The Occasionally Worthwhile Ramblings of a Sometimes Outraged Mind

Maybe. Maybe not.

I have written enough in the nearly four years this blog has existed — and as recently as last month — to reveal my admiration of the work and art and music with which Geddy Lee, Alex Lifeson and Neil Peart have gifted and delighted the world during their 30+ year career as the rock band known as Rush. I’ve done so reluctantly, and some might find that surprising, given my usual desire to share the better pleasures in my life with my friends, family and other loved ones (and you, my dear readers, certainly qualify as one or more of those).

That reluctance is an extension of one born many years ago at the beginning of my former career as a radio deejay, when I was just becoming accustomed to being in the company of artists who had achieved any level of fame or recognition. But even then I knew, somehow intuitively, that I could never risk being perceived as — GASP! — “a fan”. At best, it would get in the way of what meeting an artist should achieve, whether it was an interview, in-studio performance or just the pleasure and honor of the meeting itself — hardly professional. At worst, it could be extremely off-putting to the artist. I have never wanted to be the guy who gets an autograph, thanks for my appreciation of their work, and a dismissal. I strive to be the guy they might want to have a beer and an entertaining (hopefully for them as well!) conversation with afterward. For the most part I have accomplished that, though of course those opportunities have diminished greatly in the years since I quit radio.

The same reluctance remains in play for me against the monumentally unlikely possibility that I should ever encounter a member of Rush. I’d like to think that a chance meeting with Geddy might result in an interesting discussion of baseball, or swapping jokes with Alex, or sharing some of my passion for reading and travel with Neil. Knowing that he has never been comfortable having a fuss made over him (to put it mildly!) and having just read his book Ghost Rider, I even wrote a short story inspired by that amazing and heartbreaking account of his travels through despair and North America, in which I portrayed the struggle of a randomly encountered bartender to keep his recognition of one of his personal musical heroes concealed in order to give said hero a moment’s peace over his Macallan. (Maybe one day I’ll share that story here; for now, it lives on another computer.)

My point here is that people who necessarily insulate themselves from excessive adoration are too rarely given genuine opportunities to interact with folks who don’t bloody want something from them, as if their life’s work and innumerable performances to the brink of exhaustion were not enough. Having suffered a stalker at one point during my radio career, I understand the necessity of that insulation all too well. So it would kill a little of my soul if the mere fact I do have an appreciation of their work were to snuff out a chance to make a friend.

Thus it is that I deeply appreciate it every time Neil Peart puts pen to paper — or fingers to keyboard, as the case may be — and shares his fertile mind with us through his writing. His other excellent books, by the way, are The Masked Rider, Roadshow, and the one I have not yet read but have been “saving up” (if you will), Travelling Music. But in a more immediate sense, I am truly enjoying Neil’s vastly entertaining website, neilpeart.net.

And now (”Finally!”, my wife Lester will say), we address the title of this post. In discussing why a previously planned book likely will not be published (and do please read the entire post, as in it he contemplates a plan whereby we writers might actually get paid for what we do), Neil offers the following observation:

“…I have been pleased to discover that there are a few other writers who take a similar approach to mine in their Web postings. Recently I read an article in the New York Times about an emerging trend called Slow Blogging. Said to be inspired by the Slow Food movement in Europe, which was born as a backlash against fast food and to celebrate the joys and rewards of growing and preparing the finest food possible, Slow Blogging (loathsome word, but we seem to be stuck with it) is likewise the antithesis to the rapid-fire, semi-literate, compulsive texting that is so prevalent these days (anyone feeling too optimistic about human nature need only read the comments that follow any online news story — shockingly, appallingly ignorant and vicious!). By definition, Slow Bloggers do not hack out quick-and-dirty opinions, but rather deliberately take their time in observing their subjects, whether a morning walk in the woods or a workplace epiphany, then frame those moments in words as artfully as they can.”

Well, I don’t know from Slow Food in Europe, but that is certainly what I have endeavored to do with this blog, save perhaps the “artfully as they can” part. So you can imagine my delight in finding out that Neil Peart actually has an appreciation for something I do, even if my degree of success is debatable and never mind that the likelihood of his reading anything I’ve written here approximates that of finding a clock in a casino.

You may decide for yourselves whether Neil Peart has called me a “trend setter”. But never have I so enjoyed being called “slow”.

(Of course, should any of the Rush family happen across this, please let The Professor know that Bubba’s Bar ‘n’ Grill has been highly anticipated, that I’m eager to dive into it, and that if he would like to recreate the Gates’ barbecue sauce he enjoys there in the kitchen rather than hunting it down or having it shipped out, my recipe for that is here. Thanks in advance.)