I Love… ...that when Susie was pregnant with the entity who now goes by the name Sammy, she instantaneously rejected my suggestion that we name him Kanye. Kanye Tweedy. Not even a second lapsed. Didn't even check to see if I was kidding. No laugh. Just NO. I was kidding btw. I think.
ok crying. today is playlist curation day for my mom's husband's memorial service this wknd and I've held it together across a sea of Dolly, Glenn Campbell, Johnny Cash ET CET E R A ; then I click on StarshipCaszh and I'm out.
Why was the fourth name left of the plaque? Did those honoring the memory of the three blame the fourth for the accident? How would the parents of the fourth have felt knowing there was a memorial that left out their child ? Unbearable grief piled upon unbearable grief…. a loss intensified by exclusion .
My heart breaks for the fourth and their family. Divided by death? Excluded by design?
I think it was the writer George Eliot who said along the lines of : The dead only really die when they're forgotten. Recorded music unintentionally gives a degree of immortality which is in itself a strangely beautiful thing.
When I worked in restaurants I had a lot of elderly customers. They would develop rituals and come in on the same days and times each week without fail. On occasion there would be lapses and I would always worry when they didn’t come in. Sometimes it was due to sickness, injury, or unfortunately, their passing. Eventually, I started getting the obituaries emailed to me daily so I could know when one of my customers had passed away. Reading then each morning, I often found myself being drawn to certain ones daily…I’m still not sure why. I would read their life story, summarized into a few paragraphs of events and relatives and feel connected in a way I can’t explain. Ultimately, It’s comforting to know that even in death, it is possible for your existence to touch a stranger.
The things you share often inspire me to share back. I hope you don’t mind. I used to work for an estate sale company, setting up sales. It’s a very intimate thing, going through someone’s belongings. Standing with a garbage bag next to you, picking apart the contents of a woman’s top dresser drawer or a man’s desk, deciding what gets passed on to a new owner and what goes into the bag. It’s the most personal of items that end up in the bag - the little notes, funeral cards, clippings. I appreciated the weight of the position I was in, and I tried to honor the person and each little object as I worked my way through the house, sending their life off into the universe. Others I worked with saw it all as junk, as work, as nuisance. One of the sadder and more memorable objects that went into the bag was a tin containing the ashes of the beloved dog of a couple who died tragically, leaving no family. Nothing to do but feel the love and let it go.
I think there’s something particularly powerful in taking time to honor the loss of those we never knew. There is no family tie to bind, so it is a simple sense of shared humanity. “You mattered.”
Wow. Just, wow. Beautiful and touching. I’m overwhelmed by the tenderness and emotion of this. I have head-to-toe goosebumps. I’m at a true loss for words.
It’s touching that you would seek out that memorial. Whenever I get an email that you’ve made a new post I’m instantly thrown back about 6 years when a dear friend and I went to see Wilco in Prospect Park in Brooklyn. It rained during the show and I put on my disposable poncho and we had a good laugh. My dear friend passed away last December suddenly so it’s a bittersweet memory for me but I still seek it out to feel it. So I get it. I get being grounded even by a sad memory. Thank you so much for sharing your thoughts with us.
Hi Jeff, I thoroughly enjoy your stories. I loved your book “How to Write One Song.” Your creativity is inspiring. I was learning to play the guitar, so I purchased a $200 starter. For my birthday my wife purchased a signed Martin guitar by you. If she had not spend that kind of dough I would have given up.
I can so relate to that comfort that comes from retracing "familiar steps" ( a potential Jeff Tweedy song title) in far away places for a sense of home and grounding of the soul in the here and now. Like seeing Wilco or one Jeff Tweedy in one or another foreign country. Familiar steps in a foreign land...
I’ve been reading newspapers and newspaper columns since I can remember. The first being Bob Burnes“the bench warmer” in the St Louis Globe Democrat. As a kid, I saw him eating lunch at the Bevo Mill. He looked ancient. One by one, the columnists and newspapers disappear. I love this “column” and you have a knack for this, so if the music thing doesn’t work out “subscription columnist” won’t be too bad;)
Today on Rosh Hashana, particularly in the Musaf service, the theme is who will live and who will die. A beautifully apropos posting even if unintended! Happy New Year Tweedys.
Sorry about the initial confusion between Kayne and Conway. My wife corrected my memory and she's always right. 👋 Hi Honey.
ok crying. today is playlist curation day for my mom's husband's memorial service this wknd and I've held it together across a sea of Dolly, Glenn Campbell, Johnny Cash ET CET E R A ; then I click on StarshipCaszh and I'm out.
Why was the fourth name left of the plaque? Did those honoring the memory of the three blame the fourth for the accident? How would the parents of the fourth have felt knowing there was a memorial that left out their child ? Unbearable grief piled upon unbearable grief…. a loss intensified by exclusion .
My heart breaks for the fourth and their family. Divided by death? Excluded by design?
Thanks for keeping their memory alive🌿
I think it was the writer George Eliot who said along the lines of : The dead only really die when they're forgotten. Recorded music unintentionally gives a degree of immortality which is in itself a strangely beautiful thing.
"I even remember the fourth name that had been left off of the plaque." Holy wow, that is such a powerful statement to mull over.
When I worked in restaurants I had a lot of elderly customers. They would develop rituals and come in on the same days and times each week without fail. On occasion there would be lapses and I would always worry when they didn’t come in. Sometimes it was due to sickness, injury, or unfortunately, their passing. Eventually, I started getting the obituaries emailed to me daily so I could know when one of my customers had passed away. Reading then each morning, I often found myself being drawn to certain ones daily…I’m still not sure why. I would read their life story, summarized into a few paragraphs of events and relatives and feel connected in a way I can’t explain. Ultimately, It’s comforting to know that even in death, it is possible for your existence to touch a stranger.
I walk that path a lot, thanks for sharing this ritual with us, I will think of them now, too.
The things you share often inspire me to share back. I hope you don’t mind. I used to work for an estate sale company, setting up sales. It’s a very intimate thing, going through someone’s belongings. Standing with a garbage bag next to you, picking apart the contents of a woman’s top dresser drawer or a man’s desk, deciding what gets passed on to a new owner and what goes into the bag. It’s the most personal of items that end up in the bag - the little notes, funeral cards, clippings. I appreciated the weight of the position I was in, and I tried to honor the person and each little object as I worked my way through the house, sending their life off into the universe. Others I worked with saw it all as junk, as work, as nuisance. One of the sadder and more memorable objects that went into the bag was a tin containing the ashes of the beloved dog of a couple who died tragically, leaving no family. Nothing to do but feel the love and let it go.
I think there’s something particularly powerful in taking time to honor the loss of those we never knew. There is no family tie to bind, so it is a simple sense of shared humanity. “You mattered.”
Wow. Just, wow. Beautiful and touching. I’m overwhelmed by the tenderness and emotion of this. I have head-to-toe goosebumps. I’m at a true loss for words.
Thank you, thank you for sharing.
It’s touching that you would seek out that memorial. Whenever I get an email that you’ve made a new post I’m instantly thrown back about 6 years when a dear friend and I went to see Wilco in Prospect Park in Brooklyn. It rained during the show and I put on my disposable poncho and we had a good laugh. My dear friend passed away last December suddenly so it’s a bittersweet memory for me but I still seek it out to feel it. So I get it. I get being grounded even by a sad memory. Thank you so much for sharing your thoughts with us.
Hi Jeff, I thoroughly enjoy your stories. I loved your book “How to Write One Song.” Your creativity is inspiring. I was learning to play the guitar, so I purchased a $200 starter. For my birthday my wife purchased a signed Martin guitar by you. If she had not spend that kind of dough I would have given up.
You are a beautiful human. Shana Tova!
I can so relate to that comfort that comes from retracing "familiar steps" ( a potential Jeff Tweedy song title) in far away places for a sense of home and grounding of the soul in the here and now. Like seeing Wilco or one Jeff Tweedy in one or another foreign country. Familiar steps in a foreign land...
I’ve been reading newspapers and newspaper columns since I can remember. The first being Bob Burnes“the bench warmer” in the St Louis Globe Democrat. As a kid, I saw him eating lunch at the Bevo Mill. He looked ancient. One by one, the columnists and newspapers disappear. I love this “column” and you have a knack for this, so if the music thing doesn’t work out “subscription columnist” won’t be too bad;)
Today on Rosh Hashana, particularly in the Musaf service, the theme is who will live and who will die. A beautifully apropos posting even if unintended! Happy New Year Tweedys.