Christmas In Fallujah And No One Gives a Damn

It takes something earth shattering to get me to post anymore. Such just happened.I'm saddened. I awake to learn that Dan Fogelberg is dead. The original rock era did more to change the course of music than any other genre in human history. Proof positive for having lived in special times. Fogleberg was as much a part of that as anyone.

Such takes more than talent. It takes vision.

And balls.

Balls to, as Richard Ouzounian, entertainment reporter for the Star, put it... grab the right moment or spend the rest of one’s life regretting it. Balls to manifest a dream and say in song what no one else can or will say. He was a part of the 64 years that make up my reality. The older one gets the more of one's reality meets mortality. Comes with the program I guess. As Springsteen wrote... you get so sick of the fightin', you lose you fear of the end.


Some find comfort in knowing that, with death comes birth. So, to that crutch, I lean for some support and comfort in my sadness. But who gives a damn?

Birth.

Renewal.

It can come in many forms. Billy Joel, out on tour, takes Cass Dillon with him. I'm a long time Piano Man fan. Another rock of that original rock era and that reality of mine. But I must admit, Dillon is a new one on me. PDG talent I must say too. There's alot of PDG talent out there that I've missed along the way. That too comes with the program of gettin old I guess. But who gives a damn?

I'm constantly amazed at the syncronicities life brings. Someone sent me a link to the Troubled Texan Weblog. Right below the Lindsey Williams vid they wanted me to take a look at was a vid of Cass Dillon's, Christmas in Fallujah And No One Gives A Damn performance with Joel. Being a fan of Joel led me to click the link which led me to Dillon.

I love it when an oldtimer like Joel reaches a hand to an up-and-comer like Dillon. They recognize the talent and potential and mentor just as was done to them by their heroes. Heroes who inspired them to break new ground. New sounds. The sounds of their own personal expressions. A whole new paradigm which spoke to set them apart from all the rest. I love what they did and I hate to see them go.

Yesterday morning, another one fell.

So I'm watching this vid and thinking, man, this guy sure reminds me of Fogelberg. The face, the hair, the style, the voice, the body language. And the song. And, as life's enigmas will have it, while I'm watching Dillon do this song I notice a headline off to the side of the page... a link to Bluedaze and the headline... "Dan Fogelberg died today".

But who gives a damn?

Ouzounian put it best...

The troubador of might-have-been has sung his final song. Dan Fogelberg, the singer-songwriter whose melodies about feelings kept unspoken and loves left unrequited touched the hearts of a generation, died yesterday morning at the age of 56.

A generation. My generation.

Melodies about feelings kept unspoken and loves left unrequited. My feelings. My loves. Our feelings. Our loves.

One troubador dead and another born. Born to say what is left unspoken. In this case, about Christmas in Fallujah. But who gives a damn?