Moses, Moses, where are you? We all know the song with the haunting trombone. And, many of you knew our little Moses...the blue eyes, the chubby cheeks protruding from his smile, a perfect, Slavic boy. He was here. He was right here! And then he was gone.
Earlier in the Belgrade winter afternoon, Moses was at a Machinehead loadin, chilling with Rob and the gang. During the show, he slept tucked snugly in his crib at home, high on the Izvorska hill overlooking Belgrade. Mom, Dad and other party-goers came to eat and visit, waking him up. It was about 2:00am.
|Dancing to Mano Chao :)|
Moses woke up and joined the action. He swung in his swing, dancing to Mano Chao, eating delicate, Serbian cheese pastries. Not a cloud in his sky...just love and music! He stayed up until around 3:00am and then nestled in bed with Mom and Dad.
Moses never woke up again. He silently slipped up to Heaven, not a peep was made. He simply left. The doctors could not solve the mystery. A scientist was brought in and after months of testing, it was pronounced that he had a sort of superbug--a virus mixed with a bacteria. A germ so deadly it struck quickly, like a bolt of lightening!
Richie and I flew immediately to Belgrade for the saddest, weeping-est funeral known to Mankind. There isn't much anyone can say at a time like that to make one feel better, just hug and hold on.
I circulated it to a very few close friends, one who worked for the NSA. She reported it to her Big Boss, who later asked where she got it from. I even gave it to the Navajo Indians, with their keen insight. No luck on deciphering the message. I did learn that the words in the first line, 'wet duty' mean "to assassinate." I also found it strange that the organs affected in Moses' tiny body were mentioned several times.