A couple of months ago, all I knew of Michael Buble was that he had blown the roof off the Letterman show one night with "Feelin' Good," and had made me dizzy in a restaurant once with a record called "Sway." Being unemployed, I couldn't justify buying anything so non-essential as a CD, so I just kept those memories fresh in my mind and looked forward to someday being solvent again.
When my father passed away almost a month ago now, I went into a terrible tailspin, as some of you know. It became frighteningly severe, and I realized I needed to find some way to start climbing back out of it. When I tried to think of things that made me happy, those two songs came to mind -- and it dawned on me that, since I now have highspeed internet, I might be able to find that Letterman clip on YouTube... and I did:
So... you can see how that performance could make a big impact on a person in a deep depression! And I found lots of Michael Buble clips on YouTube, including a fabulous live "Sway," and also an original called "Everything," which must be the happiest little song in the history of ever... and all this wonderful music really began to rescue me.
About a week ago, it occurred to me to wonder whether Michael Buble was touring, so I looked it up, and my gosh, he was going to be here in Dallas on March 2nd! But if I couldn't afford a CD, I sure couldn't afford a concert ticket -- and anyway, what kind of a person was I, to even think of doing something so frivolous when my father had just died?
But on another level, I thought it might be exactly the therapy I needed to survive -- probably more effective and certainly a lot cheaper than antidepressants. So I posted about my interest in going, and Duchess15 pointed me to a $150 seat that, amazingly, I got for $70 ($15 less than face price), even though the show was entirely sold out. Amazing how things happen.
So it took my last dime, but I got the ticket. At first, I was delighted -- and then I began to worry that it had been a terrible, selfish thing to do, and the guilt set in. I actually thought about reselling the ticket, because money is so tight.
On the 1st, I went to the North Texas Irish Festival, where my father and I have always gone every year to hear the music -- especially Scottish singer/songwriter Ed Miller. I kept a seat for my father, and I sang along with the songs as Papa and I always did, and afterward, Ed told me, "Your papa was listening -- I could almost see him beside you." And I hoped so hard that it was true, y'know?
It was very emotional, that hour of songs my father and I had sung together so many times. I walked out of the hall in tears, and when I stepped outside, there was a radio station van with speakers blasting their broadcast -- and the first thing I heard was the ending lines of that sweet Michael Buble song, "Everything:"
You're every song
And I sing along
'Cause you're my everything.
Okay, yes, the artist was coming to town and it made sense that the station would be playing his songs. Just a coincidence. But it sure felt like a sign from my father. A sign that he had been singing along... and maybe also a sign that he understood, and it was okay for me to go see Michael Buble.
So I did go, last night, and oh... oh, it was so right! It was joyful and silly and howling fun, sensual and racy, tender and sweet... the whole night just lifted me up and made me want to live again, y'know?
Here's how it felt: like I'd been trapped in a tiny, cramped little space for years and years, and suddenly I was released, and not only was I free, but I found out Hey, I can FLY!
This is already so long -- I won't try to describe the concert, except for just one thing I have to share. His last encore was "Song For You," that beautiful old Leon Russell song. And here in this huge concert hall packed to the rafters with thousands and thousands of people, Michael Buble walked out to the edge of the stage and sang the last chorus with no microphone. He had to really push his voice, but he did it, and it was such an intimate thing... no electronics, no amplification... just the purity of a human voice falling directly upon a human ear.
I don't know whether the beauty of that can be explained... something about truth and trust... I don't know, maybe you had to be there.
And I'm so glad I was. I might not have been, if not for the kindness and encouragement of some of the good people on this site. Thank you.
When my father passed away almost a month ago now, I went into a terrible tailspin, as some of you know. It became frighteningly severe, and I realized I needed to find some way to start climbing back out of it. When I tried to think of things that made me happy, those two songs came to mind -- and it dawned on me that, since I now have highspeed internet, I might be able to find that Letterman clip on YouTube... and I did:
So... you can see how that performance could make a big impact on a person in a deep depression! And I found lots of Michael Buble clips on YouTube, including a fabulous live "Sway," and also an original called "Everything," which must be the happiest little song in the history of ever... and all this wonderful music really began to rescue me.
About a week ago, it occurred to me to wonder whether Michael Buble was touring, so I looked it up, and my gosh, he was going to be here in Dallas on March 2nd! But if I couldn't afford a CD, I sure couldn't afford a concert ticket -- and anyway, what kind of a person was I, to even think of doing something so frivolous when my father had just died?
But on another level, I thought it might be exactly the therapy I needed to survive -- probably more effective and certainly a lot cheaper than antidepressants. So I posted about my interest in going, and Duchess15 pointed me to a $150 seat that, amazingly, I got for $70 ($15 less than face price), even though the show was entirely sold out. Amazing how things happen.
So it took my last dime, but I got the ticket. At first, I was delighted -- and then I began to worry that it had been a terrible, selfish thing to do, and the guilt set in. I actually thought about reselling the ticket, because money is so tight.
On the 1st, I went to the North Texas Irish Festival, where my father and I have always gone every year to hear the music -- especially Scottish singer/songwriter Ed Miller. I kept a seat for my father, and I sang along with the songs as Papa and I always did, and afterward, Ed told me, "Your papa was listening -- I could almost see him beside you." And I hoped so hard that it was true, y'know?
It was very emotional, that hour of songs my father and I had sung together so many times. I walked out of the hall in tears, and when I stepped outside, there was a radio station van with speakers blasting their broadcast -- and the first thing I heard was the ending lines of that sweet Michael Buble song, "Everything:"
You're every song
And I sing along
'Cause you're my everything.
Okay, yes, the artist was coming to town and it made sense that the station would be playing his songs. Just a coincidence. But it sure felt like a sign from my father. A sign that he had been singing along... and maybe also a sign that he understood, and it was okay for me to go see Michael Buble.
So I did go, last night, and oh... oh, it was so right! It was joyful and silly and howling fun, sensual and racy, tender and sweet... the whole night just lifted me up and made me want to live again, y'know?
Here's how it felt: like I'd been trapped in a tiny, cramped little space for years and years, and suddenly I was released, and not only was I free, but I found out Hey, I can FLY!
This is already so long -- I won't try to describe the concert, except for just one thing I have to share. His last encore was "Song For You," that beautiful old Leon Russell song. And here in this huge concert hall packed to the rafters with thousands and thousands of people, Michael Buble walked out to the edge of the stage and sang the last chorus with no microphone. He had to really push his voice, but he did it, and it was such an intimate thing... no electronics, no amplification... just the purity of a human voice falling directly upon a human ear.
I don't know whether the beauty of that can be explained... something about truth and trust... I don't know, maybe you had to be there.
And I'm so glad I was. I might not have been, if not for the kindness and encouragement of some of the good people on this site. Thank you.
