All week, Massachusetts has been mourning the passing of our senior Senator, Edward M. Kennedy. He was a tremendous man, tremendous in his successes, in his image, in his failings. And all week, I have found myself reflecting on what his legacy as a legislator has meant to my life. Nearly every cause I've fought for, my own profession, has somehow been shaped by his legislative influence, and mostly for good.
Those of us in politics, even lowly positions like School Committee, own the Senator a great debt of gratitude for his model of public service. As that is what we are, public servants. We are elected to be the voices of the people in our towns, to represent their voices on the boards that make decisions that affect their everyday lives. And with that role comes great responsibility. We have been so fortunate here in Massachusetts to have such a long running, tireless model of how to manage that responsibility and work for the common good. His shoes will never be filled. Never. Senator Kennedy was bigger than life, and so much more than just his office. As Vice President Biden so eloquently stated, "It was never about him; it was always about you," I am reminded to keep that in the forefront of my dealings with the citizens of my town, and with the parents of the students I serve in my district. It is not about me, or my agenda, it's about them.
I was one of the 50,ooo people that passed through the Kennedy library to pay their respects to the Senator, and it was a moving experience for me. I was there early, before the family had arrived, and I waited for 3 1/2 hours to get inside. But, it was a tremendous afternoon, and I'm glad I was there. All week, I had felt compelled to act somehow. Standing in line, I spoke to the people around me, and why they were there. We even made it on television. We were there when Caroline came out to greet the crowd, which was incredibly humbling.
I thought about my grandmother, how she worked on both his and JFK's campaign, how she was invited to a barbeque on the compound to thank her for her efforts, how, had she been alive, she would be standing in line with all these other women, to thank this family for this man and his service. I wrote in the condolence book, and prayed as I passed by the flag-draped coffin, and was left nearly speechless as his widow, Vicki, and nephew Joe greeted us as we left the viewing room. I thanked them for allowing me to participate in their mourning.
Because, remember, as much as he was a senator, from a storied American family, he was also a husband, father, grandfather, brother, uncle, and dear friend, and these individuals should be allowed to have their private moments of grief and sadness as well. Just because you're a Kennedy does not make you immune to sorrow; in fact, I think, you might actually learn to expect it. And there they all were, regal and comforting, even in their own sadness. It was an honor to be there, and a touching afternoon.
This morning I watched the funeral, and the dignitaries lined up row by row to pay respects. My alma mater's Chancellor, Father Donald Monan, celebrated the Mass, and our President delivered a stunning and elegant eulogy. But, President Obama was clearly upstaged by the pure emotion and tenderness from Teddy Jr.'s moving words. And as the rain falls on Massachusetts, as the Senator flies off to be buried by his brothers in Arlington National Cemetery, I am thankful that I have lived in a time that was made better by this man's life's work.
Godspeed, Senator. Thank you for your service, for your life.
Seriously, I let a whole week go by without putting one word up here? I must be slipping in my old age. It's been a busy, weird week all around, however, and since much of the weirdness is not my story to tell, only to process and support, I'm kind of at a loss for words.
I've spent time with my family, had dinner with friends, seen Bruce Springsteen, and worked. A lot. More than an educator still on summer vacation should be working. In that regard, next week is much of the same, time with family, Bruce Springsteen (in Mansfield, MA this time, Sunday), and more work. These types of things make for boring blogs.
The myth of summer vacation dies quickly as you get older and older. I cannot remember the last time September rolled around, and I actually felt refreshed. In all honesty, I feel like the last school year has really yet to end, and the new one is a few short weeks away. One of these summers, I need to take a REAL vacation--rent a beach house, or fly somewhere interesting, and truly get AWAY. My jaunts to visit my friends are always fun, but exotic? No. But, away enough to qualify as not having spent all summer in Norwood and the surrounding environs doing nothing. Which, was great when you were 8; at nearly 38, it's kind of depressing.
Plus, people I care about are having major, major life stressors this summer. Bad mojo floating around, personal, financial, health wise. One friend staring down the barrel of the past, one with the present holding a gun to his head, and one friend seeing the future blur. Crazy from the heat, and there is nothing I can really do for any of them, except watch and wait, and be ready with the car keys should the need arise. I'm here, and I think that means more to some than others, but it is what it is, I suppose.
So here it is, the end of the summer, and I feel like mine never even really began. Such is the unmagnificent lives of adults.
Sunday In The Afternoon, What Have You Got To Lose?
It would be completely remiss of me if I did not make SOME mention of the fact that this is the 40th anniversary of Woodstock. August 15-17, 1969. I don't know any adults who can claim to have been at the original; I do know that my mother and her friends were on their way to the festival, when reports of the traffic jams started coming through on the radio, and they turned around and came home. So Mom was "almost" at Woodstock.
That festival has always loomed large over my (and many of my friends') musical consciousnesses. We all know of the attempts to recreate the festival on the 25th and 30th anniversaries. I guess it just continues with the theme I've had this past week, of some times and memories being golden, and only happening once in a lifetime, and when they're gone, they're gone.
So, I give you a few reminisces of those muddy, rainy, tripped out days in '69.
Paul McCartney played Fenway Park last Thursday night, and at one point, I turned to Brian and asked him how many shows he and I had seen together, and neither of us could come up with a number. When you know someone for 22 years, and the strongest element you have in common is a love of music, that's going to be difficult to gauge, certainly. A few seconds later, he turned to me and said that of all of the music he's listened to over the course of his life, no musician has had a greater impact on him personally than Paul McCartney. This pretty much describes how special this concert really was: I saw a legend with one of my very best friends.
I don't throw that word "legend" around lightly, either. But, we ARE talking about Paul McCartney, a man who, with three of his very best friends, changed the popular musical landscape forever. Of all the bands that have influenced my life, I can safely say that The Beatles have had the most lasting impact on my musical consciousness as well. But, I was always a "Lennon" girl, and McCartney's solo career, until recently, had never excited me all that much. Sure, "Maybe I'm Amazed" is one of the greatest songs ever written, and as Bond themes go, "Live and Let Die" is classic. It was actually Brian's wedding that caused me to look closer at McCartney as a solo artist; he and Alicia chose most of the music the dj played at the reception, and there was so much Paul mixed through the night. I remember "My Love" playing during dinner, and stopping to listen. So, a few weeks ago, when Brian asked if I wanted to go to McCartney, I said yes, after a little persuasion and an agreement that I could pay him for the ticket out of some contract money coming later this month. As the days came closer and closer to this show, I started getting excited. REALLY excited. I was hearing rumors of Beatles song's he'd never played live before. And on Thursday, if you had a conversation with me, I told you I was going to McCartney at Fenway Park that night. Eventually, I think I compared myself to Millhouse, Brian's cockapoo, who finds the world exciting at all levels and just runs around in circles and jumps for joy at all times. By the time, Brian and I got to our seats in the 15th row, I was flapping and giggling.
I had every reason to be flapping, friends. McCartney and his band strolled out onto the stage in the outfield at Fenway Park, almost without warning, and immediately tore into "Drive My Car". The crowd exploded, not in a Beatles at Shea Stadium level(or, Suffolk Downs, the venue they played in this area, as Brian and I learned from a woman in Boston Beer Works who was there), but certainly in a exuberance matching the level of a legendary baseball park, home to a legendary, history-making, curse-shattering team, hosting one of the biggest pop culture icons of all time. And Sir Paul definitely has a grip on historical significance, and of being true to all aspects of the story. Now, admittedly, most people, even fans of his solo work, want to hear his songs from The Beatles days at the top of the list, and he respects and honors that. But, he is also very true to all portions of his history, and the set list spanned The Beatles, Wings, and recent solo work. He is also a shrewd business man, and gave the crowd what they wanted, at a high quality and in spades.
To speak of the extraordinary musical chops of the man who penned "Yesterday" is sort of like announcing to the world that the sky is blue; there's no need. And clearly, he's assembled a band that can roll with the changes, and enhance the mastery of some of the world's classic songs. They were a joy to watch, and to hear. Much of his later solo material I was not overly familiar with, but Brian had created a sampler of songs I'd hear to listen to on our way in to the park, so when "Calico Skies" came up in the set list, I knew it and enjoyed it. But, I have to be honest, The Beatles songs produced the most visceral reactions for me. With two exceptions: "Let Me Roll It" had me swaying to the music in a way I didn't thing was possible from a Wings song, but I've suddenly become totally in love with that song again. "I can't tell you how I feel/my heart is like a wheel/let me roll it/let me roll it to you..." And "Live and Let Die" was the pyrotechnic, bombastic masterpiece a Bond theme should be. Fireworks over Fenway, jets of flame shooting up from the front of the stage, and let me remind you, I was close enough to be able to feel those flames. Theatrical madness at its best.
My friends who had seen this show the night before honored my request to tell me NOTHING about what he may or may not play during the show, so when each song unfolded, I was mostly surprised. A few I had heard rumors about, so when "Helter Skelter" came out during the second encore, I was pumped at the confirmation of this. In fact, both encores were entirely Beatles material, giving the crowd exactly what they wanted. There were two instances of Beatles songs emerging that cause me to turn to Brian and ask "are you fucking kidding me?!?!" (as if Brian had any control over that set list, and I apologize for punching you in my exuberance). "Got To Get You Into My Life" was incredible to hear, and the background was comprised of animation from the soon-to-be-relased Rock Band Beatles edition. Which, is also making me SERIOUSLY consider getting a Wii, as the deluxe edition package comes with a Hoefner bass controller. Right. Moving on, the opening notes of "I've Got a Feeling", which ranks up there on my all-time favorite Beatles songs list, and is recently in heavy rotation for reasons other than this concert, made me start jumping up and down, screaming, and grabbing fistfuls of my hair in disbelief. I just couldn't believe I was standing there listening to him play this song. It was the one song I was hoping to hear, and never in a million years thought I would. It was pure joy.
In fact, joy was the reaction I was experiencing for most of the night, even during the Lennon and Harrison tributes, which were moving and dignified, and very true to Paul's relationship with each man. John's tribute was a little truncated, and still slightly angry, much like John's life, too short, gone too soon. George's tribute began with a rendition of "Something" that came dangerously close to turning into a "big fat dead Hawaiian man" version of the song, with Paul strumming a ukelele that George had given him, but the band came back after the first verse, and it was a beautifully fleshed out rendition. Pictures of the Beatles, and George alone, many taken by the late Linda McCartney (whose artistic presence was heavy in the set design graphics; it was lovely to see her pictures there), flashed behind him as he played. Miraculously, I didn't cry; I was just left feeling a sweet nostalgia and gladness that these two men knew each other for so long.
The moment I did cry was during "My Love". I don't know why. Maybe it was the aforementioned connection to Brian's wedding, maybe I'm hoping to sing that to someone soon, I truly don't know. But that was my one moment of tears. Not even a long moment, either. Most of the night, I was overcome with joy and amazement. During "Let It Be", my brain actually started to shut down. There I was, 15th row, maybe 30 to 50 yards from McCartney, who was singing "Let It Be". And, my brain started to spin. It was one of those, "I don't know whether to laugh or cry" moments, and my brain decided uncontrollable giggling was the way to go. I was so overloaded by watching McCartney (HE'S RIGHT FUCKING THERE!!!!!) play "Let It Be", I started to laugh, and almost couldn't stop. It never ceases to amaze me what kinds of reactions live music produces from me. During the crowd sing-a-long at the end of "Hey Jude", I had another one of those moments. Thinking back to watching Live Aid on television, and all those folks at Wembley singing "naaa, nah, nah,nanana naaah, nanana naaa, heeeey Jude", I nearly lost myself in the significance. However, I pulled out my camera instead, and took footage of the crowd.
This summer has been an incredible summer, filled with concerts. I had that stunning crowd unity moment after The Hold Steady in New Jersey, and then, I saw a legend with one of my best friends. A legend who completely lived up to his billing. This has bumped someone off of my Top 5 Live Shows Ever list, for certain. I am so glad Brian and Kevin convinced me I needed to go to this show. Because these moments don't happen often, and they make your life richer because you lived it, because you were there.
And in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make...
So, the 40th anniversary of Abbey Road is today. Before the show on Thursday night, as I was having an AMAZING watermelon ale at Boston Beer Works, I saw a gentleman wearing this shirt. I may or may not have said to Brian that it would make a fantastic tramp stamp. I also may or may not have decided it will be my third tattoo.
Seriously. Walking across the road and having your picture snapped is certainly ONE way to commemorate the love...
Think Of The Tender Things That We Were Working On
"Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you might miss it." ~Ferris Bueller
My words are currently all being used in service of processing the Paul McCartney concert last night, and I promise, I'll get to that on both of my blogs. For right now, however, I'm finding the world a little less funny, a little less angst-filled, a little less teenaged today, as the news that John Hughes, a filmmaker who CERTAINLY defined a generation, has died at the age of 59. So, some links for you to ponder.
His films were also notable for their choice of music, which helped propel bands such as "Simple Minds" and "Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark" to chart-topping success during the 1980s.
"I just used what I was listening to at the time, bands I liked," Hughes said in a rare 1999 interview. "It was my own personal taste."
"So I walk like I'm on a mission, 'cuz that's the way I groove. I've got more and more to do, I've got less and less to prove. It took me too long to realize that I don't take good pictures 'cuz I have the kind of beauty that moves..." Ani D.
