THE CAR PULLS OUT of the driveway and, with arms waving good byes, Sean and Mitra leave us and vanish around the corner.
Suddenly, there is a quietness that grabs my heart and leaves me feeling very lonely. Over the weekend, Liz and I enjoyed having both boys back for Mother's Day, Mitra's birthday, Matt's birthday and just because we had a big cake to eat, Liz's birthday, even though it wouldn't arrive for another month. The boys brought their girlfriends along and it made for a full and busy house; the sounds of laughter, the clinking of glasses and silverware in the dining room and conversations ranging from politics to movies echoes in my mind, bringing back memories of when the boys were young and being raised at home.
And just like that, it is all gone. Like the emptiness of someone who has passed away, the silence reminds me of how much fun it was, and makes me wish we could do it all over again. My loss -- and a consequence of raising our boys to be independent and self reliant. Despite the silence that comes with their absence, I look forward to our next meeting and the return of a noisy kitchen and disagreements over Jordan Peterson and his "Twelve Rules For Life."
But the loss is real, and it makes me appreciate the time I have left on this earth with family and friends. Over the years, I have experienced a feeling of loss that comes from losing parents, friends moving to a new city, lots of disappointing Packer games, and the passing of famous people who have been instrumental in shaping my life. Lately, cancer is threatened the life of one of our best friends who has shown more fight than anyone I know. She is an inspiration to me for how she has handled herself and the love she shows for everyday she remains on this earth.
Dealing with loss comes in many ways. It is sobering to think we aren't as invincible as you think, and it's a reminder to appreciate the people still in your life and live for the moment.
No loss is the same as another.
"Some lives can be summed up in a sentence or two. Other lives are epics." from the book Clockwork Angels.
I recently finished reading the first of three steampunk novels from Kevin Anderson and Neil Peart, called Clockwork Angels. If those names are unfamiliar to you, it's because you aren't a fan of science fiction or you don't listen to progressive rock. The book is a collaboration between an acclaimed novelist who has written prequels to Dune and Star Wars, and a drummer for the legendary rock band RUSH. It is a tale of a young man living in a authoritarian world ruled by a rigid dictator (the Watchmaker) who imposes precision on every aspect of daily life -- from knowing exactly when it's going to rain, to growing a certain number of crops needed to feed the realm, to being assigned a wife or husband at the time of your birth. It's a book based on Rush's album "Clockwork Angels" which turned out to be the bands nineteenth and final album when Neil Peart passed away a few years later from brain cancer.
I mention it because I am such a fan of Rush and Neil Peart, who certainly lived up to the quote above from Clockwork Lives, a sequel to the original book. One can only imagine the life of a rock star who travelled around the world, entertaining millions of people every year and selling 25 million records. And became a popular author later in life by putting lyrics into prose found in more than 10 books.
The loss of Peart is a tough one to overcome because for much of my life the band's music has always been there. One of my first albums was Rush's 2112, purchased at Metamorphosis Records, one of the few buildings on lower Pearl Street in the 70's that wasn't a bar. It was an interesting place to spend time as a teenager. In addition to music, you could find glass, water pipes, bubblers, papers, scales and other pot paraphernalia. If you weren't high when you walked into the store, you were by the time you left.
A lot of Friday nights were spent by my friends and I listening to RUSH while playing euchre and drinking beer. Either in a friend's basement, at his dad's cabin or on his houseboat, it was a rite of passage for us, providing the catalyst that propelled us into manhood. The power of Neil's drumming had us putting down our cards and air drumming to one of his distinctive drum solos, fills, breaks or intros. While some kids were worried about dating the third chair trumpet player, we were rocking to one of rock and roll's all time greats.
Their music was not for everyone, but somehow it evolved and became appreciated for not only notes on a bass, guitar or drums, but for effort, practice and study. After more than 40 years of continuous musical evolution and change, and despite being dismissed my many arbiters of musical taste, they finally made it to the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame in 2013.
I had the good fortune to see RUSH in concert four or five times, and they never disappointed, even as I got older and my musical tastes shifted from hard rock to something closer to California rock.
It's strange how the loss of someone I never met can leave a hole in your life, like the death of a family member or friend. For me, it's knowing that there will never be another album of new music. It's the end to the life-long bond I had with three nerdy musicians from Canada that energized my humdrum life with lyrics that had me dreaming of Xanadu, La Strangiato, Tom Sawyer and the Working Man.
A companion unobtrusive
Plays that song that's so elusive
And the magic music makes your morning mood."
-- Lyrics from the Spirit of Radio
FOR SOMEONE LIKE ME, this is a new experience.
And "for someone like me" I mean, someone who's been able to eat pretty much anything and still maintain a resemblance of someone in good shape/health. It seems like every decade there's another ten pounds that finds itself attached to my frame. And then with the Wuflu, the government shut down the world and I could not play basketball for over two years. Making it worse, I found myself sitting around more, and eating more, and doing less...
The concept of losing weight, while not on the same level of someone dying, is nonetheless an exercise in getting by without something. In my case, I'm struggling with breakfast. For the past week I have been trying to support Liz and her new diet (which is pretty severe if you ask me) which will last 6 weeks, with the goal of losing 20 pounds.
As I said, I have been struggling with breakfast. I love a good bowl of Wheaties to get me going, with maybe a couple pieces of raisin toast on the side. With this new diet, I have been restricted to some kind of fruit and two eggs. In an effort to get us excited, they say you can have them scrambled, sunny side up or over-easy. I'm not getting fooled -- they're still eggs and I have never been a big fan of eggs, which is why I love French toast and pancakes. With syrup. And butter. And a bowl of cereal. With milk. And a sprinkling of sugar.
Doesn't someone know that breakfast is one of the most important meals of the day?
I'm missing my milk and orange juice too. Alright, I break down and pour myself half a cup of milk. So bite me and send me to a penalty box.
Thank goodness I can have a handful of nuts and some more fruit for lunch. That should get me through an hour of full court basketball. Lucky for me, I am just a block away from Mayo Health System.
I am encouraged throughout the day by the prospect of eating a BIG dinner -- chicken thighs and broccoli. All the broccoli I can eat. Yum! At least it's not kale, one of the worst ideas for food I have ever tasted. WHAT WERE THEY THINKING? Are you sure it's not a weed? I can barely contain myself, because Liz just mentioned we are having spaghetti squash (they make spaghetti out of squash?) for dinner on Thursday and more salad.
I'm having dreams about all you can eat buffets. Or are they nightmares? I don't know which.
It has been even harder to overcome the loss of another icon, named Rush. Specifically Rush Hudson Limbaugh III who passed away last year from lung cancer, after more than 30 years of excellence as the voice behind the most listened-to radio show in the United States.
Rush became such a fixture in my life that I would listen to him in the office, at home and over many miles while listening to him in the car. Weekends were his only escape -- and like my basketball addiction at Viterbo -- I couldn't wait until Mondays arrived and could hear his much needed monologues.
Rush had the uncanny ability to make complicated stories sound simple. Not always easy when you're talking quantitative easing, greenwashing, feminazis, and the filibuster.
I owe my interest in politics to Rush -- his radio show was funny, cutting edge and, as he used to say, prep work for the major media networks. His show was the rebuttal to all things left. I would think -- finally, we had a voice in the media that didn't hate us. In fact, Rush brought "gravitas" to many conservative positions, including taxes, a strong border, pride in our county, hard work and the right to life.
Some of the best parts of his show were the parodies he put together -- "They're Coming To Take Me Away," "In A Yugo," a Ted Kennedy tribute, "A Philanderer," the Farrakhan "Candy Man" tune, Rev. Jackson's Stunning Rendition of Paul Anka's "Having My Baby," and the best, his "Gorbasm Update Theme." Who didn't enjoy hearing "God Bless You Rush Limbaugh" after coming back from a commercial break? I know I did.
There's not a day that goes by that I don't wonder what Rush would have to say about our current events. I am armed with plenty of information I read and listen to on the web, like Dennis Prager, Daily Wire, Dinesh D'Souzas, Larry Elder and Dan Bongino -- but it always falls short, or flat compared to what (and how) filled his three hour radio show.
With the censorship of social media, the lies being told about January 6th and the epic failings of Pres Biden and VP Harris, I think Rush would have soared to new heights. Dan Bongino has taken over the three hour slot here in La Crosse, and as I travel through the state, I can pick up other conservative speakers like Buck Sexton and Clay Travis on the EIB network. On television there's Tucker Carlson and The Five. But I hate to say it, combined, they don't fill the hole left by Rush's passing.
The loss of his powerful voice is one I will never get over. To say he was one of a kind comes up short. Speaking of short -- there is hope by watching Greg Gutfeld's late night show on FOX. I would have loved to see Rush on his show as a guest.
I've always said if I need to hear about bad news or face the harsh realities of the day, I want it told through humor. Right now, that's the formula Gutfeld uses to much success. He may never replace Rush, but there are times, I find myself wondering "What's Greg going to say about Nancy's Pelosi's eyebrows...."
RIP Rush!
NONE OF US is immune to loss -- good or bad, close or distant, funny or sad. If we're blessed, we benefited from the time we had them or it with us. I think the important thing my mom taught me, long before she succumbed to old age, is to keep looking for people who make life better. Whether it's family get togethers, music I love, a six week diet, or a controversial radio personality, they make me a better person.
It's one of many, but one of the most important, things I learned from the shutdowns of the last two years. Isolating ourselves from each other and abolishing activities that were thought too risky, damaged us in ways were are just starting to see. I play basketball with a father of a teenage girl who is going through a really difficult time because of the isolation and masking she's endured in middle and high school.
At a time you should be making friendships that last a life time, children were being told to be afraid of others and to stay away from classmates, grand parents and relatives.
At a time of unprecedented fear and stress, our schools, government and health professionals told us to stay home.
At a time when children needed them the most, the adults let them down.
That is a loss much greater than any I have faced. Liz and I are fortunate to have survived the last few years with jobs intact, family members who continued to welcome us into their lives and friends who happily shared our bourbon, boat and food.
My suggestion for getting over loss? Enjoy living while you have it.
