1. Soon after I woke up this morning, I remembered that fifteen years ago Molly suffered serious burns to her arms and torso in a camp stove accident. I wanted to text her to let her know that both her accident and her physical and mental healing were on my mind, but I also remembered that in some of the past years, Molly had let her burniversary pass without mention. I wondered if part of her healing involved not making a big deal out of another year having passed. (Side note: I know that the Zinc Plant accident that changed my life happened in July of 1973, but I can no longer tell you the exact date. I would have to look it up.)
But, then, this afternoon, Molly sent out a group text to family members. She let us know two things: she got burned fifteen years ago today and, today, Olivia learned how to ride a bike.
I privately texted Molly.
2. Starting about 6 a.m., I watched the stunning finals match at Wimbledon between Serena Williams and Simona Halep. Normally, when using the word "stunning" about a tennis match featuring Serena Williams, it's Williams who does the stunning with her power, precision, and dominance. This morning, however, Simona Halep played the stunning tennis. She shredded Serena Williams with speed, quickness, superb defense (it seemed like she returned every one of Serena's shots), and accuracy. As the match progressed, a shadow of doubt crossed Serena's face, as if she didn't know if she could manufacture any shots that would get by Halep. Serena over hit some shots. She hit several returns into the net. These were uneasy shots, even tentative. Serena candidly and calmly stated in her post-match comments that Halep had outplayed her and Halep's supremacy on this day made Williams feel like a deer in the headlights.
Yes, I would have enjoyed a closer, longer match, but Simona Halep's nearly flawless performance was jaw dropping, scintillating, unexpected, and a great pleasure.
3. Knowing that today's temperatures were going to rise into at least the mid-80s, I decided against going to the Wallace Blues Festival.
Instead, after the tennis match, I watched a string of documentaries.
Recently, I've been exploring the cottage industry of low budget unauthorized documentaries featuring multiple interviews about bands and musicians; some of these documentaries include quite a bit of the artists' music and sometimes not. First, I watched Led Zeppelin: Origin of a Species. I enjoyed learning about the history of each band members, whom they had played for before forming Led Zeppelin, how their musical styles evolved, and how they found each other. Especially enjoyable, then, was the way this program explored Led Zeppelin's first two albums and how the band blended rock and roll with the blues and traditional folk music, establishing immediately the band's insatiable curiosity and wondrous versatility.
Next, I watched Fleetwood Mac: Unbroken Chain. This documentary made me wish I'd had a stack of old Fleetwood Mac albums on hand so I could listen to recordings of the band when it featured Peter Green. But, this program was all talk and no music. Consequently, I learned quite a bit about these early days of Fleetwood Mac and the difficulties the band suffered, but I'll have to go in search of recordings and listen to them so I can hear for myself support for the high praise the interviewees lavished upon Peter Green.
I began to lose interest in this program when it turned to the revamped Fleetwood Mac that featured Lindsey Buckingham and Stevie Nicks. I would have enjoyed discussion of the music the new Fleetwood Mac made, but -- and I get tired of this -- the documentary focused on the Fleetwood Ma soap opera. I fell asleep.
Later in the afternoon, I returned to a documentary I had watched at the Broadway Metro six years ago, Stories We Tell. It's Sarah Polley's filmed family story. She interviews her brothers and sisters and others connected with her family about her deceased mother and digs into learning the identity of her biological father. Its a study of the elusive nature of truth, of the difficulty of believing there is such a thing as "what really happened", as Polley's interviews reveal that different family members remember things differently, and, so, the stories they tell about the same events vary from each other.
Having just watched Rolling Thunder Revue: A Bob Dylan Story inspired me to return to Stories We Tell. I remembered that both movies dealt with the truth and reality as unstable. As I watched Stories We Tell today, it came back to me that Sarah Polley hired actors to play out scenes from the past and filmed these recreations with an 8 mm camera, giving them the same look as authentic home movies her father had taken decades earlier. These manufactured scenes are not actual; are they real, though? In digging into the past, what can be relied upon? Can we ever really know what happened? Whose stories can be or should be believed?
The other day, up at the Lounge, Cas told me how cool he thought it was that when Tragically Hip played their final concert in Winston, Ontario, in 2016 that the country of Canada nearly came to a stand still. The concert was broadcast on CBC. Prime Minister Justin Trudeau attended the last show. It was epic.
Then Cas told me that, until recently, he'd never really listened to Tragically Hip. I admitted I never ever had. He then recommended that I go to Netflix and watch the documentary of Tragically Hip's final tour.
So, this evening I did. Tragically Hip's over thirty year run as one Canada's most beloved and respected bands came to an end in 2016 because the band's lead singer, Gord Downey, had been diagnosed with terminal brain cancer. After he went through a grueling regimen of treatment, Gord Downey insisted that the band tour Canada one last time. The movie, Long Time Running, documents this final tour.
I seem to be very good at coming to bands late. Now I can add Tragically Hip to my list. I will watch this movie more often. I will listen to a lot more of Tragically Hip. I'm a convert -- a willing and happy convert.
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