Family in Florida. Friends in LA. Lazy rivers in Palm Springs. A train ride along the Pacific. A hurricane warning in Los Angeles. Endless bands in Chicago. This was summer.
Wooly Mammoth by Local Natives
Rain and Snow. Hikes and Sunsets. Friends and brothers. Sons and Dads. The Bulls in Chicago and The Boss in St. Paul. Stiff drinks and long division. This was Winter.
“Born to Run” by Bruce Springsteen
My Dad flew across the country to grab a beer with me on St. Patrick’s Day. One of the many perks of him being retired now. It was a quicker trip than he’d usually make to California, but we made the most of it. We ate the tacos, hopped the bars, talked the talk, explored the neighborhoods, poured the saké, watched the movies, clinked the glasses, and got a good look at the Pacific. Think I’ve also logged enough hours listening to my father go on about the never ending, infinite complexities of College Basketball March Madness, that at this point I might actually be able to pass as one of the talking heads on ESPN.
One of the brighter burning highlights came to be when just a day or two before my Dad got here, I learned that Flogging Molly was one of his favorite bands. As luck would have it, they were playing St. Patrick’s Day at the Palladium in Hollywood. I knew if we went it’d mean staying out way too late and drinking way too much, but damn it, life needs some living. So I got us some good seats, and after seeing the pit below and feeling the relief on our backs, I might consider it to be one of the greatest purchases I’ve ever made. One of the opening bands was from Ukraine, and given current events, the people were BEYOND fired up. It was a fun show, and most importantly, Dad got to cross off seeing Flogging Molly on St. Patrick’s day.
My Dad and I talk pretty often, but I’m not exactly sure the last time just the two of us spent this much uninterrupted time together. Maybe our cross country drive when I made the move to California 15 years ago. This little adventure has been a reminder that I should strive to make this happen more often. We had a great time, and I’ve got the photos to prove it. My favorite of which is Dad using chopsticks for only his second time ever for his “raymen” noodles.
Never thought I’d see the day my government said I can’t go outside, but here I am. Never seen anything like it in my lifetime, or my Dad anything like it in his. It’s uncharted waters, and there is risk of drowning.
Alexis and I are lucky ones. We don’t need to leave home to do what we do for a living. That means we can still work through the turbulence, while also doing our part by staying put. Even still, work is thin and getting thinner. Particularly for me.
I think when it gets bad enough, enough people will actually listen. The weather will warm, the spread will slow, and the world’s engine will start again.
By leaps and bounds, the closest to stage I’ve ever been at the Hollywood Bowl. For perspective, there were over 17,000 people behind us. Daughter, Local Natives, and The National. Three bands I’d easily see play on their own, shared the stage to make one of the most memorable nights of my life, and I got to share with some of my best people. All thanks to this guy
Past Lives by Local Natives
Pumkin cannons. Dace floor destruction with Maya and Arthur. Kiss at The Bowl. FaceTimes with the newest Smith. Izakayas with out of towners. Watching a dog we considered not giving back. Showing LA to New York. Disney days. Donuts with Della. Introductory handshakes with Emmett. Green beers in Long Beach. This was fall and winter, or at least the parts I remembered to take a picture of. Really need to get better at that.
Halah by Mazzy Star.
