Playing for Time

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Random thoughts while absorbing the morning…

Fall and winter are big-deal sports seasons, mostly, I surmise, to save us from ourselves during The Time of Cold and Dark. My first go-to is always reading, but healthy competition runs a close second… entirely as a voyeur unless I’m playing Scrabble with Kim, or WordsWithFriends with my sisters. My justice-based mindset likes the fact that there are actual rules in sports, agreed upon by all parties and swiftly enforced when violated, with due penalties attached. Life out there in the rough isn’t like that, which troubles the anxious mind. Teamwork is a cool concept, and I play favorites, don’t you? My teams tend to be the good guys, rather than the bad boys of the sport. Competition shouldn’t equate to meanness. But I think that beyond the personalities and skills involved, the key aspect is the time frame. A contest is initiated, fought, won, and declared. Over. Next game, move on! In real life, nothing is ever really over. Highly frustrating to a neurotic, let me just say.

Which somehow brings to mind a social media trend that’s become increasingly obvious this year… memories, clips, photo montages, and tributes to my generation’s musicians. It goes without saying why this is happening, but we may as well acknowledge that they’re leaving us and the progression will continue. I’m loving the retrospectives on The Beatles, The Stones, Freddie Mercury, and the others who helped shape my youth, even knowing why I’m seeing them again on a daily basis. It’s both stunning and deeply comforting to understand that inside this 76-year-old shell beats the heart of the girl who first heard those voices, harmonies, impossible notes, unforgettable beats, and identifies with every part of it. Those memories don’t leave us, because they stay current. They grow with us. In some ways they define us. And so, when the last of the Fab Four have taken their leave, and Mick and the boys are no longer rocking (as far as we know), none of it will change for us. It’s all interwoven, part of our DNA. Thanks to technology, I’ll be over here with Roy Orbison, Tom Petty, Leon Russell, David Crosby, Tina Turner, and a long list of other friends, grateful to still have access. I remember the girl-slash-young mom who “grew up” with most of them, and it’s painful to lose their presence in the world.

It’s all simply part of feeling anything at all. The tragedy would be if we couldn’t feel what matters, so it isn’t really a choice, it’s just life. I choose that.