And so this week’s moment of happiness despite the news.
There have been quite a few times lately that I’ve begun to think of myself as old. Not “getting” old. But “old”. Already arrived. And yes, I know this will immediately be met with all my friends, students, clients, readers who are older than I am, saying in a unified shout, “You’re just a baby! Wait til you’re 70, 80, 90, 100, dead!” Be that as it may, I still found myself feeling old.
And tired. Well, maybe more worn. I think when the news that COVID was dissipating was followed immediately by the horrendous attack on the Ukraine, I felt like the title of William P. Barr’s newly released book, “One Damn Thing After Another”.
I’ve been fighting bouts of insomnia lately as well, and on Thursday night into Friday, I hit another one. On Friday evening, I was supposed to be going with my daughter Olivia to an Imagine Dragons concert. When I dragged myself out of bed on Friday, all I could think of was canceling. I was so tired. I was so old. I was so worn out.
If you’re not familiar with Imagine Dragons, please make yourself familiar. I heard them for the first time a couple years ago, when I was on retreat on the Oregon coast, where I was working on All Told, my novel that was just released. My rental car didn’t have a CD player, and as I was totally unfamiliar with things like Pandora and Spotify (see? I told you I’m old), I had to play the radio on my daily half-hour trek from Waldport to Newport, to have a coffee break and let my brain cool at Starbucks. The station I listened to seemed to be on a loop, and every day of my two weeks there, I heard this unfamiliar song, and every day, my head tilted toward the radio and I wondered who it was. I finally googled one of the lyrics and found that it was “Whatever It Takes” by Imagine Dragons. Another song, “Thunder”, was always played on my way back to Waldport, and I loved it too, but wouldn’t realize until several weeks later, after I bought the CD Evolve for “Whatever It Takes”, that “Thunder” was Imagine Dragons too. Since then, I’ve bought every CD they’ve made, and once I figured out Spotify after buying a new car that didn’t have a CD player either, I loaded them onto Spotify. They just amaze me. Months ago, when the news came out about the concert here in Milwaukee, I didn’t even wait five minutes before I bought tickets, and I crowed to Olivia that we were going, on a cold night in February, what seemed like a long way away.
But it was now. And it was on a night that was indeed cold, a day after a major snow dump, and I’d had next to no sleep. I was tired. Worn out. Old. What was someone like me doing going to a concert? I needed a cup of hot tea, and maybe some warm milk (both of which I hate), and head to bed by 8:00 (I’m never in bed before 3:00 in the morning).
When I told Olivia I was thinking about canceling, she protested. Loudly. I thought maybe Olivia could take one of her friends, but my tickets were only available on my phone (something I still don’t understand…I’m old), and I didn’t want to hand over my phone for several hours. So eventually, I yawned, drank a pot of coffee and had a Starbucks, and I went. Olivia, when she ran out from her dorm and jumped into my car, said, “I’m so glad it’s finally time!”
Right then, I did not match her enthusiasm.
I thought it was likely unusual that I was 61 years old and my daughter was 21 years old, and we were both going to a concert to see a band we loved. But the first thing I noticed when we found our seats was the incredible age span of the audience. Olivia and I sat together. There were teenagers a row in front of me. There were elementary school kids behind me. Everyone of every age was in that arena.
When Imagine Dragons came out, they did their first song, and then the lead singer, Dan Reynolds, addressed the audience. To paraphrase, he said, “It’s been a really rough couple of days for all of us. Let’s let it go. Let’s leave it at the door. Politics. Illness. War. For the next few hours, let’s let it go and just be here, together.” I was amazed that the sigh released by the audience didn’t blow the roof off the arena.
And then we rocked. We danced in our seats. We sang as loud as we could through our masks. I knew the words. My daughter knew the words. Everyone of every age knew the words.
And that music just lifted me up. Up, up, up. I felt a sense of connection with the band, with my daughter, with everyone in that audience, that I haven’t felt in a long, long time. I knew that in that arena, there were likely a million different beliefs, a million different reasons for believing, a million different patterns for living the life we’re living. But despite those differences, we were all there for the same reason. The love of this music. And because of that same reason, the differences no longer mattered.
I could have hugged the entire world that night. Well, except Putin. Even I can’t go that far. But I arrived at that concert tired and worn out and ready to start calling myself old. I came home, not young, not refreshed and energized, but fully me again. Just me.
And one thing I always am, despite everything, is hopeful.
Thank you, Imagine Dragons. And thank you, Olivia, for insisting that we go.
Pop in a CD, everyone. Open up Spotify. SING.
And yes, that helps. Despite. Anyway.
To hear my favorite Imagine Dragons song, go to: