The title is a lyric from one of my favorite's: John Mellencamp. I always dug the Hoosier Springsteen, and last night as I channel surfed, came across an interview Bob Costas did with him last year, from the Met in NYC where some of Mellencamp's paintings were being shown. Talk about talent!
Last year at the Grammy's, the small town Indiana Catholic spoke out huge against anti-semitism --saying he owed his career to Jews he had met along the way, as did the majority of those now hostile to my peeps. Righteous. And completely self deprecating, too.
Costas could NOT get Mellencamp to admit he was anything more than amazingly lucky. He said plenty of people write better songs, sing better, play guitar better, and are far more handsome.
Costas argued with him -- he had been to Mellencamp concerts and his songs "got me up to dance." Yeah -- so would a lit match to your butt" was his reply.
He is also at peace with being 70 - said it feels silly singing songs like "hurts so good now." They may have made sense in his 20s, but at 70? "What's it mean to me -- I chase my wife around the house with a fly swatter?"
One of my favorite law biz trips involved Mellencamp. My late boss had a Quixotic case against Mercury Marine -- suing them for failing to have a kill switch, which caused our idiot client to fall into the water and get chopped up pretty good by his own boat. The case holds many memories, including an evidentiary hearing in Ft. Myers about Ed's telling me to leave an inspection when defense counsel failed to show -- based on the fact that Indiana didn't follow Daylight Savings Time, and so defense counsel got the time wrong. One of the lawyers, Mike Buckley, died young a few years back.
But my Mellencamp memory was a drive. I had flown into South Bend, and had to drive miles in late afternoon rural Indiana in October. I noticed the previous renter of my Hertz had left a cassette in the player -- it was Mellencamp! So he was with me for hours as I drove those shadowy two lanes in the fading sunlight -- amber waves of grain indeed. I still think about that drive.
So his new song "Longest Days" comes from something his 102 year old grandmother told him as he was dying -- "life is short even in the longest days."
It reminds me of the line D1 loves, and understands now that she has 2 young sons: "The days are long but the years are short." Amen.
Mellencamp said that when he was a small child, he and 4 other kids got surgery for spina bifida. The other 4 died -- Mellencamp survived.
He explained to Costas he NEVER forgets he is the luckiest son of a bitch in the room -- and his "charmed life" proves it to him each day.
He wrote "Jack and Diane" in 10 minutes when he was 25. Costas praised its universality. Melencamp said "It appeals to the lowest common denominator."
So humble. So cool.
Paul and I spoke today, about an upcoming trip he has, and it's "obscene cost." I reminded him, not that he needs reminding, that his best college friend, Frank, and second best law school friend, Alan, are both long dead. Does money matter to them?
Wifey and I are due to leave here around 5, for a stop to see the boys before they go to sleep, and then a pregame at D1 and Jonathan's house, and then dinner at The Palm.
Jonathan turned 32 the other day, and I turn 63 in 12 days -- tonight is our combined birthday dinner.
Yep -- like Mellencamp, I am the luckiest son of a bitch I know -- even luckier since my Mom was not in any way a bitch -- but it's a great term. I guess the Spanish Hijo de Puta is more powerful, but son of a whore always struck me as too harsh -- better a bitch.
I plan to savor this Saturday night in hot, sweaty Miami. As I walked this am, I ran into neighbor Gloria -- who asked what the hell we were doing here -- we both have friends who have decamped North for milder weather.
But the truth is -- no place on earth I would rather be -- even in these long, dog days of Summer.
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