May the northern lights guide you to peace and a well deserved rest.

 

Been trying to write for a couple of days now.  Owed is a letter to Wayne.  Owed to myself is some writing that is “creative”.  I had been working on a piece about how listening to Bob Seger’s Night Moves now versus fifty years ago is different.  Chances are I will finish that piece and post it in the blog. 

 

In order to get those things off and out the door I decided I would wake up, do a quick and dirty breakfast, some cereal with raisins and nuts, and go for a twenty-minute walk.  Well, I got up and was midway through that breakfast when a bit of my world changed.  In my Facebook messages was a note that a good friend had died.

 

He and I hadn’t talked in years.  I still considered him a good friend while I am pretty sure he considered me the antichrist. Life gets complicated when you are trying to do the right thing.  Sometimes those complications are so large that you can never get beyond them. Such was the case in this situation.  This is not a note of explanation, justification or recrimination, it is a note of loss because someone is now gone that meant a great deal to me.

 

In the summer of 1977, I was living in West Wilson Hall on the campus of Michigan State University.  Back then you could take a full course load in the summer and I did.  However, on the weekends the bars of East Lansing called to me.  The High Wheeler, America’s Cup, and Lizard’s Underground, these were the places that beckoned to me. Problem was that when I got a bellyful of beer it was a long, long walk back to Wilson Hall.

 

One night as I trekked back to the dorm I decided I needed a rest and I stopped and slumped up against the original Sparty statue.  It was during that rest stop that I discovered the art deco carving of football and other sports carved into the bricks at the base of the statue.  As I sat there an old Chevy Nova pulled up and the driver and another occupant started haranguing me. Apparently they felt like razzing a stupid drunk, and yes that is what I was that night.

 

Thing is I recognized the driver’s voice and I called back asking if it was in fact who I thought it was.  Sure, as all get out it was.  The driver was one of my floor mates on 2 Wilson West. We were actually taking Accounting 101 together. We both started laughing and that led to him giving my poor tired drunk legs a ride back to the dorm. 

 

Oh, the things we got into that summer. He later told me that one of the things that drew him to me was the way I baited the Campus Crusaders for Christ by implying I was okay with some very deviant acts, you know a man and his consenting sheep.  The Crusaders actually chased me out of the study lounge over that comment.  Note I am not in favor of cross species mating but back then I was willing to be a provocateur. 

 

This man convinced me to go camping.  He goaded me into canoeing. He introduced me to the joys of college hockey.  Are three of these things were an integral part of my life in the 1980s and 1990s.  When I got married he was one of the groomsmen.  Together and with a small circle of friends we began to explore every river in the northern lower peninsula of Michigan.  We camped our way across the top of Lake Superior.  We almost drowned in a hot tub in Thunder Bay.  Never drink beer and hop in a hot tub when you are exhausted from a day of hiking. Together we feel in love with Pukaskwa National Park near Marathon. And there were the sunsets on Agawa Bay.

 

Things happen between people.  Some get over it.  Some don’t. In our case there was a wide gulf that we could never reach across.  Acceptance. Equanimity.  Life is what it is and nothing more. 

 

The world is a lesser place without the man I knew in the 1970s, the 1980s and the 1990s. Without my friend I wouldn’t know what qualified as icing or why there were sometimes penalty shots.  Without my friend I would have seen the late evening sunset as I gazed west over Lake Superior’s.  Without my friend who knows if I would have half the experiences I treasure today.

 

Travel well good soul, travel well.  May the northern lights guide you to a place of peace and well-deserved rest. 

 

 

 

I usually end my posts with a bit of music.  Sometimes the pieces posted are soft and elegiac. Sometimes they are just odd because what I have written requires a specific sideways musical viewpoint. I can’t take either of those directions here. At the peak of our friendship my friend was all about the joy of life and filling it with as much fun as one could have. The music he loved was in keeping with his passion for life.

He had one very special musical love, the J. Geils Band. Over several years he cajoled me, begged me, and otherwise entreated me to come to the Pine Knob Music Theatre with him to see Peter Wolf and company. In 1982, I finally gave in and he drove us down to Clarkston to see this raucous set of rock n’ rollers who were at the height of their popularity.

J. Geils did not disappoint. For about two hours we sat/stood up on the hill and sang along to every song. We, two adult assed men, danced our weird little shuffle to almost all of the songs. Okay it was more of a sway because when you have a huge beer in your hands you really can’t dance. 

There we were, just the two of us on a warm Michigan summer evening listening to loud, loud music and we had flat out fun. The surprising thing was that the two of us together with a few thousand of our friends provided crowd noise for an album, J. Geils' Showtime. There is no better time to be a music fan than when a live album is recorded at the show you attended. Here is a sample of how much fun the two of us could have when we set our minds to it. 

I need to hold on to the many, many good times. People need to remember those good days and be aware there were plenty of them.