Death, finality and Christmas

Uncle Peter’s Lake Michigan Beach.

I CORNER NO market for misery. We all go through ups and downs. We all deal with death, finality.

It's a hammer blow and it leaves you reeling, especially at Christmas.

My uncle, Peter Hart, passed away Dec. 26. I will miss him and it seems surreal that he's gone. Peter died on his own terms after a long fight with cancer, with his family near, at home, in his sleep. My cousin Roland said they've been dealing with grief for a while, knowing he was terminally ill.

But death itself brings a new finality, and that's where the world gets ... murky.

I am still angry about my friend Jeff Vankanegan, who died Nov. 23. He and his wife and family and close friends went through hell in his final months because he had a rare neurological disease. I was praying hard as death closed in that he go to a better place. He did.

And now he's gone, and it's final. It's like trying to see in the dark, or swim through lava.

My brother Steve and I had a great talk with Peter on Sunday. He wanted us to know how important family was to him. After talking to him, I went into a strange daze.

In Holland, Michigan, Christmas Eve found Peter's family surrounding his bedside, knowing he'd be leaving soon. In Quincy I brought lunch to the Blessing lab for a friend, part of Peter's message to "be a light." Then I found myself in church that night strumming away and completely out of it. I think it went OK. 

Now Peter is gone, and his wife and children grieve and move on. It's hard to describe, this huge void, but we've all been there and we all have different coping mechanisms.

I'm at a loss for words. So I'm going to let a few other people explain it.

First, this comes from 11-year-old Henry Shelley, the son of my cousin Maaike, who lives in Ontario.

"Christmas is like a magnifying glass for your life. - if things are going great, the holidays are so much fun and exciting; if you're struggling with something, the holidays can make things extra hard. Everything is magnified."

Maaike and Brian are raising amazing humans.

This is from cousin Natalie Hart, daughter of Peter.

"I feel like I understand how people came up with the idea of Purgatory. Not for theological reasons, but because of how in-between things feel for us when someone we love dies. Life has changed, but it also doesn't feel like it will when the reality of loss settled in. Yesterday I kept looking for a checklist for what to do after a loved one dies and none of them seemed right. But then I realized I was just in-between."

And finally, from my aunt Willa Hart, sister of Peter, in reply to Natalie's comment.

"I understand you. You feel like you should be able to move on faster than you are. After all you had plenty of time to get used to the idea he (Peter) was going to die soon. But then it actually happens and it seems so surreal. Death is a mystery and so  hard to accept even when it's expected. The more you loved someone the harder it is. Give yourself lots and lots of time. Death stings for a long time and then very slowly your grief begins to shift. Always loved and never forgotten."

Geesh. Just give Aunt Willa a doctorate in Understand Life right now.

I am playing three shows in the next five days, so that's how I'm going to deal with it. I'm raising a glass at each one to Jeff, Peter, and all those who have departed. I'm just going to ... keep going.

That's it! 2025 - Just Keep Going.

Peace.

Ten years later, it's still Been So Long

LIKE MOST THINGS about Second String Music, memory is kind of a blur. For more than 11 years was quite the adventure, and every now and then I miss it.

I just realized the infamous "Been So Long" Christmas video, done by the amazing Chris and Victoria Kelley at Table 16 Productions, is 10 years old. Ten. TEN. Now that is really hard to believe.

It's an original song and the video was inspired by the Cheeks McGee song and video for White Christmas, which was made the year before by the Kelleys in Washington Park and on the roof of our Second String Music building. That video features the Mitchell kids and Lucy, Sheryl's beloved Border Collie. Also I lost my keys while doing a snow angel and found them in the park the next day in the melting snow.

Typical of the Kelley genius and creativity, the Cheeks video was done very spontaneously. It snowed on a Saturday night and they decided to make the video the next day. 

Why we decided to make a video of our own is no longer recalled. Perhaps it was because we let Chris film many of his Full Frame movie scenes on the third floor (it's the room with the red curtains). I do remember not wanting a script and just shooting stuff in the building, and making it goofy.

So, on a Sunday afternoon in early December, Greg Ellery and Adam Yates joined me at the store. Ben Poland and Mike Sorensen were there to help. Chris quickly figured out what we wanted to do and did his usual job of making sugar out of shit, and boom, a few weeks later we had our video.

Yes, we almost got hit by a car on Maine Street. Yes, Angus is eating something disgusting on the sidewalk in the last scene. Yes, that is the legendary office of Mr. Houston on the fourth floor. And I just caught this at about the 55 second mark - the door in the bank vault painted by Jeff VanKanegan. What I wouldn't give to find that door today, long lost and forgotten after several renovations to the space.

So here it is again, 10 years later, as the years and memories blur. The video, however, doesn't. 

Merry Christmas!

Best Christmas decoration ever

 YESTERDAY I WAS picking up labs at Blessing's Express Clinic, where the Sears tire store used to be. No, you can't get your tires rotated or brake pads replaced. Yes, the crew will do a great job looking at your sore throat and figuring out if you have strep.

One of the crew, and I won't use her real name but her initials are Maria, likes to decorate the place. She is really good at drawing spring, summer, fall and winter scenes on the windows. So Christmas is right up her alley. As I was leaving yesterday she said, "Take this and decorate it and bring it back,." It was s small paper stocking. I had no clue what to do.

So I did the smart thing and brought it to Blessing's 48th Street lab. There I left the blank piece of paper with young Lab Brat Ashley, who is constantly doodling and made up a bunch of cool Christmas gingerbread people to put on the doors.

I'm not into Christmas decorations or lights. Christmas at Second String Music featured my comically inept attempts to decorate a fake tree and string lights. In fact, in the last few years, we just left the lights up around the ceiling. Why take them down? They'll just go up again the next year.

Anyway, I figured Ashley would color a nice little ornament. I was wrong. So, so wrong. 

Instead, she made what might be the nicest Christmas decoration ever, in the history of yuletide and glad tidings toward men. 

 It has a musical note for the R. There's a golf club in it. And a guitar, with the right amount of strings and everything! I was blown away and I'm not worthy of such graphic arts excellence. Ashley obviously put a lot of thought into a simple Christmas decoration, and she nailed it.

I brought it to Express on my last stop of the night. Maria and the crew were impressed, to say the least. There are some very cool paper stockings hanging up on walls in there now, and it feels less like a place to get your oil changed or checked for walking pneumonia and much more like Christmas. 

Now mine is up there too and it looks ... amazing.

Almost as amazing as the person who made it for me.

It's the little things, Santa. Merry Christmas Ashley! And everybody else too! See? A little Christmas cheer can go a long way.

 

Coco and the Lions - ROAR

 COCO AND I are watching the Lions play the Packers tonight. Coco is a huge Lions fan. Coco thinks she IS a Lion. I just go along with it for the sake of domestic peace.

I've been a Lions fan since moving to Michigan 44 years ago. The great thing about living in Quincy is that most Lions games (until now) aren't on television in this market and people usually feel sorry for me when learning my devotion to a historically bad team. 

Not now.

Last year the Lions were good. Really, really good. So good they should have gone to the Super Bowl, where they would have clubbed that team west of here, the one with all the fair-weather and bandwagon fans. In a very short time, Detroit got an excellent young coach, an experienced gunslinger quarterback, two amazing running backs, the best offensive line in the NFL and a defense that bends but seldom breaks. 

Coco getting pensive before a Lions game.

 

Unlike that team to the west, the Lions haven't relied on pure luck to go 11-1. True, the Bears did fall apart in the final seconds a week ago - but being a Lions fan for so long, it's impossible to have any sympathy for a team inventing ways to lose games.

Coco and I warmed up for tonight's big game by watching Michigan beat that team to the south last Saturday. I wasn't going to watch - I thought for sure Michigan would get trounced. Instead, it was the other team who played like it had a huge anchor tied to its feet. 

As far as the end of the game, Coco and I were disgusted at both teams and it tempered our love of the college football. Many things do. Still .... Michigan has won the last four games. Can't do anything about that, team down south.

Coco is a bit nervous about tonight - Green Bay smacked Detroit last year in the game at Ford Field, and the Packers are very good. I may have to give Coco a kitty sedative before it starts because she gets quite vocal and upset. Or she is napping on my lap with one eye open watching the game.

Cats are multitaskers, you know.

Wouldn't it be great if the Lions keep winning and get to the Super Bowl? Coco all but guarantees it. I'm not that dumb. But we will watch, together, fingers and paw crossed, and hope for the best.

 

Celebrating 60 and Jeff VK

  SATURDAY WAS ONE of the best days of my life. And one of the longest.

I turned 60. My sister Charys was here from Colorado and my cousin Roland and wife Amy drove down from Michigan. We had a glorious jam session in my garage Saturday night with great musician friends and about 30 people. It reminded me of the fun Saturdays before Thanksgiving at Second String Music, when we'd have a party and toast our friend Pat Cornwell.

Early Saturday morning, former Cheeseburger bass player Jeff Vankanegan passed away. We jammed with Jeff in July for a one-off gig, and he was mentally still sharp and could still play. But physically he was struggling with a rare neurological disorder, and he ended up not playing the show. 

He went fast after that. 

Jeff at Cheeseburger show last year.

Kirk Gribbler and I went to see him in Good Samaritan Home a week ago Sunday. We played a few songs for him and Mary in his small room. Jeff was confined to a wheelchair and couldn't express his thoughts, but he clearly knew where he was and what we were doing. Mary grabbed his hand and "danced" with Jeff. He gave us big "WOO HOOS" after every song. As we left, he tried to tell us something, and I think it was to come back and do it again.

But he turned two days later. By Wednesday he was at Blessing Hospital. I saw him Friday morning, and he was resting peacefully, Mary holding his hand while sleeping in a chair next to the bed. 

At 4:20 a.m. Saturday, Jeff left us.

Saturday night in the Calftown garage, we toasted Pat Cornwell, Frank Haxel and Steve Pezzella. Then Kirk and I talked for a minute about Jeff. There were tears and laughter and even the people who didn't know Jeff were moved. Kirk had a framed photo of Jeff playing his bass at a show and proudly showed it to everybody.

Then we started playing and it was ... magic. I'm not mentioning names of everybody who participated because I'll forget somebody, but man did it cook. And I will say having Allison Hutson, Monica Scholz and Alicia McCarl all singing like the beautiful songbirds they are was ... special.

Kirk invited Jeff's son, Mike, to hang out with us. Mike didn't know a soul in the room. It didn't matter. We stopped the jam and had another toast to Jeff. "I can feel the love for my dad," Mike said.

Sunday, I took my sister Charys to Bingo at Quincy Brewing Company. We had the best time, and did absolutely nothing the rest of the day. 

At work yesterday, people asked me how it went. "Talk to me Wednesday. Maybe I'll be recovered by then," I said.

I've been talking about future plans, maybe moving back to Michigan in a few years to be closer to the big hole in the ground full of water. 

But after Charys, Roland and Amy experienced the jam session and saw all those people and felt all that love, they had a different opinion.

"You aren't leaving Quincy," they said. 

They might be right.

The day always breaks, sleep or no sleep

 

FOUR YEARS AGO I got Covid for the first time. It was awful. I have blocked most of it out.

The other day I saw a Facebook memory of the sun rising in Quincy. It was taken four years ago, the day after I got Covid, from the roof of our Second String Music building at Fifth and Maine. I must have climbed the stairs and found solace in the sunrise - I wasn't sleeping and I was ticked off in general about Covid and the world.

Sleeping well has always been an issue. Not falling asleep, but staying asleep. So I get it as much as I can when I can.

Three examples about going to sleep come to mind. A few weeks ago, the World Series was on. It was the fifth game. The Dodgers were about to win. It was about the eighth inning. But I was ready for bed. And I couldn't have cared less. In younger years I would have stayed up just to see what happened. Not this time.

ZZZZZZZZ.

Then it was election night. I attempted to stomach TV coverage but gave up after 10 minutes. The results wouldn't change if I stayed up or went to bed - and going to bed was way more important. It's going to be a long four years, but you know what? I'll still go to bed and try to get sleep. We'll get through it, one way or the other.

Then, finally, the most crushing and crucial sleep story - last Sunday night, the Detroit Lions played the Houston, whatevers. Oilers? Texans? I watched the first half at a friend's house and it didn't look good for the Lions. So I went home, watched the third quarter .... and fell asleep on the couch.

When I woke up the game was over. I was exhausted from a rock and roll weekend, so I simply got up, brushed my teeth, and went to bed.

The next morning, I couldn't believe it. These are not the same old Lions. They kicked two long field goals in the last five minutes and won. 

Coco, my cat, is a huge Lions fan. In fact, Coco thinks she's a Lion. She wasn't happy I fell asleep and missed the end of the game. "You call yourself a Lions fan?" she said, giving me an angry glare.

I asked her why she didn't wake me up. "Because I was sleeping," she said. "But that's what cats do. You have NO excuse."

True. But I refuse to feel guilty about it. 

Next week, I turn 60. This is scaring the living crap out of me. What? SIXTY? And the thing is ... I'm wondering how I'm going to stay awake for the festivities, whatever they end up being.

Actually, I'm going to make an effort to say up that night. And maybe the night before. But definitely not the night after.

I'll still be 60 the next day, sleep or no sleep.