Sorry We’re So Sorry

 

Historic Chinese Theatre - View From the Owners Box

 

Sorry to hit you with this on a Friday. I’m sorry to hit you with it any time, really. It’s that pitiful. It is also that important.

 

The other night I attended a documentary screening. (It was powerful, lovely, and it’s called “Hale County This Morning, This Evening” and I’ll be thinking about it for some time.) Before the feature documentary was shown, a documentary short appeared on the screen. It was all of seven minutes and it left a full theatre silently stunned.

 

A Night at the Garden” is terrifying, heartbreaking, ominous. Unfortunately, it is also real. And I think it should be seen. That’s why I’ve given you the link to its site, where the short can be viewed in its entirety. It is only seven minutes – promise.

 

Like I said, I’m sorry to hit you with this. I’m also sorry we’re so sorry. We are, you know. And I’m afraid that owning it is the only way we’re likely to become better. Dear god – may my hope not be in vain.

Heroes

 

 

I’d been waiting to watch it. My friend Betro was waiting, too, so that we could watch together: the Kate Bush documentary that recently aired on BBC. A buddy had sent a copy from the UK and Betro and I wanted to make it an occasion.

 

When we finally sat down together, our focus on the television screen, neither of us had any idea what to expect. Betro pressed play…

 

Do you have heroes? Do you have people whose talents you admire, if not downright envy? Is there someone in the world you look up to? Someone you don’t actually know, yet you’re grateful for?

 

Kate Bush is one such person for me. And while I have her entire musical catalog in my possession, I can’t say I’ve ever known much about her. Her personal life has never been a topic of conversation in my little world. And I’m not so stalkerish as to wonder where she lives or how she goes about her day-to-day existence. All I’ve cared about is the music. Her songs have provided refuge and entertainment. I’ve listened to her music when I’ve felt alone and when I’ve wanted to dance. I’ve depended on her talents for inspiration and comfort. Again and again, her music has been there for me.

 

When the documentary ended, I covered my face with my hands, to enclose my tears. I finally looked up and saw Betro doing the same. It seemed we were both profoundly affected by the Kate Bush doc. Our ensuing conversation covered not only our feelings about the documentary, but also our personal histories with the music of Kate Bush. We talked about how we perceived her talents and choices. We talked about our own life choices. And fear. How there’s far too much of it. How it cripples.

 

And we talked about how grateful we are that some folks find a way to move through their own fear (if they have it) and produce beauty in this world. About how our tears were joyful. About how nice it was to be able to share our thoughts and feelings together.

 

Heroes sometimes wear uniforms. Sometimes they stand high above the rest of us. More often than not, however, they look just like us. Doing their best to get along in this world with what they’ve got. Make no mistake – they are not without fear. Like us, their thoughts occasionally run to the perceived pain of failure. But unlike many of us, they go ahead and try to make their lives into – something.

 

Thank goodness.