Armed with Will and Determination and Grace Too

Guys, I'm gutted. I know - we're all gutted - this past Saturday certainly proved that. One third of Canadians tuned in to see Gord Downie's swan song. Seeing him waiver, but push on was gut wrenching and inspirational. Seeing him break down during Grace Too, was devastating. It was the moment our collective hearts stopped, and shattered. It was so much - it was everything I wanted it to be - and yet it could not possibly ever have been enough... because I'm just not ready to say goodbye. None of us are.

I wrote this several months ago, before we knew CBC would broadcast that last show in Kingston, and just haven't had the heart to post it. Here goes...

The imminent death of Gord Downie weighs heavy on me. As did so many of us, I cried the morning I heard the news. I cried again when I realized I was going to be overseas for the final tour stop in Winnipeg. I guess I'll just have to be happy knowing I caught the Fully Completely tour a couple years ago.

We've lost some great musical icons this year - and while I understand that the losses of David Bowie and Prince are profound, both men having altered the landscape of modern music - neither of their deaths felt as personally devastating for me as the news that Canada would lose the man who tapped into and sang its soul. No other band has created so many memories for me.


- 1993ish -
I don't love the Hip. 100th Meridian has hit the airwaves, and I am deeply entrenched in Seattle grunge - right down to my plaid shirts and Doc Martens. It doesn't help that my parents think they are pretty 'Hip' (haha). I just think they are 'Tragic' (oh boy - sorry, I'm done now).

A year or two later Day for Night comes out, and my best friend has decided 'Scared' is her song with her latest boyfriend. When they break up she plays it so much I am bound to end up either loving or hating it. Luckily I fall in love.


- 1997 -

I've moved to small town Southern Ontario. 'Ahead by a Century' is out and I remember laying on Katherine's bed, her, Laura and me, signing along to it, and feeling like I finally had friends in this new place.


- 1998 -

I've been back to Winnipeg for a visit - and though Ontario has carved out a beautiful place in my heart - I've just had a great time with friends who've known me my whole life. Winnipeg is still home. My brother picks me up at the Pearson International Airport, and as I get in the car I hear the loone's cry - the soundtrack of a youth spent at our family cabin in Nestor Falls - and the first lines humm from the radio "Sundown in the Paris of the Prairies..." and I cry because Gord is singing my home like he loves it as much as I do. In my mind I can see the patchwork quilt that are the prairies from miles in the air, out a plane window... and I say goodbye again.


- 1998 -

"You said you didn't give a fuck about hockey and I never saw someone say that before" and I laughed because I grew up in the hockiest of hockey families (ok, we weren't the Gretzky's or anything, but still). The boys all played and everyone speculated about their chances of making the NHL. None of them ever did. The line from Wheat Kings about walls lined with pictures of our parents' prime-minister has always reminded me of frosty Saturday mornings at the rink. The smell of an arena, and I'm sure I'm not alone in this, is the smell of childhood winters. So that line - the whole idea that you could not give a fuck about hockey - is strangely liberating to me.


- 1999 -

I'm going to Queen's University, living in Kingston, home to the Tragically Hip. A place where sightings of them are rare but not unheard of. I'm working at Blockbuster Video, and have made friends with my coworker John - who grew up in Kingston, practically breathing the Hip. He learned to play guitar because they were his heroes. He dreamed of meeting any of them and finally getting to tell his idols what their music meant to him. So one day he comes into work and tells me the story of it finally happening that morning on his way to work. Rob Baker's parents live down the street from John's house - he walked by at least once a day hoping he might make a sighting. And then, that morning, it finally happened - there he was, sitting on his parents' porch, strumming the chords of Grace Too. John swallowed hard, made his way up the sidewalk, thinking of all the great things he is going to say - he opens his mouth, and out fall the words "Hey man... that's Grace Too." Rob looked up and simply said "Yup.". John stumbled back down the sidewalk thinking to himself 'Hey man, that's Grace Too???? HE FUCKING KNOWS IT IS GRACE TOO... HE FUCKING WROTE THE SONG.' He was devastated. He'd wasted his shot.

I often wonder if he ever got another one.


- 1999 -

I drive to Bobcaygeon for a party one warm summer night - and sometime around 2 or 3 in the morning, I'm sitting by the bonfire, drunk and happy, as I stare up at the sky - and the constellations reveal themselves one star at a time.


- 2003 -

Driving late at night in Tania's car, 'Buella' is her name. On our way to Kenora to pick up her brother Joel. Our favorite mix CD in the player - The 'Blue Album'(because the CD it is burnt onto is... blue.). We play Fiddler's Green over and over and over and over again. It is perfect.

- 2007 -

Sean and I are in India. We are in a small town in the foothills of the Himalayas, McLeod Ganj, where the Dalai Lama and his followers have made their home. We meet Neil, from Scotland, who plays drums in a band. He tells us his band plays a cover of a song by a Canadian band, but he's never heard the original - do we know it? It's called 'New Orleans is Sinking'. Not only do we know it, but I can play it for him right then and there on my iPod. And as the song finishes Neil looks at me and says "That guys voice is fucking awful!" I tell him 'that guy' is a national treasure. He seems skeptical.


- 2014?ish -

Gord Downie plays Folk Fest solo - and as I swing in a hammock, a breeze gently cools my skin, and our national treasure sings to me. After the show is done, and most of the people are gone, I walk through the area behind the stage, just as Gord comes out. "Great show. Your music means the world to me." I tell him. He smiles shyly and says thanks and before carrying on. I feel grateful, especially now, that I got to tell him that. I think of John...

- 2015 -

Sean is at the cabin with some friends. Much to my dismay Sean has never been a Hip fan. They play the Hip and Tom Petty non-stop all weekend - and by the end, much like I did with 'Scared' - he's come around.


- 2016 -

Your tragic loss will be mourned by a nation Gord. You've left us with an anthology of who we are as a collective, and somehow still created beautiful, intimate moments with so many of us.
I just hope that we can meet your passing, armed with will and determination and grace too - just as you taught us.