I was chatting with Gareth about music and mentioned that my brothers and I used to exchange mixtapes going back to the eighties. Then CDs and thumb drives with mp3 files on them.
Thinking about that provoked me to go back and dust off this old tape from Jim, and I decided to digitize it.
And while I was at it, I gave it a light edit and remix. Tweak, crunch and slice. Why not? We have the technology.
Nice.
I took it in my mind to read something I wrote about this shit
You know you’re born and you have no idea what you’re getting into
And then you grow up a little and think maybe you’re starting to get a handle on it
But nope you’re wrong.
And then life really kicks you in the gut and you think this is it.
this is really it.
This is reality and it sucks and it’s depressing and there is no bottom
but you’re still wrong and you’ll never figure it out because it’s too big and too obvious and it’s right next to you.
It’s all around you. Life is all around you, love is all around you.
but death is all around you too.
it’s the other side of life
the other half.
the opposite which defines the other.
It’s the shadow that defines the light, and makes the thing apparent to the human mind.
And the knowledge of death has a generative power, it’s mysterious, eternal and universal.
It makes you cherish the brief life you do have, the love we share, how rare and precious it all is.
These are the kind of things Rob and I used to talk about.
But nevermind any of that.
what I want to say is that I always felt very close to you Rob, from the time you were a little kid playing with your sisters and your cousins.
you couldn’t have been happier. I know because I have been there myself, and you brought me back, you brought me there again, we were all there together.
And over the years as you grew up, we recognized each other.
you were one of us.
we were mostly separated in space and time. but I can say that I felt as close to you as I have ever felt to anyone.
I still do feel close to you, Rob. I loved you and I love you still.
but the worst part is that I know you loved me too and now that love has passed from the world and I am the lesser for it as are we all.
But the world is a better place because you were in it Rob, even if only for a little while.
Love you forever!
the drive along sagtikos parkway
to sunken meadow
learning to swim
the way the light filtered through the trees
that flickering sunlight through the leaves
and we were going to the beach
I still get that feeling from time to time,
that time of the morning
that time of the year
when the light is just right
and it hits your eyes a certain way.
and you feel something different, something new.
the long way this time, because
sunken meadow was further away than
jones beach
but for some reason, we chose to go this way today.
and we got there and played in the sand
and splashed in the water
and the old man swam lengths between the
lifeguard’s flags
mom would swim too, for a while
and then she sat in a beach chair under an umbrella
looking beautiful, and admiring her husband no doubt
and feeling feelings only mothers know while watching her children play
and our whole family there, it was something, I’ll tell you.
and after a while he came in to us
he lowered himself into the warm
calm, shallow water of the sound
we were standing waist deep
on coarse, wet sand, rocks and seashells
pretty clear today.
and he crawled up to us, only his head above water
and it was like he was one of us.
and he told me to climb onto his back.
I climbed up onto his back,
all rough and coarse
like an old sea turtle
and it was warm, August, I guess
and the Sound was salty that time of year,
more bouyant
and he began to swim out,
the breast stroke
and I rode his back like riding an old dragon.
and he told me to do what he was doing,
I did.
and slowly, he began to lower himself into the water,
and the next thing you know, I was doing the breast stroke out there in Long Island Sound.
at least that’s the way I remember it.
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