Allow me to share my memories of Guy Michetti.
I wanted you to get to know him as well as I did, but I’ll provide a link to his obituary at the conclusion.
Guy and Jimi P. White were members of Jim Indell’s backup group, The Indellibles, when I most likely first encountered them. In 2007, the arts scene was extremely competitive. It would be impossible to swing a guitar and avoid running into another performer. When it was recommended that we start an acoustic blues band, I enthusiastically agreed. One of the reasons was that acoustic blues avoids comparisons to Hendrix, Clapton, and Stevie Ray Vaughn by returning to its country blues roots.
Second, it was clear that Guy was a humble, very grounded individual in addition to being a fantastic musician. On June 4, 2007, we had our debut show at ETG, where we met our drummer, Tom Fanizzi. Tom blended in as if he had always been here.
Up until 2010, we intermittently performed with Guy. We were unaware that Guy was not always available since his wife, Valerie, had begun to show early symptoms of dementia and he was caring for her. He left and came back to the group. He once requested that Joan join, and she gladly did, contributing not just her voice but also her ukulele, which after Guy’s departure became the rhythm instrument. After Guy left, Frank Mirra also moved in for a while.
Prior to our acoustic blues ensemble Guys In The Band, I didn’t know much about Guy’s musical background. He did tour, and I’ve seen a video of it online (Denny And The Dropouts). Since he never discussed the event, I don’t think it aligned with him. In addition to being very private, Guy was also incredibly kind, witty, enthusiastic about music, and talented. You could always count on him, even if he was playing backup. His brilliance was always visible. With him, every band was better.
Guy had the amazing honor of playing with our buddy Lisa Schema in his last band. She persuaded him to write some songs with her and sing harmony. They made excellent band members. It was she who discovered him following his stroke.
Guy’s disregard for his health finally caught up with him. Less than a month after his stroke, he passed away. During that time, Joan and I had the opportunity to visit him once. We spoke with him. Somehow, the lyrics of Honest I Do had become stuck in my head, so I silently recited them. I had no doubt that he would survive this, but he did not, and as a result, we are all left with a huge hole in our hearts where our love for him once existed. Love without a place to go is grief.
Family, friends, and nearly every musician who ever performed with him, including the gents from his first band, who called him Mitch, gathered for his wake. We all sung along and reminisced about Guy while our friend Gene played the Beatles song “Let It Be.” It was a charming farewell. Guy was the best of us, we decided.
The following day was his funeral. The temperature was a chilly twelve degrees. I wake up earlier than 7 a.m. at 75 for three reasons: funerals, medical appointments, and vacations. The beautiful Church of St. Rita on Bradley Avenue served as the site for this one. Together with our friend Sharon, I was given the privilege of bringing the gifts to the altar. As I walked by the coffin, I felt it and knew my friend wasn’t inside. There was no doubt that he was present. How could he not be, with all the memories and friends they held? However, I knew that box did not contain his soul. I had never experienced that before. Jim and Bob, two of our pals, read. Our friend Sal and the church keyboardist played “My Sweet Lord” during Communion.
Prayer of Saint Francis was one of the hymns sung during the service. I was drawn to one line:
Permit me, O Master, to never look for so much consolation as to console.
Guy’s stepdaughter Alexis had told a heartwarming anecdote the previous evening. The family had stopped at a McDonald’s after battling a hospital board to obtain his wife, Valerie, medical attention. Guy was nowhere to be seen by Alexis. A younger person had fallen, and Guy was holding them in his arms like the Pieta when she went outside to look for him. Above them was a man with an umbrella. Because of Guy’s acts, someone else was also able to carry out a small act of kindness. All you need to know to comprehend Guy is that. Service was his motto.
He will be missed. I will miss him, but I have the pictures and the tapes. I know from my faith that I shall see him again in some way. I think I will. Furthermore, I am positive that knowing Guy (Gaetano) Michetti and having the opportunity to perform with him was a gift from God for which I will always be thankful. And I will be inspired to reach out and help others by that thankfulness. Because imitating the traits of someone we admired is the finest way to remember them when they pass away.
Rest easy, my dear friend. I’ll see you in the future.
>> Go to Guy (Gaetano) Michetti’s complete obituary >>
Continue to hold those amazing heads high. Love your pals.
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