There is no one specific moment in time when I recall having first heard of or met Bucky Pizzarelli – it’s as if I’ve always known him. Growing up in Paterson, NJ, my grandparents, Gus and Jenny Triggiani, owned an Italian deli on the corner of Union and Preakness Avenues. Our family deli was several blocks away from Bucky’s parent’s Italian grocery store, also on Union Avenue.
When I was young girl, my father, Art, who played tenor sax, would occasionally take me to hear Bucky perform, after which they would always greet each other with a smile and share some laughs. Both families, Pizzarelli and Triggiani were Italian immigrants who settled in Paterson, making their livelihood from food and music!
Following family tradition, I, too became a professional musician and married classical guitarist, Vinnie Musco. Together we established a music school, Westwood Music Studios. Vinnie and I often went to hear Bucky perform throughout New Jersey and New York and would always spend time with Bucky chatting about Paterson, music, and especially guitars. Bucky was the “rock star” everybody wanted to meet, and I carefully observed how he would always warmly greet his admirers with a big smile. Bucky was so happy to share music or even just talk about it with everyone from a young beginning student, to adults who played an instrument as a hobby, and other professionals.
On stage, his smile radiated his joy and passion for music along with the notes resonating from his guitar – they were one. A clear memory I have of Bucky that stands out is the day he came to visit our music school, a quick 3-mile drive from his house. I waited outside, spotting him instantly when I saw a black Mercedes coming down the street, piloted by a man wearing the biggest smile you ever saw. He had a fun time playing the guitar with my husband and enjoying our second-floor view overlooking Westwood, NJ. An eighteen-wheel truck rumbled by and Bucky laughed, “Wow! Look at the size of that truck! They must be bringing in the baritone sax!” It was a great day filled with smiles and music.
In more recent years, we would visit Bucky at his house, sometimes playing music, sometimes not, but always smiling and laughing. As I reflected upon his passing, I realized that all those years Bucky had been teaching me important life lessons: to happily pursue your passions, find joy in all aspects of music, and to recognize the beauty in the music in everyone, whether a young student or a seasoned professional. Most importantly, he taught me to live life with a smile.
I know you’re smiling down on us, Bucky, and I’m smiling right back up at you. Thank you for everything and please say hi to my Dad for me.
