I rarely write about the process of my columns — what happens as I prepare them. But this time I note a mildly startling coincidence: After reviewing the life and death of Ian Hesford, and before sitting down to write about his passing at age 52, I heard an actor portraying a woman with terminal cancer say, “Any advice? I’ve never died before.”
Of course, Ian Hesford did.
He pretty much died in 2012, though that is not the only notable thing about his life. He was, until his second death two months ago, a force of nature, an adventurous musician and spiritual explorer.
But, as I said, before I wrote a single word about Ian Hesford, I heard a woman say, “I’ve never died before.”
That’s from an episode of The Pitt on HBO Max. A doctor, Cassie McKay (played by Fiona Dourif) sits at the bedside of Roxie Hamler (played by Brittany Allen), a woman nearing death from lung cancer. Roxie expresses some bitterness about God — how she had been blessed with a loving husband and wonderful sons, then denied the chance to live a longer life and see her boys to manhood.
The gut punch came when she asked Dr. McKay: “I guess you’ve seen a lot of death…. Any advice? I’ve never died before.”
Ian Hesford was not blessed with time to ask such a question.
The first time, in April 2012, he was on stage at Rams Head Live in Baltimore, performing with Telesma, the “electro-acoustic psychedelic world dance music” band he had co-founded eight years earlier. Hesford, his upper body and face painted in bright swirls of color, played the drums and didgeridoo. About three or four minutes into the show’s first song, his heart stopped beating. Hesford collapsed on stage.
“Two fans who knew CPR rushed forward,” reported Julie Scharper in a 2012 story about Hesford for The Baltimore Sun. “Tom Swiss, a shiatsu therapist in a purple top hat, took charge of pushing on Hesford’s chest. … Sarah Saccoccio, a Maryland Shock Trauma Center nurse, had arrived at the concert with her face painted like a skull from a Mexican Day of the Dead celebration. Her skin was smeared with white, dark circles rimmed her eyes, and her lips were marked with slashes of black paint. She pressed her mouth to Hesford’s, blowing air into his lungs.”
After Hesford arrived at Mercy Hospital, the staff worked on him for 45 minutes, shocking his heart with a defibrillator 18 times. “We thought he was a goner,” Dr. Joseph Costa told Scharper. “But there was one resident who said, ‘Let’s keep going. If it were me, I would not want you to stop.’”
One more shock and Hesford’s heart began to beat again — after 93 minutes.
“It’s been a blessing,” Hesford later told Scharper. “I’m the guy that got a second life.”
Born in December 1973 on a hippie commune in Tennessee, Ian Hesford lived with his mother, Jackie, in Maryland in his early years. After graduating from Arundel High School, he worked in construction. Sometime in his early 20s, took up the didgeridoo, the traditional wind instrument of Australian aborigines, and developed what a friend called “an intense interest in unusual musical instruments and vocal styles.”
He formed Telesma with his friend, Jason Sage, in 2004. He brought robust spirituality and energy to the band’s performances in clubs and at music festivals.
After his cardiac arrest, Hesford continued to live in Baltimore and perform with Telesma. His first concert back was what the band called their “Resurrection Show” in July 2012 on the same Rams Head Live stage where Hesford had collapsed.
According to Joanne Juskus Bond, the band’s lead singer, Telesma performed its final show in December 2017 at The 8×10. Hesford and some Telesma bandmates later performed with two other groups, Naked Jungle and Bent Feather.
Hesford worked for Kuranda, maker of special dog beds, in Ferndale.
“I spoke to his bosses, a husband and wife team, and they both told me how much he was loved there,” said Jackie Hesford, who lives in Arizona. “He did everything, worked in the office, handled orders, was involved in the making of the beds. He also encouraged the staff to start caring for their health, with cold plunging, diet, exercise. The owners said they’re really going to miss him because he kept everyone going. It’s all so very sad.”
Ian died suddenly on Feb. 13 while riding his bicycle to catch the Light Rail for work, according to his mother. Joanne Bond says a celebration of life will be held sometime this spring, and several recordings of Telesma and Bent Feather are being readied for release. “So,” she says, “there will be plenty more opportunities for Ian’s many friends and fans to be able to hear his uniquely adventurous musical performances and infectious energy.”
In an elegiac blog post, “Miracles Are Only Temporary,” Tom Swiss called Hesford a “spiritual explorer,” and he reflected on his role in Ian’s resurrection in 2012.
“For almost 14 years, I got to joke, ‘Yes, Ian died on stage, but he got better.’ I’ve written before about the moment and the train of synchronicities that led me to be there, to be part of a medical miracle; his survival after over an hour and a half without a pulse; and his return to a vigorous and healthy life. On bad sleepless nights, when I lay awake at 5 a.m. wondering if my life had significance, I could think of my role in his resurrection, and all the lives he touched through music, and reassure myself that it all ‘meant’ something.”
I heard an echo of the bedside dialogue from The Pitt in what Swiss added: “It’s tempting to get angry, to shake a fist at the sky and demand an answer from the universe about how it can give us something wonderful and then take it away. My friends, don’t let that temptation lead you into forgetting that you had something wonderful.”
Dan Rodricks’ column appears weekly in Baltimore Fishbowl. He can be reached via danrodricks.com
