Sidney starts school tomorrow and Bevan and I leave for P-Town on Friday night and after that it'll be September and even though, weather-wise, things won't change very much here in California, the calendar will tell me that it's autumn and that another summer in my life has come and gone.
Funnily enough, whenever the end of a summer draws near I'm reminded of a web log post that musician John Mayer wrote back in 2008. The post is about his tour ending and his back hurting and how truly special it is to be young. Anyway, his web log has since been taken down, but I found the aforementioned post on an external hard drive of mine recently and so I'm gonna share it here.
I'm laying in my London hotel room in one of my least favorite scenarios: the job is done today but the plane takes off tomorrow. The European tour was an absolute blast and I think I speak for the band and crew when I say that all sights are set firmly on the US tour and making it the best ever.
As a 30-year old with an eight-year mainstream professional music career, I couldn't be happier (and more thankful) to still have a gig. All I can think about when I'm on stage these days is how terrible it would feel to have learned how to make the most out of each and every show after the gig was up.
It's a funny time to be alive right now, in that I'm not quite sure we're celebrating like we should. I don't mean the "Hand me your keys, Dan!" celebrating. I mean the very innate act of celebration; human appreciation. Group reveling. A general sense of "This is my tribe and this is our fellowship." Like a concert.
I know I've written along these lines before, but do you know why it matters? Because someday you're going to be old, and things are going to change. Your body is going to turn on you. I already know where the L-5 and L-6 discs in my back are, because they're wearing down a little, and when I ask the doc how we lick this, he says "It is what it is. You're not 18 anymore." I have 3 gray hairs that I insist are "mutant clear hairs" but they're not. They're just gray. And right on time.
Chances are you won't get hit by that proverbial bus people always talk about when they're smoking a Lucky Strike and tipping back on their chair. Odds are also on your side (thank God) that you won't ever get the news from your doctor that you have only months left to live. But you know what he may very well tell you? That you need a new hip. Nobody ever says "live it up because someday you might need a new hip" but it's the truth. They don't say "Be good to one another because in time we'll all know a medical lab technician on a first name basis" but it happens every day.
My point is that whenever that someday comes, when I slide into the MRI scanner and the thing starts spinning up, spitting lasers and screaming into my ears, I may very well say to myself "I wish I had just one more of those summers."
Being a young man is kick-ass. Being a young man who knows that being a young man is kick-ass is what it's really all about. And as a musician, I'm finally learning to distinguish the notes that matter from the ones that don't. I'm also getting better at knowing those notes as a person, too. I'm excited to bring it all on stage, and even more excited to see you all out there.
Thank you for another one of those summers.