It’s been a while, I know. Sorry. Today I ran 12 kilometers with Spotify’s playlist “70’s all out.” They served me Electric Light Orchestra’s Mr. Blue Sky, Earth Wind and Fire’s September and to top it off some sweet CCR howling out Bad Moon Arising.
The music brought me back to fishing trips and adventures with dad. Wide eyed and happy to be in the woods, by the lake, in the rain, on the ice, motoring across Harding Lake in his river boat with Laurie, cool-as-cool-can-be step mom.
Then, my parasympathetic system hit me with Cortisol when the Eagles featured on the play list. Hair on end, I felt buoyed by the memories of love, adventure, candor, and mustached manhood. My dad, The Man.
Then I thought that I am pushing 51, the same age dad passed away. Life, adventure, and love ripped from the stage by glioblastoma (brain cancer).
And 50 isn’t that old. Look at me if you can. I’m giving the one fingered salute with both hands to the number. F**k you 50. I might die tomorrow, but I will live today. It all came tumbling through my mind as I ran. More cortisol.
Then spotify got me. Staying Alive was next on the playlist. I’m embarrassed to admit this, but the Bee Gees had me on my toes. I got distracted by nostalgia, by thoughts of sorrow and lost love…
Well now, I get low and I get high
And if I can’t get either, I really try
Got the wings of heaven on my shoes
I’m a dancing man, and I just can’t lose
My friends, keep dancing and be the nut you were born to be. That’s all. Even if the wise nudge comes from the Bee Gees. That’s all I have to say. Keep dancing.