"Hey Jude" and Me

Today, August 11, is a red-letter date in my musicianship and, indeed, in my life. On this day in 1968, the Beatles released what would soon be their most iconic hit single ever, “Hey Jude.”

I remember hearing the song on the tinny table radio my brother Keith and I kept in our bedroom. Living in Los Angeles, we were always tuned to either KHJ or KRLA so we could stay in touch with the Top 40, the soundtrack of our youth. The summer of 1968 gave us a few good songs to groove to: “Mrs. Robinson” by Simon and Garfunkel; “MacArthur Park” by Richard Harris; “Jumping Jack Flash” by the Rolling Stones; “Hello, I Love You” by the Doors. Great songs all, but these hits didn’t soothe the troubled spirit of America, which was still reeling from the assassinations of Martin Luther King, Jr., and Bobby Kennedy, the civil unrest that followed, and the tumultuous Democratic National Convention in Chicago.

I think I first heard “Hey Jude” on KHJ on The Real Don Steele Show, and the DJ introduced “the latest hit by the greatest band in the world” with his usual enthusiastic coolness. I was immediately mesmerized. A new Beatles song was always cause for celebration but this was something altogether different, coming on the heels of the band’s experimental psychedelic era. “Hey Jude” was essentially a simple ballad, stripped of the sitars, mellotrons, and Stravinski-esque orchestras of their trippy Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band.

I loved the song’s optimism and warmth that reconfirmed for us fans that the Beatles were still making the coolest music ever. It was just the song that America needed to hear in that troubled summer. But more than anything, what really caught my ear was Paul McCartney’s piano playing. The Beatles used piano on their songs before, on “Slow Down,” “Not a Second Time,” and “Good Day Sunshine.” But “Hey Jude” was their first song where the piano, not the guitar, was the featured main instrument. The song was played endlessly by AM radio, and each hearing only goaded me on to one inevitable conclusion:

I must learn how to play the piano!

My family had a nice upright piano in the living room and I dallied on it, like most kids did, by playing “Chopsticks” or “Heart and Soul.” But now I wanted to really learn how to play. So I went to a music store and found the sheet music for “Hey Jude.” I already knew how to read notes because I had been playing the flute since third grade. How hard could it be?

Plenty hard! Now I had to figure out the bass clef and fit both right-hand and left-hand parts together. I struggled mightily, and my halting rendition eventually annoyed my siblings who had to endure my playing over and over again. In frustration from my lack of progress, I slammed the piano cover shut, stormed to my room, and turned on the radio. Once again, “Hey Jude” was playing, well on its way to Number One, a position it would hold for nine weeks. So I listened again, this time with great concentration, and noticed that Paul was not playing what was arranged on the printed sheet music. He was playing simple chords that I identified as F, C, Bb . . .

Ah ha! This was one of the greatest “ah ha!” moments of my young life. I ran back to the piano and simply played the chords that Paul was playing, with the same rhythm and beat he applied. I eventually figured out a way to fit the melody with the chords in the right hand, and play a simple bass in the left hand. Who needed to read the sheet music exactly? All I needed was a knowledge of the chords, a grasp of the melody, and a sense of the beat. More than anything else, I needed to “own” the song in my heart. The ubiquitous presence of “Hey Jude” on the airwaves that late summer ensured that the song would be burned into my subconscious.

And then I did a totally reckless thing: I decided to perform “Hey Jude” at my school’s talent show that fall.

I must have been crazy. I went to Queen of Angels High School Seminary in San Fernando, California. That June, I went home for the summer not knowing how to play the piano. Now, I returned in the fall to my sophomore year, claiming to not only be a pianist but a performer of the year’s biggest song? It was suicide. If I failed, I would be ostracized by a seminary community that pulled no punches in caustic humor and sarcasm.

So I practiced. And I practiced. And I practiced. Some of my classmates who doubted my ability poked their heads into the music room and began to believe I might be able to do it.

The talent show (we called it that oh-so-seminary name, “gaudeamus”) was in October. As I recall, there were the usual duos who sang and played guitar, and maybe one or two pianists who performed some classical pieces. I was the lone sophomore on the bill and when I was introduced a cheer went up from my classmates. I took my seat at the piano, the crowd grew quiet, and I started playing “Hey Jude.”

It was a simply chorded rendition that probably came across as grade schoolish, but I moved the song forward with a good beat. No one sang the vocals; it was a pure piano realization. I really don’t remember if I was nervous. I do recall feeding off the good vibes of performing, of having the appreciation of a listening audience. And then I did something that I probably shouldn’t have done: I played the “Na-na-na-na” ending chorus for the full seven minutes that the Beatles played on the record.

Na, na, na, na-na-na-na.
Na-na-na-na.
Hey, Jude!

Some of the guys were starting to grumble but I was determined to finish the song. Finally, at the last chord, I slowed to a ritardando and stopped. The audience erupted into cheers, perhaps more from relief that the song was over than from anything else. As one last flourish, I pulled a page out of Arte Johnson’s “old man” character on the then-hot Laugh-In TV show and fell off the bench in a dead feint. Now the audience was on its feet.

Not only had I learned to play the piano in a couple of months, not only had I performed a popular hit Beatle song before a discriminating audience, but I also flashed a hint of the showmanship that would serve me well in my later years. It was the greatest feeling in the world!

To this day I still get teased about my piano debut by some of my high school classmates. But my friends know that I went on from that landmark moment to build a career for myself as a musician and composer. And it all began with “Hey Jude.”

Tops

Eulogy for Terence Patrick “Tops” Canedo
Given by his brother Orlando
Church of the Visitation, Los Angeles
August 4, 2010

Tops was born on a Tuesday, September 20, 1960. He was the sixth of the nine children of Betty and Del Canedo. 5 boys and 4 girls: Kenny, Keith, Desi, Delfin, Teresa, Tops, Celeste, Orlando and Vicky.
Being the only left-handed boy, he was already something special to our mom, not that she didn’t love us all equally. (wink)

Tops was an incredible musician, he could play any instrument he picked up. I’m not talking plucking out “Mary Had a Little Lamb,” but really play the instrument like he’d been playing it for years. I’d been taking drum lessons and I was getting pretty good. I could keep a pretty steady beat. One day I heard someone playing my drum set in my room and I was thinking, “Geez, whoever’s playing my drums is really good.” I opened the door and there was Tops playing like a pro. I had never heard him play my drums before and that was the first time I realized my brother was a musical genius. The same thing happened a few years ago on Thanksgiving. We were celebrating at my sister Celeste’s house and I heard someone playing the piano, incredibly, in the other room. I looked in and there was Tops playing effortlessly, as if he were Elton John himself.

Tops was also a very skilled visual artist. He would always amaze us with his pencil sketches, capturing perfectly the likeness of his many subjects. In high school, he received high praise for a comic strip he created: “Bennie, the Filipino Houseboy Who Didn’t Know He Was a Monkey.”

Tops had a wicked sense of humor. Everything and everybody was fair game. You didn’t want to be the butt of his jokes because his attacks could be relentless. But this is where his songwriting talents began. He started making up hilarious ditties about our neighborhood or something he saw that made him laugh that day. These songs are witty, priceless time capsules of our childhood. Growing up, me and Tops shared a room for many years and we’d stay up late making each other laugh till we fell asleep.

As he grew older Tops refined his artistic skills, adding web design and other computer graphics to his already vast repertoire of skills and talents. He continued to write marvelous songs and record them in his home studio.

His home was the garage at mom’s house that he converted into a nice apartment. Yes, the man had even more talents. He was a great carpenter and handyman, as well. He did all of the upkeep on the house for mom after dad passed away, including taking care of the lawn and garden. He’d do anything for mom. Actually, he’d do anything for anyone in the family. Behind that sharp sense of humor was a very caring and giving person. If one of us needed help, he would be happy to do anything he could.

But the biggest joy in his life is Katya, his daughter who is now 16 years old. Tops has done an incredible job as a parent. There is a lot of Tops in Katya. She has grown to be a strong, caring and giving person just like her dad. And also, just like her dad, Katya has taken to the guitar like she’s been playing for years -- and she has the voice of an angel. I know her dad was very proud of her and she will continue to be a source of pride for her family because of the values and talents that Tops has instilled in her.

When Tops was in the hospital, Katya would visit him every day after school. When he changed hospitals, Katya would take the bus clear across town to visit him after school. I could see the joy in his eyes when Katya entered the room. And although her father was very sick, Katya would sit by his side for hours if she could because she knew it made him happy.

Happiness is something that Tops could give his family, even in his last weeks. Every day I went to see him in the hospital he would find some way to make me laugh, even if he was in extreme pain. Also, during this time, Tops was writing notes to mom in a journal, about his day and how he was feeling. Even when he was in constant pain, he was thinking about the happiness of others. He was thinking about mom and the comfort that these notes would give her. These notes would be his final communication with mom and his last cherished gift to her.

And now, here are some memories of Tops by some of his siblings:

KENNY
When Tops was in 6th grade he became an altar boy at St. Gerard Parish. We used to have Sunday afternoon rosary and benediction and five altar boys were required, but only Tops and I showed up. So I gave Tops a crash course on how to be thurifer, or the server in charge of incense.

So there’s Father Doherty on the altar with the Eucharist. I’m ringing the bell, and poor Tops is behind me, struggling with the chain-link incense burner.

Later, in the sacristy, Tops said, “That holy smoke was going up my nose!” Even Father Doherty laughed.


KEITH (KC)
I bought Tops his first electric guitar when he was 14. It was right-handed and a dark hunter green. Tops took that guitar apart, hand-sanded off the green to its natural wood, stained and varnished it, switched over the pick guard, and re-strung it to “left-handed.” The next time I saw it, I couldn’t believe how beautiful it was.

Tops touched our lives in the same way. He improved all of us. He could alays be counted on to “take a sad song and make it better.”


CELESTE
Jessica and I were driving home last Sunday night from mom’s house. Keith followed in his car because he was staying with us. On the I-405, a van swerved into our lane, hitting us on the passenger side by Jessica. All three cars pulled over to the shoulder.

Keith checked to make sure we were okay, then approached the driver of the van and said, “What the hell are you doing?” He was protecting Jessica and me.

It reminded me of the time my car was hit in front of mom’s house. The two young men immediately started blaming me for hitting their truck and were very angry. Tops ran out of mom’s house yelling, “What the hell are you doing?” The two guys quickly backed down and admitted they were at fault.

That horrible Sunday when Tops passed away, and with help from Keith, I felt Tops was still protecting me.

===

Katya thought that it would be nice to read some of her father’s lyrics today. She found a wonderful song, the very last entry in his song notebook:

We draw the lines through space and time
Ultimately in our minds they can disappear
There is a richness in diversity
No prejudice
Showing the world
Creating with each other
A sister or a brother
We become strong in ourselves
What to do with the freedom
Embrace the higher good feeling
Envision thought more
Take action less
You were always valued
Always known
Nothing to fix
Well being is abundant
Don’t follow the old ways if they don’t serve you
Find new ways to live
Find new ways to survive
When the old ways don’t apply

©2010 Terence P. Canedo

===

At the Door
A poem by Delfin M. Canedo

===

A Mother’s Love
A reflection from Terence’s mother Betty
Read by his brother Keith

===

(Closing remarks by Ken)

Thank you, dear brothers. Thank you, Monsignor Gonzales. It is so awesome to have an old family friend celebrate this Memorial Mass. Thank you also to Visitation Choir. My sister Desi sings with them on Sundays and I am so thrilled she is part of the music ministry here. Thank you to Vallimar and Frank Jansen for sharing their talents and representing my OCP family. Lastly, my family thanks all of you for sharing this liturgy of remembrance with us. As I look out on across this church I see many friends of Tops from his workplace and other connection, plus friends of my siblings. I invite you all to the parish center after Mass so we can get to know each other better and continue to share the love we have for Tops.

I wrote a tribute to my brother on the day that he died. It’s rather lengthy and I invite you to read the whole thing on my website. But I would like to close with the final paragraph:

My brother died today, and I will miss him forever. I can never begin to understand why something as terrible as cancer had to take Tops away from us so soon. I can only cling to my faith in God, and to the hope that we will all be reunited with our brother in the life to come. In my spiritual imagination, our brother was warmly greeted at the gates of heaven by our dad. I also like think that God let Tops go straight to work, adding some rock pizzaz to the angelic choirs, tending the divine gardens, and fixing the leaky roof over the Father’s house that has many dwelling-places (John 14:1-6).

My brother died today, but he will live forever in our hearts.

===

Amazing Grace sung by ValLimar Jansen, accompanied on the piano by her husband Frank.





Obituary in the Los Angeles Times.

A Mother's Love

Reflection on Terence Canedo by his mother Betty
Read at the Memorial Mass by his brother Keith
August 4, 2010

My son, Terence Patrick “Tops,” was not just a son to me. He was also my right-hand man and my caretaker. He was a jack-of-all-trades. He did all the repairs around the house and even put up a new roof. He took care of all the chores and tended the yard and planted beautiful flowers for me – sweet-smelling roses and gardenias, the two flowers that he loved, and several other lovely plants.

Terence was a loving, thoughtful and generous son. He took me to several entertainment places such as Disneyland, the zoo and the Pomona County Fair, pushing me in my wheel chair. He treated me to Medieval Times on many occasions. We celebrated Mother’s Day there last May and arranged for their special package that allowed us to sit two rows from the arena where we could almost touch the knights. He took me to see Cirque du Soleil, to Santa Monica Pier, and even to several movies, knowing that I would not even hear what the actors were saying on the screen.

Terence never forgot to bring me long-stemmed roses for Valentine’s Day, Mother’s Day and my birthday. He even brought me roses when all my teeth had to come out, just to cheer me up from my pain. Out of the blue, he would often come home with a bunch of flowers for no special reason but to cheer me up.

My son and I had a very special bond and he could often read what was on my mind. This was proven several times, and here are two examples. Sometimes I crave certain foods and wish that Terence would get me some on his way home from work. Sure enough, he would come home with just the food I was thinking of. One day, I ran out of lemons, but it was late in the evening so I wished that Terence would pick me some lemons from our tree before he went to work. When I woke up in the morning to fix breakfast there in the sink were the fresh-picked lemons. I was amazed. When he would do these things I would thank him and tell him he read my mind again. And Terence would just give me a big smile.

While sitting at his bedside at his hospice room on that final night together, it occurred to me that this would be my last opportunity to thank my son for everything he did for me. Running my hands gently over his arm, I said softly, “Terence, I want to thank you for being my son. Thank you for taking care of me. Thank you for taking me to Disneyland, the zoo, and the fair while pushing me all the way on my wheelchair. Thank you for taking me to Medieval Times and to Cirque du Soleil. Thank you for the beautiful garden and the new roof. Thank you for taking me to the movies. Thank you for all that and so much more!

“But there is one other blessing for which I am grateful. Thank you for a lovely and loving granddaughter. Katya is my lasting connection with you now. You will always live in my heart through her. I pray that Katya will continue to grow in the love and wisdom that you imparted to her.”

As I sat there beside Terence on that final night, it pained me to watch his agony as he gasped for every breath. I gave up my selfish desire to want him to live. So around 10:00 that night I softly spoke to him. “Terence, I release you, my son. We all release you. Do not fight it anymore. Let it go, my son. Go with God. Jesus is waiting for you. Let it go.”

Still, he clung to life with every labored breath. As I watched him I kept telling him in my mind to let go and finally, around 7:10 on Sunday morning, he stopped breathing. I was filled with two emotions: joy for his being finally released from his pain; and sorrow for losing my beloved son. But the joy exceeded my sorrow. I went to him and kissed his forehead and cheek as I stroked his forehead and said, “You are free, my son. You are finally free! Go with God! Jesus is waiting for you.” My tears rolled freely to his pillow.

So from now on, whenever I smell roses or gardenias around the house, I will think of you and ask, “Is that you, Terence, my son?”

Rest in peace, my son, my dearest son. I love you.

===

My mother is very hearing-impaired and has lived with the challenging effects of Diabetes Type 2 for many years. Please pray for her. Thank you.
-Ken

My Brother

My brother died today, after a valiant two-month battle with cancer. Always in good health, Tops’ sudden illness blindsided us, his family. We tried to be brave for him and for each other and found in his uncomplaining spirit a strength that inspired us and gave us hope.

My brother died today and I found out in an airplane, that loneliest of venues if one is traveling alone. I was heading home to Portland after a fulfilling week of serving on the leadership team for the We Remember, We Believe youth liturgy conference in Sacramento. The plane was picking up speed and ready to take off when, suddenly, the pilot stepped on the brakes and aborted the flight because of mechanical failure. It was terrifying. As we sat idly on the runway, a text message came in on my cell phone from my youngest brother Orlando.

My loving family. Tops left us at 7:10 this morning. He is no longer suffering. He is free of pain and on his next adventure. Love to you all. –Orlando

I looked at my watch. The pilot hit the brakes at 7:10. Because cell phones are turned off in-flight, I would not have received news of my brother’s death for another hour and a half if we had taken off as planned. The realization of that coincidence (grace?) had me shaking like a leaf. And then, it hit me. Tops was gone.

I cried. Alone. On a plane. I wanted so desperately for someone, anyone to hug me. The only thing I could turn to was prayer. I prayed three Hail Marys for the repose of my brother’s soul.

Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death. . .

My brother died today. We buried our father in 1986 after a long struggle of convalescence from a massive heart attack. We held out hope back then for dad’s recovery, but he was in his 80s and his tired body could take no more. An adult child expects to someday bury a parent. To bury a sibling, a brother with whom one has played with, fought with, cried with, and had adventures with -- it just seems so wrong.

My brother died today. Little things cause me to tear up without warning. I see a little kid on a bicycle on the street and that reminds me of the way Tops used to tag along with me on our many bicycle romps to the beach during those carefree summer days of long ago. The tears come. I turn on the radio while driving and hear the Beatles on the oldies station. Then I remember that I treated Tops to his very first rock concert when he was 15. We saw Paul McCartney & Wings during their 1976 tour. I remember looking back at my little brother as we sat together in the sports arena, his face beaming with joy as we heard our favorite Wings and Beatles songs performed live. I have to pull over and stop the car because I am sobbing uncontrollably.

My brother died today. His Christian name was Terence but we called him Tops, a quirky, unique and oh-so-wonderful nickname. In childhood, we called him Topsy, and I like to think it was because he was the “Top C,” meaning the Top Canedo. He shortened it to the cooler “Tops” when he became a teenager. But mom has another explanation: We called our brother Tops because he excelled in everything.

Tops was a cartoonist, an artist, a gifted musician, a recording engineer, a website designer, a creative gardener, and general fix-it man. His portfolio of hand-drawn and graphic art is beautiful to peruse. If I ever needed a lead guitarist for one of my many pick-up bands, Tops was there, wailing away on riffs that would make Carlos Santana sit up and take notice. If I needed to make a demo recording, Tops was there for me in his garage studio that was set up like a mad scientist’s lab, with makeshift recording equipment that proved just as effective as the professional stuff. Was the roof leaking from the rain? No problem! Tops was up there on the roof, fixing it himself.

But of all his skills and talents, Tops’ greatest gift was to be a caring son, a supportive brother, and a loving parent. His daughter Katya is a sweet high school girl who has inherited her father’s good looks and musical talent. When I was in Los Angeles in June to visit Tops in the hospital, Katya played her guitar for me and sang her favorite pop song. I was overcome by the realization that my little niece had blossomed into a beautiful, talented young woman who is as loving and gifted as her father.

My brother died today, and I will miss him forever. I can never begin to understand why something as terrible as cancer had to take Tops away from us so soon. I can only cling to my faith in God, and to the hope that we will all be reunited with our brother in the life to come. In my spiritual imagination, our brother was warmly greeted at the gates of heaven by our dad. I also like think that God let Tops go straight to work, adding some rock pizzaz to the angelic choirs, tending the divine gardens, and fixing the leaky roof over the Father’s house that has many dwelling-places (John 14:1-6).

My brother died today, but he will live forever in our hearts.



Tops as a young father, holding his new-born baby Katya.

"Fly Like a Bird" Videos

It's been a while since I have blogged. I had a chance to visit my brother Tops in a Los Angeles hospital at the end of June as he awaits treatment for his lung cancer. It was a good visit, and very emotional for me. I will write more about that in a future blog.

What I want to share today are some videos that friends have brought to my attention. Each video is a performance of my song, "Fly Like a Bird." I have come to realize that this is probably my most popular song, but I had no idea how much it has taken flight, so to speak, around the world. God is good!

Each video has a different backstory. Some are by young people who are discovering and developing their musical talent. Others are by choirs who want to share their gifts. One notable video was filmed at a funeral. There is even a performance by a 3 year old boy! As you view each video, be sure to read the comments and background for a deeper understanding of where these artists are coming from.

Watching each video for the first time, I was humbled and amazed that a song I composed could touch so many people. I'm still not quite sure how this song fell into my lap except by the grace of God. I am grateful to all these talented musicians for their heartfelt interpretations. (Note: Some computers might need a minute for the YouTube windows to build.)

Many blessings!
Ken

===

Lutheran Church of the Good Shepherd (somewhere in California)
Funeral Mass of Oscar Torres



Solo interpretation: Robi



Lines and Spaces Music Ministry
Prince of Peace Catholic Church (Hawaii?)



Solo interpretation: Jonathan McNelis



Ukelele! Notre Dame High School, Guam



Queen of Angels Parish Choir



Gandusan (Philippines): home organ



Korean Choir
(Click "Play" on the video player when you go to this page.)


Nolan Siguenza: 3 years old
(You have to be on Facebook to see this video)

One-Word Wednesday

This blog is specifically for my Twitter followers to explain a trending topic I created called #1wordwednesday. The concept is simple: On Wednesday, just use ONE WORD to express yourself.

Why clutter up the Twitterverse with so much white noise? Why say it in 140 characters when you can just as easily express yourself with one word?

FREQUENTLY ASKED QUESTIONS about #1wordwednesday

Do the single words mean anything when they are strung together?
Maybe. Usually not. It’s random, dude.

So you’re saying #1wordwednesday doesn’t make any sense?
Duh. What rule says everything has to make sense?

Then why do this? I don’t get it!
Hey, what generation are you? Did your father serve in the Civil War?

Will one person’s word trigger off a round of “word association?”
Sometimes that happens. If it happens, it happens.

But I love talking! I can’t just express myself in one single word!
Discipline, grasshopper! #1wordwednesday is the ultimate stripped-down haiku. Think of it as poetry and you will fly.

Do I have to do #1wordwednesday ALL DAY? (gasp, pant)
Of course not. Feel free to tweet one word all day, just a few times, only once, or not at all. Your choice.

Will #1wordwednesday ever become a Top Ten Trending Topic?
Probably not, unless Justin Bieber @justinbieber or Ashton Kutcher @aplusk join us.

Are there any prizes for best single word?
Why not? All prize donations graciously accepted.

#1wordwednesday sounds silly and stupid.
Thank you very much.

So come along and join a new emerging trend!

The.

Power.

Of.

One.

Word!

#1wordwednesday


To keep track of this trend, be sure to use the hashtag #1wordwednesday when you post your one-word tweet.

New to Twitter? click here to see my profile page.

Already on Twitter? Follow me @kencanedo

#1wordwednesday

My Brother Tops

Those who follow me on Facebook or Twitter know of my request for prayers for my brother Terence, whom my family has called “Tops” since childhood. A few weeks ago, Tops was rushed to ER for difficulty in breathing. He had a collapsed lung, and blood clots were found near his heart and in his leg. Immediate surgery followed, to drain the excess fluid. It was determined that the cause is cancer, and now Tops must heal from his surgery before he can begin chemo and radiation therapy.

Tops and most of my family, including my mother, live in Los Angeles. I live in Portland, Oregon, and the distance from my family during this time has been difficult for me. Hearing-impairment prevents most of us from using the phone, but we have stayed in touch via text messages and emails.

Without anyone near me whom I can really talk to about this, I turn to writing, the solace and comfort of the solitary writer. Tops is in his late 40s and I’m in my 50s, but in my heart’s memory I always think of the days of our youth. I did not learn to drive until after I was 21, so I got around West Los Angeles on my Schwinn bicycle, and Tops was never far behind, tagging along on his Sting-Ray. And we biked everywhere: to the mall, to the beach and, our favorite spot, the just-developed Marina del Rey.

At the Marina we discovered the Undersea Gardens at Fisherman’s Village and, with our younger siblings Celeste, Orlando and Vicky, explored the wonder of marine life in that mini-Sea World attraction, marveling at the different colorful species of saltwater fish that the aquarium kept on display. Afterward, we always went to Orange Julius to enjoy their delightful frosty treat.

I taught Tops how to be an altar boy, and I still laugh about the first time we served Benediction of the Blessed Sacrament together. The other altar boys didn’t show up, so it was just me as Master of Ceremonies and Tops as thurifer, serving in that role for the very first time. Talk about learning by doing! As the congregation sang “O Salutaris” and “Tantum Ergo,” poor Tops was kneeling behind the priest and me, struggling with the chained incense burner. “That holy smoke just kept coming up my nose,” he told me later.

My brother is one of the most creative persons I know. He is a gifted artist whose penciled drawings always amazed me. He even created his own comic strip about “The Filipino Monkey Who Thought He Was a Boy,” a kind of Curious George set in the Philippines. But it was in music where Tops truly shined. I remember us sitting across from each other with our guitars as I taught him the Beatles’ “Here Comes the Sun.” At the time, Tops was just a beginner. Two weeks later he showed me how he figured out “Mother Nature’s Son” all by himself, just by listening to the White Album. I was stunned.


The Canedo family in 1973. Tops is in front of the lamp and behind our mom.

Tops is a loving father to his teenage daughter, Katya, and has been a caretaker for our mother and her house. If mom ever needs a repair done, she just asks Tops, who also has skills in plumbing, gardening, and roofing. He was doing the Home Improvement thing long before and after that television show was popular. All these wonderful memories fill my mind now as I reflect on Tops’ current medical challenges. I need to get down to L.A. soon, and I will find a way. But at this time, perhaps the best and only thing I can do is pray, and be with Tops in spirit.

I am blessed to have a large group of friends on Facebook and Twitter, and from the various parishes and communities where I have served over the years. When friends ask for prayers for their loved ones or their special intentions, I try to pray for them immediately. Now I am the one asking for prayers and the response has been overwhelming from around the world.

Sometimes people ask, “What good does prayer do? Isn’t it just wishful thinking?” Prayer is a difficult concept to explain to those who do not pray. Soren Kierkegaard, the theologian-philosopher, once said, “Prayer does not change God, but changes us who pray.” In prayer we are not trying to influence God. Rather, we become one with God and one with each other, and in this oneness we find the peace and the strength to move forward and accept God’s will.

For me, prayer is like a safety net that lifts me up at those times when I need it most. Through these prayers, I know I am not alone. I pray for my brother Tops, for healing and for inner peace, that God’s will be done. My family and I are most appreciative of your prayers and the prayers of all our friends far and near. Please be assured of our prayers for you.


Tops drew this picture of the Beatles for me when he was in high school.
What a talent!