FOR MEMORIAL DAY

Today is Memorial Day in the United States of America (a holiday originally called Decoration Day, and set aside to remember those who died in service to the country and those that served in the military).  There was a passage in Bill Flanagan’s book U2 At The End of the World that came to mind yesterday when I was thinking about today, and it had to do with the performances of  ‘Bullet the Blue Sky’ and ‘Running to Stand Still’ during the Zoo TV tour.  Bono played them as a soldier in a war zone.  Specifically, he played them as Jerry Mele, their head of security from 89-97.  I remember watching it and feeling the power of the performance, but then reading that and finding the story behind it, it gave it a whole new aspect to it.  

If you don’t know anything about Jerry, look him up, he was an interesting man. Even if you just read about him in Flanagan’s book, that will give you a glimpse. Sadly, while doing his job for the band during the PopMart tour in Mexico City, Jerry was badly beaten and had to retire.  He passed away last month.  

Rest in Peace Jerry Mele. 

THE TALE OF THE ANGELS

          

This image kind of has a life of its own.  The original is the framed one, which is an etched print I had made for a printmaking class in college in winter/spring 2001.  At the time, I had these angel themed songs going through my head, ‘If God Will Send His Angels’ was a big one, but I was also hearing Robbie Williams’ ‘Angel’ (don’t judge).  This image formed in my mind and when we had an assignment to do two metal plate etchings-one just with tools, one with an acid and a medium to impede it- I decided that this was the chance  to finally make that piece.  For me it turned out, well, alright.  Its not fantastic but its ok.  The feeling is definitely there.  

Now normally with me that would be it.  I got the piece done (wether it be artwork, writing, what have you) and when I’ve gotten it out of me and out in the world (so to speak) then its done and I’m not thinking about it, or trying to figure out how to change it, etc.  I kept thinking about this one.  I would practice drawing the figures over and over in sketchbooks.  

So three years pass and How To Dismantle An Atomic Bomb comes out and they announce the dates for the Vertigo tour.  For once I have some money saved because I’m working at a job that actually paid me more than minimum wage (sadly, it was temporary, but it was one of the best I had.).  I knew I could afford to see them more than once.  I really wanted to make something to give to them in the off chance I would be able to meet one of them outside of the venue.  When I tried to figure out what I wanted to make, this image came to mind yet again, because really, it spoke perfectly how their music has affected me.  

So I started working on a new version.  Its black Canton drawing paper and white Prismacolor pencil (which are an oil based artists colored pencil.  They are fantastic, a little pricey but fantastic.).  I worked on it for months just trying to get it to look perfect, and hoping to give it to one of them at the concert I was going to see that May in 2005 (May 14 in Philadelphia).  My close friend from college Ana was coming down to go with me to the show.  We had seats instead of GA so I thought maybe we’d have a chance?  Yeah, it wasn’t to be, but the show was great, as was the Vertigo Tour, in my humble opinion.  We also had a great time. ‘Yahweh’ and ’40’ live are something special, let me tell you.  

Anyway (boy I use that word a lot) the picture was still in my possession.  It actually lived in my car, hidden behind my front seat where the sun couldn’t fade it, for months.  Then the news came that the boys were coming around again to Philly in the fall, so I got another ticket.  This time it was GA (general admission).  This was the first time I was ever going to a concert by myself, and yeah, I was a little nervous about that.  One downside was that I had to work and then church beforehand so there was no getting in line early, an upside was that I had made some friends in the Zoo (Zootopia fan community part of u2.com.   Other than the ones that I’ve received permission from, I’m only going to refer to them by their usernames.).  One in particular Sectionbgirl97 (or SBG) and I started talking to each other before the show a bit and she said she would save me a spot in line since she was going by herself as well.  There was also Teresa (Miss Recee) and ServoU2 and one of the sweetest people ever, the late Noreen that I met up with when I got there and I brought provisions to.  I figured if I couldn’t get there when the 4 of them did, the least I could do was bring drinks and snacks.  I’m still good friends and in contact with Recee.  

I explain all of this because it goes along with the rest of the story about the picture.  Sectionbgirl and I stuck together, because she was the one with the number for our place in line, and she said she knew where to go to see if the band had gotten to the venue yet.  I thought that was cool so we went.  While we were standing over there she saw another friend she had and her father (unfortunately I don’t remember what her name was, but this was 11 years ago.).  I wound up seeing Joe O’Herlihy drive past and I fangirled a little (because I guess I’m that kind of a fan.  But hey, he’s been their sound guy FOREVER so I was just like IT’S JOE!).  

That’s not where the night got weird though.  And when I say weird, I mean “Did I just step into the twilight zone?” type of weird, because really, things like this don’t usually happen to me.  See, SBG got her name because that was where she was sitting when she got pulled up on stage to dance with Bono when she was at a U2 show.  She’s been to a number of shows and has actually met Bono’s minder during the show and the tour’s usual head carpenter, not to mention the Bono’s cousin, AJ Rankin. Now, I don’t know if he actually remembered her when she walked up to him or if he was just being nice, but he did stop to talk to her.  Then she called both her other friend and the girl’s father as well as me over.  Yup, my anxiety kicked in because I gave a polite hello but I couldn’t talk after that, I just kind of awkwardly stood there with my matted picture in my hand (I didn’t have it framed, but I did have it matted.) SBG’s other friend, bless her, didn’t have my social issues and was much more talkative.  She had an envelope she wanted to give to Bono with info about money a group she was involved with had raised for an African charity. 

 This is where I have to really talk about how wonderful and kind Mr. AJ Rankin is.  When she asked if he could take it back for her, he was a little iffy about it, and he said that she wouldn’t get it back.  She said it was ok, she didn’t want it back.  He’d said something to the effect of that he really shouldn’t, but it was only something small so he would do it.  He then looked over at the silent one of the group (aka me) and saw the picture in my hand.  The following interaction went something like this.

AJ: “That’s beautiful.”

Me:(sounding like a dork) “Thanks, I made it for the band.”

SBG’s friend: “She doesn’t want it back either!”

At that moment I was like ‘OMG what is happening, because I’m actually shaking as I hand it over to him because he said he’d take it back with him too. There was a note attached to the picture, but I never put any email or contact info on it (maybe not the smartest idea, but its not like I’d actually hear back from them anyway if they saw it).  I feel indebted to him now.  

So that’s the story of the angel.  I haven’t tried to go back to the image again.  I don’t know if I’m done with it or not.  Time will tell I guess.  There are always images I go back to that I tinker with, I guess this is one of them.  The meaning behind it is definitely one of the reasons why.  

SOME DAYS ARE BETTER THAN OTHERS

Some days are better than others.  Sometimes some weeks, months, years…well, you get the picture.  This is probably the quickest of these stories/essays that I’ve written.  And the title has more than one meaning. I’ve been trying to put out one of these once a week, usually on a Saturday.  It was good for me to have a set schedule.  It wasn’t so easy this week.

It has been raining nearly non stop for the past two weeks where I live.  When we finally had two non raining days in a row, I was able to get out and mow the lawn that was starting to look like we were trying to grow hay.  So either my headaches were amped up because of the weather or  exerting myself sucks all the energy out of me.  Six to one, half dozen to the other.  In fact, I was out earlier today mowing again (we have 4 acres here). But anyway, that’s life.  I’m not saying any of this to make you feel bad for me.  There are millions upon millions of people in this world who have it worse than I do.  I was just explaining why I was late this week.  

I have to tell you, though, Zooropa has been one of my favorite albums since it came out.  It was one of the first albums I was able to buy right after it came out.  I even remember the record store where I bought it.  It was down the shore in Ocean City, New Jersey (USA) on their boardwalk.  The place was called Tunes on the Dunes and you could find new releases and rare little gems (like when I procured the Desire single.).  Its a shame privately owned places like that aren’t really around anymore.  I miss that place.  

But to get back on topic, I was totally into Zooropa the first time I heard it.  To me, it was almost as if I was Alice and it was my Wonderland and I could go there every time I listened to it.  Almost every song was a filled with these bright or crazy color combinations (the CD and album artwork didn’t hurt in creating that illusion.  Kudos to the graphic designers).  I loved nearly every song (I was a little iffy on Daddy’s Gonna Pay for Your Crashed Car at first) since the first listen.  

And that’s where we get to Some Days are Better Than Others.  The album came out in July 1994, and so I was just shy of turning 14 (2 months away) and when I heard that song I once again thought ‘Yes! They understand what its like to be me!’ because as we all know 13 was never a great age for anyone.  And trust me here, anyone who thinks they have it all figured out when they are a teenager is either lying to themselves are really naive.  Either that or they are one of those super geniuses that invent something when they are like, 11 and make millions of dollars and then can do whatever they want to for the rest of their life, but that almost never happens.  

You try to find the good days within the bad and when you don’t want to get out of bed, kick yourself out and do it anyway.  I have to do this almost every day.  

Some days are better than others.

Thank you

For this blog's 100 views.  It's all because you decided to come back again to read what I posted.  Thank you.

STUCK IN A MOMENT YOU CAN'T GET OUT OF

There is your life before you experience suicide and then after.  And both, emotionally, are radically different.  Beforehand you logically know someone taking their own life is, and you can imagine what it would feel like if you knew someone who did that, but it is all hypothetical.  Even if you’ve known someone who has died, it still isn’t the same. Because that death, whether it was from natural causes or, God forbid, because of a violent act, it wasn’t because of that person’s choice.  

I can still recall the day I found out my best friend was dead.  Out of respect for her family and her memory, I will refer to her only as T (I guess I should disclose first that T was bipolar. I have no idea if this had anything to do with the outcome or not.). T and I met when we both worked in Florida at the same place.  We both had the same quirky sense of humor and had similar interests.  We just got each other.  Even after I got sick and had to move back home, we would text each other or talk on some kind of internet messenger every day. I learned it second hand from a mutual friend of both of ours when she committed suicide.  He’d posted something on social media but it was kinda cryptic, and the fear started to creep through my veins.  I picked up my phone and started texting people, first T, but I wasn’t getting any answers.  So then I started with other people we both knew, including him.  He was the first one who answered.  I remember asking him what was wrong, and knowing that it was about T.  He said it was, and that she was dead.  They’d found her at her home.  That’s still all I know.  I never found out how she’d done it.  I was told there were notes, but I was never told what was in them.  When the news hit me, it felt like my insides went cold, and then I started freaking out.  The tears started falling, and I went to find my mom to tell her.

The days after I got in touch with her aunt (who also lived in Florida) and found out when the funeral would be. My mom and I made arrangements to fly down that morning for it and then fly back that day right after.  But its all the time after that when everything starts to sink in and it really started to affect me.  I mean I was already starting to feel the guilt and pain when I heard it happened, of course I did.  When they played Amazing Grace at the funeral I remember that was when the dams broke and I just started crying after being able to keep my composure most of the day.  Its just, when you have the time after and you know you’re never going to hear from them again. Its that time when you replay everything in your head and you realize that those stages of grief actually exist.

I’ve dealt with death before, more than I care for to be honest, but until T’s death, I’d never really experienced someone taking their life on purpose (drug overdose excluded.  That was less purposeful and more accidental), someone deciding that they just didn’t want to live anymore and that that was it.  The rest were from disease, old age, etc.  I kept thinking to myself that maybe if I had kept my phone on me maybe she could have texted me and wouldn’t have done it, even though I was 2000 miles away.  Maybe I could have texted or called one of our mutual friends and told them to keep an eye on her.  All these questions would constantly flood my brain.

I couldn’t listen to Stuck In A Moment for about two weeks to a month after it happened.  I kept going to listen to it, but my finger would hover over the play button and I couldn’t hit it.  I’d known what the song was about for a while, I think a lot of fans did (for those who don’t, Bono wrote the lyrics about the death of his friend, the lead singer of INXS Michael Hutchence).  I knew it was going to hurt when I listened to it and I wasn’t ready for it, and then when I finally did listen to the song, it was weird because I expected to cry but I didn’t.  I did feel that emptiness of loss and understood all the words that were being sung.  

Three years on, though, the song keeps having more impact on me whenever I listen to it.  More of the lyrics keep meaning more to me. 

There's nothing you can throw at me that I haven't already heard

I'm just trying to find a decent melody

A song that I can sing in my own company

Those opening lines speak to me now more than ever.  Who I am now, what I’ve become, maybe what everything up until now in my life has made me, I’m not quite sure.

I will not forsake, the colours that you bring

But the nights you filled with fireworks

They left you with nothing

I am still enchanted by the light you brought to me

I still listen through your ears, and through your eyes I can see

T could very much be like a rainbow on a stormy day.  And when I say that we just got each other, we really just, well, did.  We could be silly together but we could tell each other anything.  I know I said all of this before, but I feel like I have to mention it again.  She left me changed for the better.

Could I have the argument with T that the person in the song is having with their friend?  I have that conversation with myself almost daily.  I know that she isn’t in the agony she used to be in anymore, she isn’t dealing with the constant change in meds, but I can’t help but wonder if she just held on for a little longer if it could have just gotten better.  

I was unconscious, half asleep

The water is warm till you discover how deep...

I wasn't jumping... for me it was a fall

It's a long way down to nothing at all

I’ve been really low, especially when I was at the point where I was really sick and I could barely get out of bed.  I would think that I would be better off if I was dead.  I never got to the point where I would actually take my life, though.  I don’t know why.  

You've got to get yourself together

You've got stuck in a moment and now you can't get out of it

Don't say that later will be better now

You're stuck in a moment and you can't get out of it

I do sometimes wish she could have heard this song, though.  

People say you can talk someone out of doing it, committing suicide, now I’m not so sure.  When someone has finally made up their mind that they are going to do it, I’m not sure how much talking and counseling is going to help change their mind ultimately.  I hope to God that I am wrong about that.  Maybe that’s just me trying to appease my guilty conscious about not being able to save T. What I do know is that once you have known someone who has killed themselves, it changes your life forever.  You always carry a piece of them with you,but instead of a polished stone or a photograph, it feels more like a shard or shadow.