2020

June 15, 2020

Hi, dad.

Well here we are again. This year you would have been 79. I’m not sure I can imagine that. I can’t imagine you getting old like that. Getting old just wasn’t your style, was it?

I hope you liked your new album, Losst and Founnd. I know you’re proud of Kiefo, who helped put it together and played bass on it. Man, I can only imagine the music you two would have created together if you had just stayed around a while longer. Remember that song you did with me? I recorded a tape full of songs and sent them to you, and then you came up with some lyrics and sang on top of what I sent you, despite how terrible those songs were. I hope you know how happy that made me, as an insecure, lonely teenager. I know that collaborating with your kids musically would have been a highlight of your longer years. I wish… I just wish.

You were a great dad. The best I ever had. We all miss you down here. I know Jimmy still misses you every day. I know Van Dyke does too. And so does Ringo, and Keltner, and so many others. The mark you made on our lives was indelible and unforgettable, because that’s the kind of person you were. I saw that growing up, I saw how you treated people and I saw how it changed the people you interacted with. It made me strive to be better, to be the kind of person that maybe other people would like to be around. You showed me how to do it, albeit in a much less impactful way.

That may have been your biggest gift to me. You led by example, and showed me what kindness, empathy and warmth really meant. You showed me how everyone benefits from simple, pure, kindness and empathy. I saw you do kind things for complete strangers so many times, I don’t even think you knew how much I was learning from you. And you have no idea how much that’s needed today, dad. We need it so badly right now. I know that if you were down here right now you would be screaming at the top of your lungs that black lives matter.

Because you knew that the only way everything gets better is when we take care of each other. As with most things, you were way ahead of your time.

This may be my last letter to you, dad. My cancer has gotten worse. No more surgical procedures can be performed, and the chemo is becoming ineffective. I don’t like to call the game before it’s over, and it’s not over yet, but I’m already 7 runs behind and cancer’s got loaded bases in the bottom of the ninth. I’m also no good at sports metaphors. I’m just saying… may not be too much longer now before I can come see you again.

I don’t want to leave, you know? I’ve made a lot of friends down here. Well look who I’m talking to, you know what I mean. But as much as we try, we never really have control over our own destiny, do we? I have so much more I want to do, so many more cancerokes to sing, or play drums to. So many more gatherings with friends I want to attend. But… I have to play the cards life dealt me.

The highest honor I can think of is to be remembered as fondly as you are, dad. If, after all is said and done, I can make people smile even a fraction as much as you do, well… I hope that means I took your lessons to heart and added my small, insignificant light to the world we live in. You know I’m not perfect either, and I hope I can be forgiven for all the times I’ve strayed. But I’d like to think that, for the most part, I’ve followed your example.

I didn’t contribute much. I didn’t really add much music. I didn’t stand out or excel like you did. But I sure did give a lot of hugs. And maybe that’s good enough.

#blacklivesmatter