The Wee Tadpoles Of Life

A quick snow update:

I went outside to clear a few paths of snow that the 40kph wind gusts last night, had filled in. It was -26 … in the sun. A tad brisk, I thought.

On with today’s thinks that I thunked last night …

-oOo-

It’s not something we thought about when we were wee tadpoles, that the musical icons, the artists, the people who impacted our lives, whose songs moved us and got us through all those hard times, who tend to be a generation older than us, we didn’t think that one day they’ll go and die on us.

As we get older, occasionally accidents, (self-inflicted or otherwise) took some of them away from us, and we mourned, and were perhaps forced to confront our own mortality, our own foibles and addictions, but there was still an aura of indestructability in the air, for us to breathe and take comfort in as we merrily trundled along our chosen Paths.

We weren’t encouraged to think of them dying. (we’re certainly not encouraged to think of ourselves dying, perish the thought!) They were supposed to be immortal, or at least immortalised by their art continuing to be in our collective consciousness after they were gone.

But they weren’t immortal. They faded with time, as the years pile up behind us, as did our memories of why they impacted our lives. And when we heard of their passing, we may have paused a while, smiled a bit whimsically, and said to each other, “Oh, I remember that song,” and along we trundled again.

But now, here, around-about the middle of my sixth decade, it hits harder, some days when I’m feeling melancholy, when one of those figures dies.

Christine McVie … 12th July 1943 – 30th November 2022 … Bon Voyage, and thank you for all the beautiful music.

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11 comments on “The Wee Tadpoles Of Life

  1. But those who are lucky enough to be recorded leave more than the rest of us. Their art gives them immortality of a sort, since they can’t stay.

    Liked by 2 people

  2. Ian Hutson says:

    Like everyone else I’ve had a half-dozen or so moments where I’ve thought ‘Gadzooks, Hutson, this is it – you’re about to be deaded to death’, and it’s a most peculiar feeling indeed. I’m not so worried about the act of my going as I am the worried about the manner of my going. I’d like to slip away quietly in my sleep at the controls of my Gulfstream G650 or something. We none of us get to choose though.

    I remember being at a Meat Loaf concert once and there he was with his lace handkerchief. He got down on all fours while singing as part of his act, but then he seemed to forget that he was down there and looked as though he were crawling around in search of his oxygen tube. I did wonder then for a while whether I was to have been “at the concert where Meat Loaf snuffed it”. Thankfully not, he found his feet again a couple of numbers later…

    Existence and non-existence, in truth we balding monkeys can’t comprehend either. Have another banana.

    Liked by 3 people

  3. A wistful tribute, Widders. Thanks for the recording

    Liked by 1 person

  4. TanGental says:

    Such a star. Managed to see them about ten years ago and what a great evening. Ah me, we all fall off the perch eventually

    Liked by 1 person

  5. I’m a lot older than you, and every time I hear of another star going out, it reminds me how close I am getting to that point… sadder than I can describe.
    and -26… that’s crazy…

    Liked by 2 people

  6. Lee McAulay says:

    Thanks for the link – I’ve not heard much Fleetwood Mac, so that track was a new one for me, and much enjoyed.
    …and:
    Didn’t you wish for snow some time back?

    Like

  7. quiall says:

    It is sad to hear when someone I have admired dies. It is even sadder when I realize a lot of people today don’t know who they were.

    Liked by 2 people

  8. selizabryangmailcom says:

    So well said. It doesn’t matter that they’re complete strangers at all, because they actually feel like family or friends we’ve had forever.

    Liked by 1 person

  9. bone&silver says:

    -26!?!? Inconceivable to me here in Oz!

    I was never a huge Fleetwood Mac fan, although that album was played every day in the restaurant I worked in on Dunk Island 30 years ago… I’m instantly taken back there to the tropics. And I have always wondered who will die first: me or Madonna.

    Liked by 1 person

  10. It does feel odd when our contemporaries (or the icons we grew up with) start to pass away. Like you, I have great memories of Fleetwood Mac. RIP.

    Like

  11. alisendopf says:

    Oh my goodness! I did not know she passed. Thank you for the lovely words and song. I literally grew up listening to Fleetwood Mac, Rumours being released when I was seven years old, that magical year that never seemed to end. I was lucky enough to see Fleetwood Mac in concert when I was about 20 years old. Christine got the loudest and longest ovation of all the people on the stage. She truly was loved.

    Like

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