“Don’t it always seem to go that you don’t know what you got till it’s gone.” That was Joni Mitchell’s message to the world. Seems no one learned because Counting Crows covered it over 30 years later. People listen to songs like this…but do they listen? Do they pay attention?
It’s not that I didn’t know what I had or even that I should have stayed. It’s that I didn’t realize how much you meant to me, even after three decades of absence, until you died. This loss is profound.
A song popped up on my playlist this afternoon, and it made me think of you. You were as much a fan of Neil Peart as I am, and oddly, I didn’t know that until yesterday. How could we have both loved Rush so much and not known that about each other? I guess we weren’t paying attention.
Anyway, this is for you, Mike.
I was thinking it had been, like, forever, since you last posted, but I see now it’s only been since July, which feels not that long ago when you see it on the screen, but still feels way long ago in the old brain bone. Was just going to check in and say hope you’re well. Was also hoping you hadn’t gone scorched earth again. As that is your wont.
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Hi, Walt! I’m still around. Not really motivated to write, but I peek now and then. I’ve been eyeing your post, but I’ve also been waiting for the right moment to read it. My mind has been cluttered with work stuff, stressful stuff, and I’d rather enjoy your post while in a peaceful state. You make me laugh, which would actually help a lot, but I want to laugh when I have the capacity to fully enjoy it. I purchased Finnegans Wake a couple of days ago out of curiosity. I wanted to see what the hubbub is about, knowing going in it’s nonsensical. I read a few pages. I discovered that reading something unreadable and discovering tidbits of crafty puns is enjoyable. My brain of late feels chaotic, so I get an odd sense of enjoyment out of reading chaotic gibberish and successfully not understanding it. Am I rambling? I’m rambling.
I hope you are well. I’ll come visit soon. Keep that piece up and running. I don’t want to miss it. There’s comfort knowing it’s there when I’m ready.
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Hmm, I fear that might be a tad too much pressure on me and the silly little piece that I didn’t work very hard on. I’ve found a good little bit of freedom in leaving behind the need to achieve perfection, but at the same time I’m having to let go of pride as well, unless it’s the pride of being less prideful, if that makes sense. And your rambling frees me up to ramble too, so it’s all good. The post in question is less like fine wine and more like a fountain drink where the syrup and CO2 might not be perfectly calibrated. But I’m glad to know you’re out there, dabbling in nonsense and crafty puns. I thought FW was Serious Literature, but I’ve never touched it, so I don’t know. I had to read Portrait of the Artist in school, or at least was told to, and just couldn’t get it done. I figure if I couldn’t do that much, then FW or Ulysses just aren’t for me. I’m more of a Salinger guy, especially the post-Catcher stuff, which may be like a more accessible version of Joyce in some ways, now that I think about it. Then again there might be an English professor ready to tear me a new one over that thought. I dunno.
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I had a LaserDisc of that Montreal concert as a kid. I watched it so many times, not because I was the biggest Rush fan but because access to that kind of content was so rare back then, and I was starving for it. I saw them live for the first time last Sunday, bought a same day ticket, the venue about ten mintues from my house. Holy smokes. That was one of the best shows I’ve ever seen. Geddy Lee was bopping around stage like a man half his age, and having so much fun. And Anika just killed it. I loved that the encore was the first and last songs of the first album, Finding My Way and Working Man. Thinking about going again next week, if he recovers from his bronchitis/laryngitis.
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Wow! Just last Sunday? That’s amazing! I can only imagine what fun that must have been.
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If I go back, I may snag my daughter and take her with me. She’s turned into a huge music junkie, and is even starting to appreciate dad rock now that she’s discovered it on her own.
I consider the first three albums to be “my” Rush, if you know what I mean (Rush, Fly By Night, and Caress of Steel). 2112 through Signals is the communal Rush that everyone thinks of as Rush, but I’d never heard any of those albums all the way through, just the hits (which are fantastic, btw). Since the show, I’ve been working my way through their catalogue in sequence. Finished Test for Echo today, so have three to go. This is what happens when I get obsessed with a thing.
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I’m definitely not an expert on Rush. I love their hits, though. I read the first half of Geddy Lee’s autobiography, and it was really good. Did you know his name is actually Gary? His parents were Yiddish, and his mom pronounced his name “Geddy”. It stuck. Interesting little tidbit.
The last concert I went to was Roger Waters sometime around 2014. By far the best concert I’ve ever been to. But Rush would be super cool. Their live performances are incredible.
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That’s a heartbreaking realization, that someone can be so deeply important to you, across decades of distance, and that you don’t fully know the size of that place they held until they’re gone. I’m sorry you’re carrying that kind of loss.
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Thanks, Walt. This one is pretty rough. I’ve talked to a couple of old friends from that time, and they are feeling the same. Something about that closeness from those young years, I guess. We are all devastated. But I get to see them all this weekend for the first time in a VERY long time, so that will be good.
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I’m sorry you’re all going through this, but glad you have each other to lean on. I hope seeing everyone this weekend brings you some comfort and peace. Sharing memories is part of the grieving process, and the healing too.
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I can’t wait to see them. This weekend will be a roller coaster.
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