As December 8, 2008 came to a close, it did so with a sigh of remorse as well as relief …
We remembered, with sad reflection and, to a degree, anger, the tragedy that took place at the Dakota twenty-eight years ago; how five bullets fired by a deranged egomaniac ended John Lennon’s life. In talking with readers on both sides of the Atlantic, I heard one recurring reaction: (example from Randy from Calgary) “It wasnt that he died because it could happen to anybody anytime. It shocked me because he was murdered in cold blood.”
Earlier, I’d gotten word that Dennis Yost, leader of the Classics IV and a man whose personality was as great as his talent, died the day before.
Then, I received word that a friend of mine, realtor Kelli Lowman, had died suddenly. She was only 46.
Then, late last night, a very somber Craig Ferguson went center-stage to tell his audience that his mother, Janet Ferguson, had died a week ago today, and that he’d just returned from her funeral in Scotland.
He forsook the normal comedic monologue to pay a moving tribute to her life — and, twice, he choked up. A man who clearly loved both parents (his father died in 2005, and he did the same in Robert Ferguson’s honor), he gave the audience the greatest gift that any talent can impart: sharing of his true self. As he spoke of his father always “getting the news” from his mother, they were now both together (and, here, he paused as his eyes began tearing and he tried to compose himself), and she was (his voice cracked as he started to sob) “breaking the news” to him again.
Immediately — and without looking at the camera — he quickly said “We’ll be back in a minute”. Cut to commercial …
As I write this, December 8 is behind us. Perhaps … just perhaps … this new day’s gonna start out a little better, a little more optimistic.
Now … let’s move on to something brighter:
NKOTB
That means, new kitten on the block. Now, I dunno who loves moggies more: me or my great mate Ron Ryan. But I can tell ya this much: The little guy I’ve got (a bit of a manx, I think; her nub-of-a-tail looks like a spoiler from an old Camaro — but with fur …) is fast, playful — and apparently hates the Lovin’ Spoonful (whenever I play Nashville Cats on the PC, she tears at the speakers!).
Soooooo, I thought (since “Sebastian’s” too common, and “Yanofsky” is a bit odd) to name her after John’s old group, The Mugwumps. But, every time I called for her, my Westie, Brandy, would look up at me like, “WHAT the hell is a MUGWUMP??” Not wanting to lose my reputation among the brood, I renamed her “Autumn”. So far, Brandy hasn’t noticed …
Well, listen … I know it’s a stranger post than usual, but, then, 8 December was a strange day. Later this evening, we’ll get up-to-speed with the rockin’, rollin’ and writin’. It’s just that, at this point, I felt a little like reflectin’.
See ya on the flip side … we WILL rock again!!
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