A meditation: on the same story over and over again

In the form of an apologia, this post isn't exactly about a book. It is about stories, however, and I decided that's good enough for me!

When I was very young, I formed a fondness for the country song, "Grandpa, tell me 'bout the good old days." One argument that can be made is that I had very little taste, but I'd rather focus on my age old attraction to nostalgia. When I found out in college that the word "nostalgia" derives from "return" or "homecoming," my attraction made sense -- I feel like I've always been looking for a centered hearth-space, a steady holt and haven. As I got older my nostalgia turned into a tendency (almost tidal) to roll back toward comfortable, long-loved things. I have books that I read almost every year and films I watch annually. I've seen every episode of Law and Order so many times that I could probably take that video game challenge in Ready Player One where the player has to correctly fill in the actor's lines.

If we've been acquainted for anything longer than 7.3 minutes, you probably know that one my longest and best loved things is the band Rush and its singer, Geddy Lee. Today, I pulled my fevered body under a massive comforter I crocheted this summer and turned to the recent Dan Rather interview with Mr. Lee. Hand paused to click the "play" icon, I wondered just what I was doing. After all, I'm pretty Rush-savvy at this point. I've seen several live shows (I would have seen more but my parents seemed to think it wasn't a good idea to even have me until the year Grace Under Pressure came out, so I was kind of young for some events...). I have the DVDs (concert and documentary). I have the albums (vinyl and MP3). I've read the books (almost all of the are terrible). And here I was, ready to listen to the story all over again, knowing full well that it was unlikely that either Dan Rather or Geddy Lee was going to drop any kind of bombshell or add to my Rush knowledge in any way (I confess, said knowledge is nowhere near what it was in high school, when I could pretty much list every song alphabetically, by year, or by length). (Oh, and I still do have hopes that Neil will write an expose someday. Can't blame a gal for hoping.)

Then it occurred to me. I wasn't watching to learn. I was watching to hear the story I already knew.

The world is a mess. Everything is uncertain. Politically, I can't even discuss my own country without feeling more than a little sick/paranoid/living inside The Handmaid's Tale. Environmentally, we're causing the sixth extinction. Economically, we're building fighter planes and failing to replace infrastructure or monitor GMOs or pollutants in our water. In the face of all that, I need something that drapes itself over my endless anxiety list like a well-worn blanket (preferably with silky edges). I fully admit that it is probably silly (and maybe a bit sacrilegious) to elevate a rock band to beacon-of-hope status, but I look up to my band. They're good people and they overcame difficulties I can understand and sometimes I need to hear a story where the good guys win. (It doesn't hurt that I could listen to Geddy read the phone book and still smile). So, cheers to you, Rush -- and thanks for living out the narrative I need to hear again and again.

"Sweet memories
Flashing very quickly by
Reminding me
And giving me a reason why
I know that
My goal is more than a thought
I'll be there
When I teach what I've been taught," - Rush, "Lessons"