Last week when I put my frenetic day-to-day affairs on hold to decorate the house for Christmas my amused wife stopped in her tracks, cast a broad smile and said, “Johnnie, you are just like a kid.”
That caused me to pause as well. She was right. Christmas is like that. It is a time when all life's worries are magically pushed away by the momentum of an indescribable and indomitable spirit of all that is truly good.
For a middle-aged man, dominated by trials of career, home and family, it is like going back to those wonder years when youth was overcome by exhilarating moments of discovery and awareness, like the sense of teen bravura, independence, love, and perhaps best of all, rock and roll; those times of sheer joy when just dancing away the troubles of the world come so naturally and easy. Yes, I will certainly dance at Christmas.
It was doubly wondrous last week to watch the Concert for Sandy Relief, with Bruce Springsteen, The Who and the Rolling Stones, rocking it up in the holiday season with a singleness of purpose to make the world a better place. To watch Mick Jagger, closing in on 70, dancing demonically to Jumpin' Jack Flash, was a defining moment for anyone caught in the trap of thinking he or she is too old to be young again.
It swung me back to a late Ottawa summer day in 1974 when I was 17. My girlfriend had just come home from summer camp and she dumped me. Life needed a joyful jolt of an exhilarating moment. Christmas was too far away but there was always rock and roll. And there was also my friend Dave Seal.
I was a fanatical fan of The Who. He was fervently devoted to the Rolling Stones. We always argued passionately which band was better. But on that day it didn't matter. Only rock and roll counted. When I saw Dave that day and told him of my heartbreak, he listened intently. He then only smiled and said, “Johnnie, you've got soul.” Dave then slapped on a Rolling Stones' bootleg and Jumpin' Jack Flash exploded from the stereo. It was time to dance. It was also a moment to hold forever: a friendship cemented by rock and roll, empathy and love.
Dave passed away in Ottawa on Dec. 15. A few weeks ago another Ottawa friend told me Dave was terminally ill with cancer. Circumstances at home and the rapid progression of Dave's illness prevented me from talking to him or flying out to Ottawa. But I did talk to Dave's wife Karen. She said Dave had been “amazing” about how he accepted with grace and courage the final chapter of his life. Another Ottawa friend added that Dave, even in his final days, was still open for those special moments - in bed and wrapped with a Rolling Stones blanket.
All of this tells another story. Dave had been placed in a position to spend his final days on his own terms, surrounded by the love and understanding of his family. The holiday season was also there. And he had rock and roll. I can only believe that when the time came there was an even bigger moment as the gates of heaven opened wide. Of course there was glorious rock and rock music. And there is no doubt Dave was dancing.
