I was sitting down at my laptop with a cup of coffee just like I do so many mornings. The bitter February wind breathes hard just outside the kitchen window. I went to sleep last night, listening to songs from the summer of 1985. Being so associative, this is nothing short of a time machine for me.
Photo by Cole Keister on Unsplash
As the keys clicked on the laptop, I began to tell the story of the late spring of 85 in which I quit my job at the refinery and took a job working for the City of Port Aransas. It was a major turning point in my life. As I wrote, so much depth about my father started pouring out. I realized that 1985 has one thing so unique that no other year after 1972 can boast. It was the year I lived near my father for the whole year. Not since I was 7 had that happened, and never would it again. It was then I knew. 1985 needs to be told completely.
That is going to be a very difficult story to tell. In that one year I was forced to grow 20 years. But I am going to do it. While I still can, I want people to know my father, and in telling these stories, that will happen. Thinking about this, I now know, it is the Dear Heather effect. I want to wring every detail from these times. Fortunately for me, I have so much more context than Leonard Cohen did. But, my great teacher, still speaking to me sweetly from his window in the tower of song leads the way.
I am only beginning to understand that there is much in the most treasured parts of my life that I need to unfold the hidden richness that a younger me took mostly for granted. So many people I wish could know how important they have been to me.
In the past few days I have been knocked off my feet by an explosion that saw a friend’s life go from well-established business as usual, to the absolute erasure of him and his family from the face of the earth. Oblivion and tragedy. I can not imagine what this is like for those of his family left behind, it is the end of the world as they know it. My heart cries for them.
It is strange how something like this helps me to understand my own childhood and respect the people who raised me even more. There is a reckoning coming in these days long in hours, that I cannot hide from. In Days of Future Passed I have crossed that terminator from “Forever Afternoon (Tuesday?)” over to “(Evening) Time to Get Away”. Mr Hayward, I held onto Tuesday afternoon until my hands lost their strength. Mr. Lodge was expecting me, this I know. He asks me, “What on earth took you so long?” Denial Mr. Lodge, denial. You penned these beautiful compositions when I was only a baby and somehow, thanks to my parents they have become the soundtrack for my life. I know, it symbolizes all of our lives. Whatever.
So 1985, you will get your place in the ionosphere, it will be highs and so many lows. It is a brutal fistfight that forged who I became, and who I really was deep down inside the whole time. Allons-y!