“Away from brain and ambition, toward heart and soul…” Nailed it!
And then there’s this:
My dad said after his cancer diagnosis that we are all on borrowed time, and it is good to be reminded of this now and again.
My most recent reminder came at the beginning of this month, when my dear friend Ned passed away suddenly. As we gathered to mourn his loss, we were also coming to grips with the fact that it means while we’re all unsure when we’ll be picked in God’s version of the NFL draft, we’re all “on the clock.”
A lot of us thought when we were younger that we might want to stretch ourselves into other areas, master new realms. Now, I know better. I’m happy with the little nesty areas that are mine.
So true. The clock is ticking, but so’s my heart. And I just need to make sure it’s in the right place.
If you’re old enough to remember the 1990s, and if you’re even slightly into music, and you appreciate great writing, you really owe it to yourself to check out the 60 Songs That Explain the ’90s podcast.
Rob Harvilla, a senior staff writer for The Ringer, spends each episode breaking down a song from the ’90s. Actually, he spends about half of each episode on a series of digressions, often about his time growing up in northern Ohio in the 90s, before finally getting to the featured song. And the digressions are great – brilliantly written, completely engaging, and typically hilarious… and the humor is usually self-deprecating.
Writing about this podcast doesn’t do it justice… especially when it’s my writing. Just listen to the first three minutes of one of the episodes — pick any one, they’re all great — and you’ll be hooked.
Here’s the opening of the episode that covers Shania Twain’s “Man! I Feel Like A Woman!”:
The series (which is well over 100 episodes/songs now… Rob himself calls it “the world’s most inaccurately named music podcast”) covers all sorts of tunes from the ’90s – from pop to country to R&B to hip-hop to indie rock. Some songs were monster hits… some have been mostly lost to the mists of our memory. It doesn’t really matter, as they all offer Rob a chance to wax eloquently about music and life (not necessarily in that order).
(Apparently this podcast is the #1 music podcast on Spotify, so I’m probably about three years late in touting it… sorry, I was busy.)
Rob Harvilla just released a book to accompany the podcast.
This book description does the podcast justice:
Ringer music critic Rob Harvilla reimagines all the earwormy, iconic hits Gen Xers pine for with vivid historical storytelling, sharp critical analysis, rampant loopiness, and wryly personal ruminations on the most bizarre, joyous, and inescapable songs from a decade we both regret entirely and miss desperately.
A pickleball pal had free tickets, and I’d never seen KISS live, so I figured “why not?” Besides, this is billed as their final tour (although we’ve heard that from them before).
The show was at Cincinnati’s Riverfront Coliseum, a venue that’s seen better days. The same could be said for KISS. I think the last time I was in that arena, it about a decade ago, when I took my sons to see pro wrasslin’.
KISS has a lot in common with the WWE – both are heavy on showmanship. The concert featured (in no particular order): Flames. Fireworks. 40-foot inflatables of the band members. Smoke machines. Confetti cannons. Fake blood. Floating platforms. Paul Stanley gliding on a wire across the arena — Peter-Pan-like — to get to a smaller stage. Gene Simmons in a crane bucket that swung out over the crowd.
I went with my buddy Joe, and as he said after the show, it was completely over-the-top… and that’s exactly what we expected from Gene Simmons, Paul Stanley and friends (Tommy Thayer and Eric Singer served as decent subs for Ace Frehley and Peter Criss from the original lineup).
Here’s the thing though: Gene Simmons is 74. Paul Stanley is 71. They’ve been in this band for fifty years! And they’re still out there playing a two-hour set… wearing those giant super-soled boots… and getting in platforms that take them 40 feet above the stage, and, in Paul’s case, zooming through the air while hanging onto a trapeze contraption. While most folks their age are wearing sensible shoes and ordering the early-bird special at Denny’s, they’re rocking and rolling all night (but probably taking a nap every day). More power (and pyro) to ’em!
This may come as a surprise to you, Dear Reader (singular), but I’m not exactly a font of knowledge about the Middle East. In fact, my knowledge wouldn’t even fill a thimble.
This also may come as a surprise to you, Dear Reader (still singular… tell a friend about this blog), but I DO know how to read. And I’ve been trying to expand my knowledge of the Middle East conflict, and its history. (I’ve upgraded from thimble to shot glass… and now I need a shot to calm my nerves.)
I found this piece by David Klion and this one from Suzanne Schneider to be quite enlightening. Klion talks about the current Israeli-Palestinian situation and its parallels with 9/11, when America’s blind thirst for “vengeance” led to more senseless suffering.
Suzanne Schneider’s essay is extremely powerful – especially the final two paragraphs:
Nicholas Kristof’s headline from Saturday’s New York Times sums it up:
This probably won’t come as a surprise to you, Dear Reader (still singular… c’mon, just use the “share” link), but I really like music. And I keep replaying a song in my head – a track called “Background Noise” from Irish folk singer Luka Bloom that came out in 1994. Luka was writing about “The Troubles” in Ireland, but the sentiment is universal – and sadly just as applicable today:
You hear the cries of the different sides The bullet hits again Take a look in anybody’s eyes Our tears are all the same Our tears are all the same…
What the hell do I know – Crying out for love What the hell can I do – Crying out for love When every single child needs To hear the voice of love We all need a new speech – The words of love
Back in my college days, if we needed someone to get swung around like a helicopter blade during a party, Ned was there.
If we needed someone to dress up like an elf, Ned was there.
Getting handcuffed to a loft? Ned was there.
Beer bongs? Ned was there.
For all of our Spring break adventures, Ned was there.
If we needed someone to man the grill, Ned was there.
At all those parties — in the dorm rooms, in the quad, and at the bars — Ned was there.
Whenever you needed a friend, Ned was there.
After college, when some folks from our gang got married, Ned was there.
At all the memorable moments over the past 40 years , Ned was there. Always.
Then, this past Monday, out of the blue, Ned was no longer there.
Suddenly — You were gone From all the lives You left your mark upon
Ned had a stroke back in May of 2020 – it caused all sorts of health complications. But his departure still came as a shock. Now he’s in another “there” and we’re still here.
Tried to believe But you know it’s no good This is something That just can’t be understood
Every one of us has a special place in our heart for the guy who was good-natured, sweet, kind, caring, smart, attentive, funny… and always up for a good time. Ned is still there. He always will be.
Kevin Sullivan on They greed. You bleed.: “love the smash mouth football D, keep it going !” Mar 31, 10:17
Kevin Sullivan on War… why? And now what?: “I read your post Damian and I like it very much. As we move from a Saturday morning headline of…” Mar 3, 09:22
Damian on Smartphones are making us dumb.: “Thanks for (not) reading the post, Kevin. And thanks for mentioning several other formats (article, essay, poem) that can train…” Feb 23, 19:55
Kevin on Smartphones are making us dumb.: “You know I didn’t read your post because I don’t need to. The lack of reading of all generations reveals…” Feb 23, 10:32
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