Where Are We Now?
Have you heard the new David Bowie song?
It's so good. Really grew on me. It kind of dovetails into my blog about living after something that happens. It's been stuck in my head for weeks.
Where are we now?
Bowie sings hauntingly.
As long as there's sun. As long as there's you. As long as there's me.
He doesn't answer his own question about where he is now, but you get the feeling, he's moving ahead.
The other evening someone posted this photo on Twitter:
It's obviously Bruce from back in the 80's. I'd never seen the can featured. I posted it to my Facebook page, remembering the release of the Born in the USA CD and thinking about one night in particular back in college. My roommate George and our friend Diane listened to Dancing in the Dark over and over. We drank about 72 beers. Evidently Bruce looked good in the video because Diane said:
"I wish you looked like Bruce."
Not exactly a ringing endorsement.
Immediately after the post I received a quick comment.
"Remember when Dancing in the Dark came out?" Diane posted. She's now happily married and living somewhere out West. We sent a couple of comments back and forth laughing about how old we are. She asked me about another old friend.
"Where is he now?"
And it got me thinking.
Where are some of the people who came rushing into my life and headed back out?
Are they all right?
We had one roommate who joined us one year as an outsider. It was tough to fit in with our tight group. It was tougher for him because he was born with a birth defect that left him limping badly with each step. He also had long hair, smoked a lot of pot, and kept telling us over and over that Jimi Hendrix was a god.
We laughed at him. Bruce was the god of music! Unfortunately we also picked up on his birth defect. On the first day one of us, who will remain nameless, (Fluffy) called him Clubfoot. He went with it. Soon enough that was all we called him.
"Hi Clubfoot."
"Good morning Clubfoot."
"You want in on the pizza, Clubfoot?"
He never protested his nickname.
Until one night. Very late at night, with empty beer bottles scattered all around, he talked over the thirty-fifth consecutive playing of The River album.
"I have to say something," he said. He was obviously intoxicated because the tears flowed easily. "I was born with a birth defect," he said. "I have a half of a foot. I moved in here looking for friends, and you all called me clubfoot. Every time you say it, it makes my heart ache."
We were stunned into silence. The needle on the record hit the end. Not one person reached for their beer.
He pushed back away from the table and started the long painful walk back towards his bedroom. The tears were still in his swollen eyes.
I bowed my head.
George bowed his head.
Diane bowed her head.
The only one who found the strength to speak was Fluffy.
"Good night," he said.
There was a long pause.
"Clubfoot!" He finished.
When Diane sent her message I thought of that poor guy who closed the door to our drunken laughter.
Where is he now?
I hope he's a millionaire, blasting his Hendrix CD's and sharing his life with some real friends.
It's so good. Really grew on me. It kind of dovetails into my blog about living after something that happens. It's been stuck in my head for weeks.
Where are we now?
Bowie sings hauntingly.
As long as there's sun. As long as there's you. As long as there's me.
He doesn't answer his own question about where he is now, but you get the feeling, he's moving ahead.
The other evening someone posted this photo on Twitter:
It's obviously Bruce from back in the 80's. I'd never seen the can featured. I posted it to my Facebook page, remembering the release of the Born in the USA CD and thinking about one night in particular back in college. My roommate George and our friend Diane listened to Dancing in the Dark over and over. We drank about 72 beers. Evidently Bruce looked good in the video because Diane said:
"I wish you looked like Bruce."
Not exactly a ringing endorsement.
Immediately after the post I received a quick comment.
"Remember when Dancing in the Dark came out?" Diane posted. She's now happily married and living somewhere out West. We sent a couple of comments back and forth laughing about how old we are. She asked me about another old friend.
"Where is he now?"
And it got me thinking.
Where are some of the people who came rushing into my life and headed back out?
Are they all right?
We had one roommate who joined us one year as an outsider. It was tough to fit in with our tight group. It was tougher for him because he was born with a birth defect that left him limping badly with each step. He also had long hair, smoked a lot of pot, and kept telling us over and over that Jimi Hendrix was a god.
We laughed at him. Bruce was the god of music! Unfortunately we also picked up on his birth defect. On the first day one of us, who will remain nameless, (Fluffy) called him Clubfoot. He went with it. Soon enough that was all we called him.
"Hi Clubfoot."
"Good morning Clubfoot."
"You want in on the pizza, Clubfoot?"
He never protested his nickname.
Until one night. Very late at night, with empty beer bottles scattered all around, he talked over the thirty-fifth consecutive playing of The River album.
"I have to say something," he said. He was obviously intoxicated because the tears flowed easily. "I was born with a birth defect," he said. "I have a half of a foot. I moved in here looking for friends, and you all called me clubfoot. Every time you say it, it makes my heart ache."
We were stunned into silence. The needle on the record hit the end. Not one person reached for their beer.
He pushed back away from the table and started the long painful walk back towards his bedroom. The tears were still in his swollen eyes.
I bowed my head.
George bowed his head.
Diane bowed her head.
The only one who found the strength to speak was Fluffy.
"Good night," he said.
There was a long pause.
"Clubfoot!" He finished.
When Diane sent her message I thought of that poor guy who closed the door to our drunken laughter.
Where is he now?
I hope he's a millionaire, blasting his Hendrix CD's and sharing his life with some real friends.
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