It took the recent death of Steely Dan co-founder Walter Becker to remind me how public grief is no longer a slow process.

It’s instant, like fast food; digested incautiously and no longer savoured.

Grief. We put it out there on social media, like what we eat, how we love (or hate), or vote, as an instantaneous response to the feelings welling up inside of us. We Tweet personal thoughts, or post on Instagram or Facebook. Somehow, however, by freely broadcasting our personal beliefs on any or all platforms, everything somehow seems less personal.

Strong reaction to the death of an artist is nothing new. Every generation mourns the loss of the singer/songwriter, or musician, or performer that marked the time and space in our collective lives. Not that long ago we would have heard the news on radio, television, or read about it in the newspaper. Or we would be informed by a friend or acquaintance.

I remember being the one to break the news of John Lennon’s murder to close friends who were greater fans than I. Word travelled swiftly and, yes, there was a public outpouring of communal grief, but nothing anywhere as thick or as prolific as it is in this digital age. Not long ago it was more word of mouth or heart to heart.

The news of Elvis Presley’s death in the ’70s, or that of Kurt Cobain’s 1994 suicide, circulated in similar ways. It was swift, but not instantaneous.

Grief, like anything else, it is quicker now.

Within minutes of reading (on the internet) about Becker’s passing at the age 67, I was pulled in to a heartfelt tribute by his friend, bandmate, and writing partner Donald Fagen. Not much later I was reading memories written out by Rickie Lee Jones. The next morning, I was hearing a stranger’s account to a fellow stranger in an anonymous coffee line as he was tapping out something on his mobile device.

Social media is now how we learn about life’s moments. No longer do we wait for news at the top of the hour or the end of the day. We hear about it, many times over, within minutes or seconds of a public announcement.

It is understandable how news of the deaths of artists like David Bowie or Prince would quickly catch on, but nowadays even lesser-known musicians who were nowhere near as popular, now have lives that are immediately celebrated by fans of the music. The width and depth of social media and the determined efforts by a relatively small fan base made the musicians bigger than they had ever been.

And that’s good, it is respectful. The world is full of performers who never made it “big” — not like Michael Jackson or Whitney Houston big — but they did have fans, supporters, and believers. The beauty of social media is that those who may have felt isolated in their grief could see support from others, like them, who felt the artist was significant. That is good.

It was not always like that. A couple of decades ago I might have noticed a small obituary in the back pages of Rolling Stone paying tribute to a guitarist or drummer who played in such and such a band. Sometimes it was the one-hit wonders where the band was not even ‘big’ and its members were even less. These small articles on the small artists focused on deaths that may have taken place weeks earlier, and this was the first time anybody had really heard about it.

It would not have happened that way these days.

Everybody now pitches in with a few words, or memories shared. The pictures and posts stack up daily like flowers near a tombstone. Just look at your news feed and you will find someone’s impressions of a favorite album, or concert, or a certain event that a certain song reminds a certain person of (the true power of music and its ability to take you back). I’ve done it myself.

Of course I have memories of Steely Dan, and of Becker’s role, but I needn’t bother telling you how I crank up the volume as soon as the opening notes of Reelin’ In the Years comes on the airwaves. Or how many times I’ve popped Aja on the turntable (or CD player) because I couldn’t find anything else in my thousands of albums that fit my mood. Aja always would.

You can read those type of thoughts all over the internet; thoughts of how someone was such a dedicated fan, or how many times they saw the musician live, and all of a sudden it becomes one-upmanship.

It’s quick. It’s too quick.

It eviscerates the pain, and it takes away from the time you might need to reflect, or to deal with the emotions the work, song, or voice conjures up. We need more time to let it settle in.

Let’s let the grieving last a little longer. It’s sad, so sad, when we lose something that once meant so much. And we can commiserate with friends and our internet brethren, but let’s do it respectfully.

The death may have been instant. But our reaction to it need not be.
©2017 j.g. lewis

 

 

yesterday
       today
was
      tomorrow
             I had so much to do
      things I had put off
   consciously or
unconsciously              it mattered not
         I was determined to get them
done
   one (or all of them)
by
   one
done             today
when it was tomorrow
           it seemed easier
           it seemed manageable
           it seemed as if there would
be time
           when today
                        was tomorrow

yet as tomorrow came,
            as it always does
            as yesterday lost hold of
the hours and
its way
and tomorrow just happened
        anyway
it seemed
                                  as if
           time had passed me by
                                  as if a day;
                       today or any day
slipped off the calendar
falling like a rose petal or
            disgraced politician
into the basket of days misspent
or wasted
days which promised more
                     but delivered less
tomorrows do that
they never quite live up to
today
                   and all too often
                           become a yesterday

© 2014 j.g.lewis

We probably don’t need to be reminded,
every day, people in this world, in this life,
are hurting. Even yourself.
You can feel it, some days more than others.
Most times you are able to
get past the doubt and delusion
for a little while. Most times. It comes back.
You know. You don’t need to be reminded,
but you are. Often.
A scrap of paper, a certain date, a song
from a passing car, can easily evoke
feelings of anger, of discontent,
of a pain greater than discomfort. It’s there,
in the pit of your being. Cracks flow
deep beyond the surface. It is ugly,
and unwanted. A true hurt. A scar slices deep
into the marrow of your existence.
Fractures and faults. You know hurting,
or inching your way through the pain,
can make you stronger. You are not sure
how. Or when.
You do not know why. You know it hurts,
and you hate to be reminded.
How strong do you need to be?
How do you find empathy?
How is it you can see
circumstances have changed over the years,
but not the cause of the pain.
All that remains is the hurt.
©2017 j.g. lewis

I light a candle to illuminate
thoughts this world holds. Some
I cannot understand,
others simply trying to land
but hover instead. And this song
keeps playing in my head.

I can’t find my way home.

I feel there will be no peace,
not now, not among this culture
of shame and blame.
Not when you question others,
but refuse to question yourself.
Still I light a candle.

I can’t find my way home.

Just beyond the candlelight, I
watch days slip into night, amidst
a maelstrom of discontent,
you never know what is meant.
Look over your shoulder. Look
further through your past.

I can’t find my way home.

Fistfuls of violence, mouthfuls
of reality escape. Thoughts which
should not be free, peace
should not be a luxury. I strike
a match to light up a candle,
to shine a light for hope.

I can’t find my way home.

©2017 j.g. lewis

At Donald Trump’s insistence that the US is being treated unfairly under the North American Free Trade Arrangement, negotiations will reopen today on the terms and conditions settled more than 20 years ago.

When the concept of the North American Free Trade was introduced in 1990, it raised questions, concerns, and anger, in Canada. This country was still trying to deal with the trade agreement reached with the United States in 1987.

I, then, was vocal about the proposed deal. To add Mexico to what seemed to be an already imbalanced arrangement did not make economic sense. This column was the first of many I wrote in my newspaper days.

Since then, both Canada and the U.S. have felt the effects of the deal. Mexico’s cheap labour was a draw for many manufacturing plants. The auto industry alone, especially in the US, took a major hit.

Indeed, there have been changes over the past few decades, and there are issues within the agreement that could be updated, and segments of the economy that could benefit from new language.

Trump says NAFTA will be renegotiated or “torn up” because it is not fair to the United States (which currently enjoys a $16 billion trade surplus with Canada). He says he has studied the document, and he will get the best deal possible for America.

I, as one opposed to the initial deal, have no problem seeing the terms renegotiated.

The problem I have is dealing with the current US administration. Trump’s interpretation of what is, and what is not, fair needs to be questioned, especially after hearing his statements about the civil unrest last weekend, and his definition of right and wrong.

From 1990. . .

   Are we short of piñatas?
   Are Canadian yuppies dissatisfied with the present stock of Mexican beer?
   It is difficult to perceive a shortage of either commodity, and possibly for that reason, even more difficult to comprehend any reason to enter into a trade deal with Mexico.
   Granted the deal is via the United States and, in the shadow of Operation Desert Storm, the Canadian government has overwhelmingly expressed the willingness to latch onto the britches of the Bush administration.
   Yet why are we so willing to participate in this trilateral deal?
   The benefits of the late ’80s U.S. – Canada Free Trade Agreement are still not clear.
  We are in the midst of what has been called the first made-in-Canada recession. Our economic policy partially dictated this slump. But it is interesting to note the recession comes not long after the ink dried on the U.S. deal. The free trade agreement shot holes through the shield that protected Canada’s business environment,
   Companies have closed up shop claiming they cant compete with our southern neighbors in a no-holds-barred trading match. Business closings have fueled unemployment which in turn fed inflation resulting in retrenchment, and then. . . recession.
   The tri-country trade deal can only further this effect.
  Political pundits spread the news of this glorious market of over 300 million consumers which will be created by the three-party transaction. But let’s face it, in this economy few Canadian companies have the liquidity — let alone the manpower — to compete with other partners to the deal.
   After all, we are not competing on a level playing field.
   As much as we have cared to, the trade deal with the U.S. has been accepted. We are already partners to a contract with a country that pays less regard to its quality of life than we do.
   So why add another country with even less regard for its land and its people?
  Historically, Canadian government’s have gone to great lengths to protect the social and economic fabric of the nation. Our elected officials provided virtually unlimited access to healthcare and through legislation protected the countriy’s business from the competition of the global market. We had tariffs and duties and a host of programs that offered buoyancy to the economy. We continued to supplement the agricultural sector so our products and the producers could survive.
   These programs were supported by our tax dollars and although heavily taxed, our demands for higher wages were met. Canada enjoys a high-wage scale that is necessary to support our tax base.
   The root of the fierce argument against the trade deal is wages. Canada is fortunate to be a top-wage nation. The U.S. could be considered the middle-ground, but as we go south the wage scale drops right off.
  Canadian manufacturers fear heavy competition from companies producing goods in Mexico, and that fear is founded. Labour costs — indeed a big cost of doing business — are more than dramatically reduced for competitors in the south.
  It is accepted the expanded market created by the merge would feature over 300 million consumers. But based on his or her average wage, is the average consumer from poverty-stricken Mexico even able to afford the goods produced by trading partners to the far north?