A Vigil

As my father moves through the gauzy epilogue of his time on this plane of existence, I think about our common nature, and the scaffolding influence of his nurture. I'm conscious of the nearly universal grasp for immortality, and how it manifests in the name my father and I share: my first and last inheritance from him, and his first and last investment in the eternal. I drive to work alongside the sunrise, singing with my latest musical obsession, and I marvel at how fully I’ve come into my life, just as his closes. Maybe, like a clone in a science fiction tale, I’m not so much myself as him continuing, as he intended when he placed his name on my birth certificate. I mourn the end of his meaningful experiences in this world, but I like the idea that in some way, I’m an extension of those experiences. Every moment we die and are reborn. The person we were, who so feared not existing, ceased to exist almost immediately, and will again, and again after that. So it is as my father drifts with the mortal tide to his dusky punctuation, and a small part of him is driving forth to another job, another song, another sunrise.

I used to read Auden...

then again, I used to work in a mall.

2020GQ mix: Old 97s- Here’s to the Halcyon

Happy songs about sad things. That is the flavor I keep in bulk in the pantry of my musical tastes, especially through my (now waning) 40s. It’s also the specialty of one of my all-time favorite bands- a relatively recent member in the pantheon of Ted musical obsessions- Old 97s. I came for the punk-country-rock-hybrid sound, but I’ve stayed for the puns, word play, metaphors and literary allusions of their songwriting. They also do a great live show- I’ve seen them more than any other band.

This is one of theirs I love- a direct appeal during a crisis from a flawed mortal to a divinity they maybe don’t talk to daily. It is a quintessential Pandemic-Easter tune to me.