Don’t worry.

Feb 14

A year ago at this time, I was in Duluth, Minnesota, reeling from the unexpected death of our friend Jon Western. I was raised United Methodist, and to the extent I’m anything, I guess I’m that, but I think I was doing whatever my equivalent of sitting shiva is. I rented a little place on Park Point and spent a good bit of time looking at the lake and sitting with my grief.

I’m back here again after a year of deaths, some I guess expected and a lot not. There was Jon, but there was also Morgan, (another) Jon, Jeffrey, Mark, Alan, Art, Nancy. Our friend Erik died in 2020 but his celebration of life was in 2022 due to the pandemic.

I’m 51, and I know that some of this is just what happens. But half of those are my contemporaries and it seems too soon.

Anyway. Like I said, I’m back here and I’m trying to process. For me, a lot of processing stuff is music, and a lot of it is walking. So this morning I went for a walk from my place on one of Duluth’s many wonderful walking paths, and I wanted something familiar. So I put on Frank Turner’s album from a few years ago, Be More Kind.

Ella and I saw Frank open for The Hold Steady in December 2017 (here they are together, there are swears), so we got to hear one or two of the songs from that album early—I mostly remember him doing “Make America Great Again” (which isn’t what you might think it is).

“Don’t Worry” had honestly never made much of an impression on me other than as a pleasant album opener, one I’ve heard dozens (hundreds?) of times. But this time, walking with Lake Superior perhaps 1,000 feet to my left, avoiding slipping on the ice, it resonated.

Don’t worry if you don’t know what to do 
I’ve spent a little time in worried shoes 
I wore them out through walking 
It wasn’t any use 
Don’t worry if you don’t know what to do

Don’t give up if you just can’t get away 
Don’t listen to the bitter things they say 
Put those thoughts behind you 
Tomorrow’s a new day 
Don’t give up if you just can’t get away

And:

Don’t let your heart get hardened into stone 
Or lose yourself in looking at your phone 
So many so-called friends 
And still you feel alone 
You should spend more time 
With the do’s than with the don’ts

Gosh. Yes.

I’m trying on all of this. Trying. But it’s nice to be reminded that it’s okay to sometimes not be able to get away.

My mom pointed out that part of me knowing a lot of people who died is me knowing a lot of people, and that’s definitely true, and it is, absolutely, true and a good thing. But Frank’s right: it’s easy to still feel alone.

We talked with Frank way back in, gosh, late 2013, when he was touring with our pals Koo Koo Kanga Roo:

We’ve all changed a ton, obviously, except that I still wear a lot of Hold Steady shirts. Frank still seems to be kind and generous and thoughtful.

But, to steal from another one of Frank’s songs—this one featured today on a fantastic teaser for Ted Lasso, Season 3, that I saw right when I got back from that walk:

I still believe in the need 
For guitars and drums and desperate poetry 
And I still believe that everyone 
Can find a song for every time they’ve lost 
And every time they’ve won 
So just remember, folks, we’re not just saving lives, we’re saving souls 
And we’re having fun

Somehow I knew that Be More Kind was the record, and “Don’t Worry” the song, for this particular time I’ve lost.

Frank will be at the Fillmore in Minneapolis on April 29.

See you there, even though it’s a LiveNation venue. Go listen to his new record. It’s so good.

One comment

  1. Kathie Mason /

    Bill ~ thank you so much for writing about your friend Jon’s passing – and about the effect his death and that of so many others close to you. This resonates with me – the walking outside to think and feel and search for something to hold onto regarding the someone’s death. And the feeling that it seems too soon. Too soon for their age. Too soon for that person.
    “I’m 51, and I know that some of this is just what happens. But half of those are my contemporaries and it seems too soon.”
    “My mom pointed out that part of me knowing a lot of people who died is me knowing a lot of people, and that’s definitely true, and it is, absolutely, true and a good thing. But Frank’s right: it’s easy to still feel alone.”
    And, as a side note, it was fun to consider the t-shirt messages in the photo of Liam, Ella, you, and Frank. I really smiled when I saw Ella’s Spinal Tap shirt!
    Thanks again for sharing your experience of friends gone too soon
    ~ from Kathie Mason, in Austin, TX, in my ‘70s now, but also just experienced two years of deaths of so many close friends and relatives, “some I guess expected and a lot not”

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