Friday, April 25, 2008

These are Better Days, baby

Yes, that is real caviar is my header (real dirt, too). And, yes, as Myles so intelligently pointed out, the title of this contribution to literary history comes from a Bruce Springsteen song.


We were having one of those evenings here in Knoxville where the weather is just perfect - 70 degrees, slightly cloudy - something out of a Ferrol Sams novel. Janna and I were cooking dinner for a picnic out on the deck - the back door was wide open, the kids and the puppy were running around having fun, and we turned the music on. I pulled out one of my favorite records - Bruce Springsteen Unplugged (only it's not really unplugged, but whatever). Janna was making fun of me singing along, as usual, and I didn't care, as usual. "Red Headed Woman" came on and Janna was offended (Well I don't care how many girls you've dated/But you ain't lived till you've had your tires rotated/By a red headed woman). Then "Better Days" and "Atlantic City," "Darkness on the Edge of Town" and "Man's Job." But I kept switching it back to "Better Days," long a favorite Boss tune, but not my all-time (that distinction belongs to "Thunder Road," my favorite song, period). But for some reason, "Better Days" was resonating with me that night.

It shouldn't have been. These have been some of the Worse Days around here in quite some time. Our business closed, and I've been job hunting for more than a month now. Being home all day, every day has stressed me and Janna out. The kids have been sick off and on a lot. Money is tight.

There was no reason for it, yet I couldn't help connecting that night. I was reminded of a time back in Arkansas when we were in a similar situation and I couldn't get enough of the Counting Crows song "Amy Hit the Atmosphere" - it particular the line "Things are getting worse/But I feel a lot better."

This one says:

Well my soul checked out missing as I sat listening
To the hours and minutes tickin' away
Yeah, just sittin' around waitin' for my life to begin
While it was all just slippin away.
I'm tired of waitin' for tomorrow to come
Or that train to come roarin' round the bend.
I got a new suit of clothes, a pretty red rose
And a woman I can call my friend
These are better days, baby
So although I'm obviously too old to appreciate true art, I still continue to use what art I can find to help me define what's going on around here. And between the mounting pressure of Janna pushing me to start back up blogging, and the visual image of caviar and dirt, I pulled the trigger. Of course, part of it was that it was an excuse to go buy some caviar and crackers and have fun with the Nikon and with Photoshop, but here it is.

And yes, I did eat the leftover caviar...


the hamster said...

you and the boss have both beautifully illustrated why Jesus was a storyteller and not a preacher. thanks for sharing. you are a rich man.