Atomictumor

MastaG, the car CD guy, chose Is This It? by The Strokes to replace Arcade Fire’s Neon Bible.

A friend was cool enough yesterday to set me up with a copy of it. I had enjoyed what I heard of Arcade Fire’s first CD, but this one just wasn’t clicking with us. We listened to the first three songs entirely on the way to school, and most of the fourth, and it just wasn’t working.

Maybe it was the mixing, but we needed something else.

“Wow G, pulling out the old school, huh?”

“Yep.” He replied. “Was I born when the Strokes came out, Dad?”

I explained that he was about 4 or 5. We had first heard The Strokes, of all times, on Sept. 11th, 2001. We’d had enough of the play by play of disaster on TV, and wanted something lighter. Like all the other channels, I told him, MTV was broadcasting something out of the ordinary due to the shock of the situation. Videos.

The Strokes were one of them. GAC and I dug the music, a revival of New York rock, and got the CD. It was our first “indie”ish record, and really got us into modern music after about 3 or 4 years of classic rocking. MastaG immediately loved it, and two years later his first concert was a Strokes show, with me, his Mom, Nodbob, and KatyK.

As I explained it, it occured to me how much more relevant the Sept. 11th thing is now, in light of the past year. I mentioned that to G, but as I looked over, his jaw was set, and he was determinedly looking away.

I asked if he was OK, and apologized for ruining the mood. He said he was fine, the stoic brat, but he was quiet.

Today was the last day of elementary school. I was mentioning that to the boy all morning, and it hit me again on the way.

No more elementary school for MastaG. No more preschool for Pigpen.

After I dropped G off (he was smiling again by then, The Strokes are good for easing moods), I drove Pigpen. As I patted his leg in the backseat, it occured to me that no matter what happens later, in all the permutations of things that are to come, this is the last time.

I’m never going to make my common drive, dropping of G at the elementary school, and then coming back to drop Pigpen off at the preschool. Never.

They’re moving on to different things. And the drive that BJ and I did for two years in one way or another, 360 times on average, will not be driven again.

In a year of so many lasts, so many profound and huge conclusions, even the little ones take me aback.

This entry was posted on Tuesday, June 5th, 2007 at 8:35 am and is filed under Pain, Love. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.