Time Travel

Monday night our middle daughter and I saw Rush in concert at Mohegan Sun Arena in Connecticut (see my earlier post on this subject). For all the years I have been listening to Rush, I had never seen them in person and was really looking forward to it. I mean really looking forward to it, so much that I might have been setting myself up for disappointment. I shouldn’t have worried.

The concert was largely an exercise in nostalgia, though there were a couple of new songs from their upcoming album, and no little amount of poking fun at themselves and their fans. For some, poking fun at your fans might be dangerous, but Rush has been around long enough, established enough of a relationship with their fans, and gained enough respect (grudging, in some corners, like the Rock ‘n Roll Hall of Fame, for example) that they can not only get away with it, but revel in it, embracing their inner (or not so inner) nerdiness.

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Seventeen Years Later….

It has been a cliché for as long as there have been parents and children and I know I have relied on it too much already. Yet, there are times when the cliché serves the purpose.

I have been using a photo of our middle daughter at the age of seven or eight months as a bookmark in a favorite devotional for years. It always makes me smile, and has often been as much as means of bringing me back to center as anything in that book.

My wife likes to joke that Chelsea had no hair until she was two because I kept rubbing it off, such a perfect little head she had. I referred to her as my “little fuzzyhead” (she probably won’t forgive me for that) and, as she grew older and I developed a fondness for Pink Floyd, as my “crazy diamond.”

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