Tuesday, January 24, 2006

Great Lake Swimmers

A few months before my daughter Piper was born I started having a hard time falling asleep. I'd lay in bed and listen to the stillness of the night. It's at those times that the mind starts to wander and for some reason I couldn't stop thinking about death. I would imagine how tough it must be to be told that you only have a certain amount of time left to live. I would think how there are no guarantees with life - somebody drives through a Stop sign and hits your car; a heart attack strikes you while you're playing recreational softball; a delusional madman hops a wall, enters the club where you are watching a band and opens fire. So many random ways to die other than old age. I guess that's why you should live every day to it's fullest because the next day could be your last. While the thought of that saddened me, I'm the type of person who doesn't live to leave loose ends so, in a way, I kind of would like to know when I am going to die so that I could have a chance to say goodbye, to make ammends, to try to fit in everything that I always wanted to try but put off.

These thoughts can be consuming and in the months leading up to Piper's birth, they'd keep me up until 2 or 3 am. I felt like no matter how hard I closed my eyelids, they just didn't want to stay closed. The only way I could think to cure myself of this mild form of insomnia (or, major case of "thinking too much") was to listen to some music to distract the thoughts I was having. I had the Great Lake Swimmers debut from Misra Records that I had been meaning to check out and decided that maybe I'd give it a spin as I lay in bed.

It did the trick.

Quiet and slow, Great Lake Swimmers inhabit the same world as Nick Drake and The Red House Painters. Tony Dekkar sang me to sleep each night - I barely made it past the second or third song and I was thankful for that.

Tonight I dedicate this song to a good friend that has stood by my side for many years. Layne, may all of your dreams be peaceful and happy. I'll miss you, friend.

MP3: Moving Pictures, Silent Films


Lizzy said...

i dig this post, chip!