Month: October 2017

October 23: There has been a huge outpouring of emotion following the death of Gord Downie almost a week ago. He was a public figure, a musical icon and a man of apparent warmth and integrity. More than 10 million of us watched the Tragically Hip concert in August of last year, and, at the time, I wrote that it would be interesting to see what he did during what little time remained for him.

He has been busy:  he finalized an album with the Hip; he conceived, wrote and produced an album, a graphic novel and performed a concert telling the story of  Chanie Wenjack ( “Secret Path” ); he released a book of his own poetry. He visited the north and used his reputation to highlight issues facing the First Nations community. Any of these would be a signature achievement. That he achieved them all under such dire circumstances is remarkable and a true measure of his determination.

So we are left again to consider what might have been. What more might he have accomplished had he lived longer ? But I think that approach misses an important point: what he achieved was inspirational. We shouldn’t think about what he might have done, but rather about what we might do ourselves if we gather even a small amount of  inspiration from his example. What more appropriate way to remember Gord Downie than to use his untimely end as motivation to accomplish meaningful things in what little time remains for us

* * * * *

October 25: On last night’s show, Rick Mercer did a segment on Gord Downie which nicely captured what I think Downie was about. Love him or hate him, here’s Rick:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=utSEoGFh1tI

October 6: He’s the kind of guy that you encounter on the TTC and hope that he will not be interested in having a conversation. You know the type: he seems slightly sweaty and his clothes are all a bit outdated and a size too large; his hair is too long and obviously hasn’t been washed in a while; he moves like a man who has been mainlining caffeine for days and his eyes dart around the bus like an animal looking for a quick exit.

He sat opposite me on the Davisville bus last week as I returned home from the second week of practice with the New Horizon Band. Frequent reader(s) may recall that I played with them 2 years ago and, although I enjoyed making music, I put my electric bass aside in favour of other things. During the Summer, I decided that the band deserved another chance with more commitment to practicing and learning on my part. So it was with some quiet happiness that I sat on the bus with my bass in it’s gig bag, standing on the floor in front of me. I will admit that I had positioned it to partly block my view to Mr. Java Brain, who was now sitting directly opposite. Didn’t work.

“So you play bass” he says, loud enough for the folks in the back of the bus to hear. “I do” says I, “but it’s just my second week”. I hoped that my lack of experience would put him off some how. “So do I” he says, and then proceeds with a monologue outlining the type of bass he plays, the strings he uses and the way he can figure out tunes by playing a recording from YouTube through a tuning machine. “Of course, I have to have it restrung backwards because of my fingers.”

Only then do I notice that he is missing all four fingers on his right hand, along with the top joint of his thumb. His left wrist, obviously smashed at some point, is frozen straight out and can’t be bent into a position that would allow easier access to the frets.

At that I moment I was shocked and a bit ashamed. I had been so quick to judge this guy on the basis of his appearance and behaviour, that I had nearly missed the opportunity to connect with someone who was truly passionate about making music. When I saw past the appearances, I came face-to-face with a man who had figured out how to overcome the obstacles in his life and was trying to express himself in a creative way through music. He was, in fact, just like me.

This little vignette replays in my mind from time to time. It is a not-so-gentle reminder to not be so quick to judge others. It also reminds me that I live a relatively privileged life, with many comforts and opportunities that are not available to everyone. It also shows me that passion and commitment can take you places many would think to be unachievable. Musicians come in all shapes and sizes, and perhaps with enough commitment and practice, some day I will play as well as this strange man on the bus.

http://newhorizonsbandtoronto.ca/index.html