Anchorage Daily News

John Cipollina was a guitar player. A fine guitar player. His Gibson is in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in Cleveland.

John played with many bands but achieved fame with Quicksilver Messenger Service, one of the legendary San Francisco groups of the '60s. He died of emphysema at 45.

For the past couple weeks, I have been possessed by Quicksilver (and John). I don't know how many dozens of times I have listened to the band perform one of its signature songs "Fresh Air." I have watched old video of the band, too -- on YouTube.

Obviously, I'm suffering chronic nostalgia: Quicksilver is among the icons of my youth when my head was full of Jimi Hendrix, Cream, the Who and the electrified Bob Dylan.

But I am not here to report nostalgia.

Quicksilver produced some beautiful music -- music to be enjoyed and appreciated for its artistry. Their work has been called the perfection of the San Francisco sound.

Last Sunday I attended St. Matthews Church in Fairbanks. My head should have been full of the Prayers for the People and the Nicene Creed. It wasn't. It was full of Quicksilver's "Fresh Air."

As Scott Fisher began the sermon, I began to wonder if I could honor John Cipollina, however humbly, through the church. Perhaps an altar candle. I have purchased altar candles before.

So I sat in the pew and wrestled with myself -- "Carey, are you crazy? Buy a candle in the name of a rock star, put a notice in the church bulletin, 'Today's altar candle is given by Michael Carey in memory of John Cipollina (1943-1989).' You're gonna look like a nut.' "

Well, looking like a nut no longer bothers me. Been there, done that. Many times.

After the sermon, Rev. Fisher made several announcements and asked Rev. Belle Mickelson, from Cordova, to make a brief announcement, too.

Rev. Mickelson said she is part of a program called "Dancing with the Spirit," which brings guitars and fiddles to kids in the villages so they can learn to play music. She was preparing to drive a Suburban load of instruments to Minto the next day. She could use help.

When the chance arose, I approached Belle Mickelson and told her I wanted to give her some money. I explained who John Cipollina was and offered the money in his memory.

Rev. Mickelson seemed bushwhacked -- yes, this silver-haired stranger is handing me cash but what does Quicksilver Messenger Service have to do with kids in Minto?

Well, what better way to honor a departed guitar player than teaching kids to play the guitar?

Outside the church, Fairbanks sparkled in bright sunshine and the skies were clear for a hundred miles, spring Alaska in stunning clarity. My dad, Fabian, thought that on a day like this he could live forever. Walking to the hotel, I couldn't stop myself. I began to sing "Fresh Air," and without the help of any of those popular '60s substances, I felt high.

"Have another hit ... have another hit of sweet love every morning/Have another hit ... have another hit of fresh air."

Michael Carey is the former editorial page editor of the Anchorage Daily News. He can be reached at mcarey@adn.com.

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