This Old Man is Goin' to Town
Woke up this morning and checked my phone, which is never to be recommended. First thing I read on Twitter was a message from Bruce Springsteen expressing his sadness at the death of John Prine. That was it. That was my day. Reading about John Prine, tweeting about John Prine and listening to John Prine. I loved him. I've mentioned him here already, but I really did love him. He was funny and wise and romantic, and a little bit cynical (perhaps rueful is a better word)l but had a glass half full attitude when a lot about his life would've made others go in a different direction. I saw in him all the things I'd like to be. I don't mean his music - I mean his manner. Or what I imagine his manner was. I met him once – I've spoken about it before – and he was everything in those two brief encounters that I would've wished him to be.
Now he's dead. Covid-19, of course. He survived two cancers and a stroke, but a bloody virus attacked him and took him away. It's hard to be upbeat about it. Would he have been? I'd hope so. The final song on his last record is 'When I Get to Heaven', a funny rumination of what's coming next – and he's certainly been open about dying and being around death in the past. But when it's your turn, I imagine it's probably different. So now the world has lost John Prine, and Covid-19 has another statistic.
Another statistic. There's a lot of them at the moment. We're in it now - the days of one or two deaths being announced are gone. Today it was 25 deaths and 365 new cases confirmed. And in total it's 235 deaths and 6,074 cases. And, comparatively speaking, we're meant to doing well. Certainly seems that way compared to our friends in New York or London who are seeing up to 900 deaths a day at the moment. In the UK, Boris Johnson is still in the hospital, still, presumably, in intensive care. If he wasn't, we'd surely know about it by now. He’s fighiting the virus but everyone’s confident he’ll be fine because he’s a battler. That’s what they’re saying. as if the virus gives a damn if you’re a battler or not. Fighting’s got nothing to do with it. It’s Medicine vs Illness and Boris, or anyone else who has it is the battlefield. Simple as that. But what a disaster that is for the leadership over there. The guy who confidently said he'd shaken hands with coronavirus patients and dithered about how to respond to getting the crisis, ending up in intensive care. You wish him the best - of course, you do - but it's indicative of the mess they're in over there. 900 deaths today and a survey revealed that a third of Brits feel the clampdown rules are too oppressive. 900 deaths aren't enough for some people, I guess.
Later today, Bruce Springsteen presented a show - From His Home to Ours - on the internet where he played a few songs and spoke to people about the current situation. It was nice to hear from him, and of course, he's doing all he can, but it was striking that he had nothing to add to anything anyone else has said. 'This is hard, I'm feeling lonely, we're on our own, when all this is over I'm going to do this, that and the other because better days are ahead'. Honestly, spend an hour on Twitter, and you'll find that that's how everyone feels. But what else can he say? What else can he do besides saying he's finding it tough and play a few records? Thanks for nothing, Boss, if I needed that I could do it myself!
But it was nice to hear from him. He's 71 in a few months. John Prine was 73. Nobody's feeling safe. Nobody can afford to.
