|Time May Change Me by Helen Green|
I got up this morning to have coffee with Sarah before she left for work at the "crack of stupid", as our friend Ruth Cheesman would say. It's a new routine, begun on the advice of the psychiatrist – Dr. Feldmann – who has been treating me for ADHD. We're experimenting with increasing levels of Vyvanse (an amphetamine – and yes, I do recognize the irony in me needing an "upper" but thanks anyhow) and it seems to finally be having a positive effect on my ability to focus and stick to a task; however, as the good doctor pointed out to me, the medicine is just a tool and the heavy lifting now is left to me to relearn good organizational and goal-oriented skills. So last night I opened up "Google Keep" on my phone and created a long To Do list for the rest of this month. And my first order of business this morning, after seeing Sarah safely off, was to sit down at the computer and create my first new blog post in nearly a year, providing the back story for the January photo in my incredibly successful Connecting with Animals calendar for 2016.
It's no longer morning. And this isn't that post. That post will have to wait.
Ordinarily I would check my emails and social media first thing in the morning just to be sure I wasn't missing anything of "vital importance" before getting on with my day, but I was so determined not to disappear down that particular rabbit hole today that I skipped Facebook and Twitter and only glanced at my email headers as I grabbed my mug of remaining coffee and began to head down the hall to my desk. I would, therefore, have missed all news of the stunning loss the world suffered overnight, but for one small detail: I subscribe to an email notification service called "Celebrity Death Beeper." I had received an email from them at 2:32 this morning and the header (in my phone's tiny window) said only, "A celebrity death? LEGENDARY ARTIS..." Assuming the recently departed would turn out to be someone I knew of only slightly, but with whom Sarah would be much more familiar, I clicked on the email in order to pass along the news to her so she might look into it on her bus ride. And of course, I couldn't have been more wrong. "LEGENDARY ARTIST DAVID BOWIE DIES AT 69" read the full header, my first "WTF" moment of 2016. With all of the notorious internet death hoaxes which seem to crop up nearly daily, I quickly went online for other, credible sources. I was met with an absolute wall of messages and laments on every single social media platform currently existing. And I sat down on the couch, knowing in that moment that my morning's plans had been irreversibly altered.
David Bowie, who seemed virtually immortal to anyone who actually considered the possibility of his death, was gone. Dead of cancer, with which he had apparently waged a battle for 18 months. 18 bloody months. How in the hell had I not known of this? How does anyone of Bowie's celebrity stature manage to keep that kind of thing a secret for 18 months?? He had released a brand-new album – his 25th – just last Friday. His first video, for the song Lazarus, I had already viewed without even the remotest inkling of its now all-too-clearly deliberate message. David Bowie, dying as suddenly (it seemed) as if he had been killed in an accident, a mere two days after his 69th birthday, which had coincided brilliantly with the release of Blackstar, an album giving no indication that the legendary rocker was even slowing down, let alone at death's door.
Dead Dog Records on Bloor West in Toronto) in second-year university. He broke me out of the box I had been in and forever altered the way I approached all music for the rest of my life. I am forever in his debt for this. The second event was when my friend John Rose and I went to see Christiane F. at a rep theatre in Toronto in the very early '80s. The movie itself is devastatingly dark and disturbing and depressing and just generally an uncomfortable thing to watch....except for the footage of the David Bowie concert the main protagonist attends. I don't know if I was desperate for something, anything to relieve the incredible tension and angst of the film, but I do know that the songs of the soundtrack which played throughout the movie had a very positive effect on me and I rushed out to buy the album the next day (if not actually the very same evening). To this day, the song Heroes holds a very special place in my heart.
And the third event? Well, the third event is when I realized that this gender-bending, shock-producing, misfit chameleon could actually sing. I mean really, really sing.
In the early part of the 1980s, I was beginning to discover the joy of the old Jazz performers and one of my favourites was Nina Simone. One day around this time I had left the television on MuchMusic but wasn't paying attention to it when the above video began to play. It took me a few moments to recognize the tune being played and by the time I looked up, the name of the performer was no longer showing on the screen. I sat there mesmerized, listening to this amazing rendition of one of Simone's fabulous songs and trying to figure out how this person could sound so much like David Bowie and yet could clearly not be David Bowie. When the song was coming to an end and the credits came back up on the screen I was dumbfounded. How could this rock star, this androgynous performance artist with the bizarre costumes and gimmick after gimmick up his sleeve, how on earth could he produce a sound like this? In those days, MuchMusic repeated its programming every three hours (as I recall) so I set up the VCR to record this song in its entirety the next time it would show. I think I might even still have that tape, but I'd imagine it be worn so thin from repeated plays that one could likely see right through it. Of course, I also rushed out and bought the Golden Years compilation album within a day or two. To this day, no Bowie recording – and there have been some monumental performances – has come close to replacing Wild is the Wind as my favourite of his entire repertoire.
But while I now took his immense talent very seriously, I never truly became a "fan". I've loved many of his songs – some obscure, some not – but I only own one of all of his studio albums (sadly, it's Let's Dance) and three compilations: Changesonebowie, the aforementioned Golden Years, and the 2-CD set Singles: 1969-1993, the latter of which I only purchased, truth be told, because it contained a bonus third disc containing the video of Peace on Earth/Little Drummer Boy from his appearance on the Bing Crosby Christmas special so many years earlier. So why did his loss hit me so hard? I really can't say, other than that it was so sudden, while he was seemingly still so strong and experimental (his final album one final re-invention); and that he had been such a force in every aspect of the entertainment industry for so long it never really occurred to me (nor, apparently, to many others, judging from social media today) that he might one day simply vanish forever. That is to say, vanish as a living being; it's a certainty that he will never vanish entirely until humans disappear from the universe.
And if you doubt the sincerity or veracity of that last sentence, I will let the final words here be those of Cardinal Gianfranco Ravasi, President of the Pontifical Council for Culture, who tweeted this today:
Ground Control to Major Tom Commencing countdown, engines on Check ignition and may God's love be with you (David Bowie)— Gianfranco Ravasi (@CardRavasi) January 11, 2016