This is achingly beautiful and obviously deeply personal, so let’s make this about me. I know you want this to be a vibrant community and I want so much to contribute meaningfully to the conversation, but then I read a piece like this and think, “What can I possibly add?”
I came to my writing career through stand up comedy, and my first instinct is always “Yes and…”. If you don’t have anything funny to say, if you’re not trying to top the last joke, why say anything at all?
It’s been a long time since my stand up days, and I now realise that adding a topper to somebody’s joke isn’t the same thing as adding to the conversation, but especially online I still struggle with the notion that I should be actively contributing — if I haven’t got a “Yes and,” then I should sit back until I have something positive to add. I try to fight that, because sometimes it’s enough to just say “Yes.”
Which is a very, very long way of saying: “Yes.” And… “thank you.”
I just loved this so much. I think our emotional connection to music and the added impact of our memories and relationships is an incredible thing. You express this very well. I had also never come across that cover of Take Me Home Country Roads before. I like it a lot, and the video. Thank you.
Beautiful piece of writing! So many touch points to my own life and losses and wonders and connections lost & found. Made me smile & cry. Sunshine On My Shoulders was a favourite of my late mother. Thank you for sharing
My mom died in 2011. She was a jazz musician (vocals, drums). She and a trumpeter had a night together after a gig in Reno and here I am. She stopped pursuing music after I was born. Rock killed the jazz scene anyway. She'd go on to have three more children, and that consumed most of her life. But she sang all the time in the house. She too ended life in a prison of her own making.
Loved your writer origin story too. Trickster turned pro.
In my dad’s final years (he passed in 2020), he seemed happiest while listening to Bing, Rosemary, Mathis on TV or YT but that’s only bc it gave him a reprieve from his own self-imposed gulag. He survived a tumultuous childhood, and time in Vietnam but like many, he never wanted to talk about it. The soft sides I saw of him through music made me realize he wasn’t a total hard ass. He was just a tortured soul doing life the best he could.
Thank you for such a thoughtful, and thought-provoking essay, Cole.
Wow. Another fantastic, poignant time-travelling piece. Thank you for sharing so much of yourself on here.
This is achingly beautiful and obviously deeply personal, so let’s make this about me. I know you want this to be a vibrant community and I want so much to contribute meaningfully to the conversation, but then I read a piece like this and think, “What can I possibly add?”
I came to my writing career through stand up comedy, and my first instinct is always “Yes and…”. If you don’t have anything funny to say, if you’re not trying to top the last joke, why say anything at all?
It’s been a long time since my stand up days, and I now realise that adding a topper to somebody’s joke isn’t the same thing as adding to the conversation, but especially online I still struggle with the notion that I should be actively contributing — if I haven’t got a “Yes and,” then I should sit back until I have something positive to add. I try to fight that, because sometimes it’s enough to just say “Yes.”
Which is a very, very long way of saying: “Yes.” And… “thank you.”
Thank for this, Cole.
AMAZING story, Cole. Wow. I'm floored.
I just loved this so much. I think our emotional connection to music and the added impact of our memories and relationships is an incredible thing. You express this very well. I had also never come across that cover of Take Me Home Country Roads before. I like it a lot, and the video. Thank you.
Beautiful piece of writing! So many touch points to my own life and losses and wonders and connections lost & found. Made me smile & cry. Sunshine On My Shoulders was a favourite of my late mother. Thank you for sharing
This rang parallel bells.
My mom died in 2011. She was a jazz musician (vocals, drums). She and a trumpeter had a night together after a gig in Reno and here I am. She stopped pursuing music after I was born. Rock killed the jazz scene anyway. She'd go on to have three more children, and that consumed most of her life. But she sang all the time in the house. She too ended life in a prison of her own making.
Loved your writer origin story too. Trickster turned pro.
Thank you for this, Cole.
In my dad’s final years (he passed in 2020), he seemed happiest while listening to Bing, Rosemary, Mathis on TV or YT but that’s only bc it gave him a reprieve from his own self-imposed gulag. He survived a tumultuous childhood, and time in Vietnam but like many, he never wanted to talk about it. The soft sides I saw of him through music made me realize he wasn’t a total hard ass. He was just a tortured soul doing life the best he could.
Thank you for such a thoughtful, and thought-provoking essay, Cole.
Winding paths amidst the inherited memories
So beautiful Cole <3