Depressed? Who the Hell Isn't?

-
So you fired up about the Olympics?

Me neither.

Have you read about that actress that cheated on her boyfriend by making out in a car with the guy who directed the movie?

Must be an a ton of fun to be totally ashamed in front of the entire country.

He's better off.

Paterno's statue came down, huh?

I honestly felt real bad for his kids who are out there trying to salvage the respect that his father built through the years.

I believe that's a lost cause.

Helluva' lesson in there. All the good you do is quickly forgotten when you spend years being dumb. He was way too egotistical to be a legend.

Never mind a statue.

Jesus deserved a statue. He didn't get it. They hung him instead.

Yet the news that I was most drawn to this week was the New Yorker article about Bruce Springsteen.

It's a great, great article.

I know most of the story, of course. Bruce's Dad suffered from depression, and he made Bruce's early life a living hell. Bruce tried his best to return the favor by playing his guitar really loud and growing out his hair.

Bruce also hit it real big, against all odds, after his parents left him on the East Coast and moved out West.

But what got me about the article was the story of Bruce's depression.

After he hit it big.

Going to the concerts and listening to the songs and reading the lyrics I've always been so sure that Bruce was on top of the world. Yeah, he talks about a lot of heady things. Certainly his written words had drifted to the dark side, but he thought about suicide????

Say it isn't so.

"It's a surprising article," I said to my great sister-in-law Dana.

"Just proves that he's human," Dana said.

"Yeah, that's what's surprising," I answered.

But loneliness comes in all forms. As a writer I get a lot of feedback...in this blog, and through the books. A lot of people will ask me if I'm in a bad mood because I rant a little.

Others think I'm actually a happy-go-lucky guy.

The truth is somewhere in between.

I should not have been so surprised by Bruce's down moods.

"He never took a drug in his life," I told my beautiful wife. "He was afraid that he would sink into a depression he couldn't get out of."

"Isn't that crazy?"

"Not really," Kathy said. "There's little doubt that all writers are a little weird."

Oh really now!

As someone who does follow the news and feels for those who suffer and then tries to make sense of it, I can tell you one thing:

Kathy is absolutely right.

As usual.


Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Suits

-
Like a lot of other people we got pulled into the series, ‘Suits’ on Netflix. I’ve never had much fun hanging around lawyers who have questioned me as a construction safety officer. I once testified in a case where the opposing lawyer started questioning me by going through my educational background. “So,” he said, racing to a crescendo, “You graduated from college with a degree in Communications-Journalism and suddenly, 30 years later, you’re a ‘safety expert.’” He actually made the quotation marks with his fingers. I just looked at him. “How does that happen?” He bellowed, sure that he was going to discredit me. “Well,” I said. “I knew I was overqualified to become a lawyer.” The courtroom erupted in laughter. Even the judge chuckled. The rest of his questions landed flat. So, I wasn’t all that keen on a show about lawyers, but ‘Suits’ is great. Meghan Markle became a princess because of the show, and she is very good in it (and a beautiful woman). Yet, there is so much more. The wri
Read more

My Buddy, Dave

-
Way back in 1997, I started working with a steel erection company out of Syracuse. I was coming straight from a long stint with a steel erector here in Buffalo so I knew my stuff when it came to steel erection safety rules. On day one, I met with the safety director and he was just getting started as a safety guy, but man, he certainly cared about the guys he worked with. Dave was a good man from the start. He’d say things like: “You’re so full of beans.” Just a down to earth, hardworking guy who became a fast friend. We drove all around New York State setting up jobs. I always let Dave drive so that I could rest. One fine day, way up North of Syracuse, we passed a state trooper.  I glanced at the speedometer. “You’re screwed,” I said, and seconds later, the lights came on. Dave was beside himself.  The cop stopped by the window, grabbed the license and registration and headed back to his vehicle. “Here’s the thing,” I said. “You’re pissed, but you’re such a good guy that I bet you tha
Read more

Mom & Ollie

-
Image
 Ollie Stadium is a mess. The heavy rains rendered the backyard a mud pit and even though we threw in the side yard, the Big O was looking for more, and we were both covered in mud. I had to take some steam out of him somehow so I suggested we go visit Grandma. Ollie hates the car, but he laid quietly as we made the trip. We even brought the football because there is plenty of room to play at Grandma’s. Mom opened the door and started laughing. I thought about the love she had for every single dog we ever had. Oliver was quick to give my Mom a kiss, and then he stood beside her. The love between Mom and Dogs is a mutual bond. Through the years, Mom would make breakfast for the dogs.  Fried eggs, toast, bacon… She would wrap Christmas gifts for them. “To Jeter, Love Santa,” she would write on the cards. They played with the big chicken that made a lot of noise. Mom tossed the football and Ollie brought it back to her. As the visit drew to a close I headed for the door.  “C’mon, Oliver,”
Read more