It's late, or early, depending on your frame of mind. I've just returned from an evening out with my neighbor, Kevin, and I'm listening to the new Coldplay album. Kevin is a writer and an actor, and just recently, a producer. I really enjoy going out with him for drinks, usually to this crummy place called The Greens. It's called The Greens because there is a putt putt course. In the past, when I've been to this place, there have hardly been any putt putters. Tonight, they were out in full force. At one point, I got hit in the back with an errand golf ball. Apparently some putt putter was swinging a little too hard.
I really do love this Coldplay album, Viva La Vida..., I think the band has achieved an new level of greatness. They set out to make an ALBUM, and not a collection of singles. It works. Sure, you can hear their influences throughout the record, but who cares. There are some wonderful emtions here, real power. One song stands out above them al, "Strawberry Swing." The first time I heard it, I was swept up by the chiming guitars and lyrics of optimism and love. One morning while running in Ohio, I was listening to the song while jogging and I had an epiphany about my marathon fundraising. I'm not just running for my darling boy, I'm running for the whole family. I'm running to keep us as a foursome. We are that close.
I just listened to the song and I had to stop writing to go play an imaginary acoustic guitar and sing and cry and cry. A long time ago (though, maybe not that long ago) I stopped professing to be a praying man, yet each time I hear this song, "Strawberry Swing," I cry out to God and the heavens to keep my boy safe, keep my Jacob healthy, keep our family safe and intact. I'm sure everyone reading this has the same feelings about their own families. I hope you do.
Oh how I wonder what Doodle, our cat, must be thinking as she peers in through the living room window. Pleading for me to open the door and let her in for the night, instead she has to watch a crazy may dance in a circle strumming his imaginary guitar across his belly. And she has to witness him squeeze his eyes closed and cry. And she has to watch him sink to one knee and cry. And she has to watch him struggle to stand, not from the beers but from the anguish and the fear... the god damn fear. My life is full of fear and worry. Will it ever end?