RIP, Bubba - How That Dismal Day Gracelessly Unfolded Exactly 5y Ago :(

[The God of Balance]

It was January 10, 2020, my late Mother's birthday. She died hours after my birthday ended in R40 (known to many as 2015) following a harrowing 30+ year illness and complicated relationship with me in which many loose ends were left dangling, so it had become a difficult, contemplative date.

 

I was with a once-close friend of mine, a brilliant craftsman I call Guitar Jim. He, a genius at putting broken and neglected guitars back together, was my luthier. Our relationship had become strained by sociopolitical differences - I lean honorable and progressive while Jim was a Medicaid and EBT fraudster who, at the same time, would growl “f**k socialism” every chance he got as he collected welfare while earning good money under the table. Fox Angertainment blared from his TV for 12+ hours a day and he was transmutating from a good dude to a regressing dick with ears.

 

We regularly made trips to the hydroponics store followed by another try in an ongoing quest to find the best burger in town. That day's agenda pointed at the Maple Leaf Diner, not far from Jim's home and the only Canadian restaurant I've ever seen in the USA. Known for audacious, jaw-splitting burgers featured on The Travel Channel, I was quite excited about eating there, for, aside from the burgers, they had Nanaimo bars and an opportunity to fill an old hole in my heart.

 

See, years before, we were on a Calgary + Vancouver jaunt to see Iron Maiden. On Gabriola Island, a superb artist colony island just off the Nanaimo, Vancouver Island BC coast, I lovingly placed my first Nanaimo bars, bought in lovely Uclulet the day before, in the communal fridge of the bed and breakfast where we'd lodged. The next morning, we departed and I forgot them. f**k!!! Eight years later, I still had never tasted that iconic layered goodness so loved by many. On January 10, 2020, that personal tragedy would at long last be put to rest. And, I was dressed for the occasion - Rush shirt and Canada cap.

 

Maple Leaf Diner

 

The Black and Decker warranty repair facility was near the hydroponics shop, so Jim added a “quick swing” by there to deal with a drill issue was added to the itinerary. That turned into me sitting in his truck for almost an hour as he argued with the staff before finally emerging triumphantly with a new replacement drill. I quipped that I'd recently gotten a new drill, but took it back because it was boring. Jim didn't get the joke. Funny - my Dad, a man of much greater perspicacity, found it a hoot.

 

As a bonus, he'd parked next door in the FedEx store loading space, so I got a flurry of justified dirty looks from a parade of shippers as it rained on me through the open window. Next time, leave the keys, dickhead.

 

After that delay, Jim, worried about incoming weather harming his unremarkable Ford F-150, suggested we blow off the Canucks and instead hit a different, nearby burger joint that had left me flat in the past and seemed to be in recent decline after a long, popular run. I, buying lunch as usual, refused; he protested and pouted; I gave in. Might Pappy have Nanaimo bars?

 

Uh. Prolly. Mother. f***ing. Not.

 

Pappy's Uninspiring Sky Genie Ground Cow Meat Sammiches

 

Immediately upon entering I scowled at the curiously harsh Old Testament Bible verses written on the chalkboard below the menu. I much disfavor tent revivals with my burger. Sigh.

 

The old bitch behind the counter at Pappy's Subpar Jebus Burger was hideous and surly, the food was lackluster and, ironically, Jim ended up sending his back due to a complaint about the bun. Such things happened often with him. How disappointing that the loaded Canada-style epic beast of a burger with the marinated tomatoes and onion rings as toppings would not come to pass. And, that Nanaimo bars thing. Sigh.

 

Turned out the weather he was worried about was just a normal shower. Canada experience scrapped for nothing. We returned to Jim's. After burning a phatty, I was checking out some of his vast collection of guitars when it happened.

 

My phone made that funny noise. I made my typical funny noise in response to that funny noise - “*Sigh* NOW what?” and checked my messages. From my Girly:

 

Neil Peart died today :(

 

 

 

I was utterly floored. In profound and increasing distress, I clumsily stammered the bad news of this most dreadful calamity that had just blasted into reality from clean outta nowhere. A bit of dizziness set in as the words of Ghost Rider and a mad medley of Rush songs and drum fills careened through my noggin in one of those nuclear-blast-between-the-ears movie-type moments of hyper-realization. Learned he actually had been departed since the 7th. Dang! I was going about my business for days in a The Professorless world.

 

Poor Carrie. OMG....Planet Olivia! My fellow Rush fans. A most-richly- and hard-earned retirement stolen after all that hard work, heartbreak and grueling path to rebirth. How could I feel that much searing sympathy for strangers? How is this not the worst thing that ever happened?

 

This was the most gutting sudden, unexpected death in my world since my first real girlfriend was killed in a boating accident way the f**k back in 1983, before I'd ever even driven a car. It was a battle to keep from busting out sobbing.

 

Jim, though, was distinctly unmoved, deadpanning a stunning “You'll get over it” and changing the subject to his free replacement drill as I sat there trembling.

 

Holy f***ing shit, what a tool. To be clear, I'm talking about Jim, not the drill. That utterance would end up costing him a lot of business and tens of thousands of dollars.

 

I was now doubly stunned. Not even 20 seconds into that tragedy a close friend actually managed to make it worse! That's not at all what friends are for. He then followed up with, “Who's Neil Purp?” Apparently, he behaved similarly with his old lady, a former Beatles Fan Club president, when John Lennon perished.

 

*FACEPALM* Just.....FACEPALM.

 

Enough of that wantwit - I went home and mourned with my Girly, who, unlike most, has true respect for the giants of prog and metal. The next day at the grocery store, a stocker and I came face to face in the cereal aisle, both clad in Rush shirts. We wordlessly embraced and wept next to the Lucky Charms. T'was not a magically delicious time, for damn sure.

 

EPILOGUE

Pappy's and the Black and Decker facility are both gone. Maple Leaf Diner remains, as do I and my girlfriend. Jim's stomach, potential landing place for a kick ass Canada burger, is gone, turned to ash in a medical waste incinerator after a nasty bout with cancer. I bet it was the Pappy's burger that done did it. I assume he still has the drill. A dear friend of mine actually had a party to celebrate Jim's cancer due to his dissing of Bubba's passing, then had a wake a year later to bemoan his remission.

 

Mom remains dead, as does Dad, who was killed on his 88^th birthday almost exactly a year before NEP left us. A week of mourning comes to pass every January 7-13 for him and Bubba. Martin Barre is alive and well. I assume Nanaimo remains wonderful. My Girly and I remain together, ready to celebrate our 24^th anniversary next month when we travel to Houston to see Portnoy's triumphant return to Dream Theater.

 

Amid a cluster of surprises, in 2022 I nearly became paralyzed and had to have the back of my entire cervical spine cut off and decompressed due to severe spinal stenosis, plus a 3 level fusion from the front. As a result, I missed Martin Barre's Aqualung 50^th anniversary tour here.

 

 

So, when I somewhat recovered, we drove from Texas to Vancouver Island to see it, front row, in....wait for it...Nanaimo, home of the aforementioned confection! Upon checking into our awesome AirBnB oceanside crib, I was tickled to find our decidedly lovely hosts had put a container of Nanaimo bars in the fridge for us. YOWZA!

 

Finally, after over a decade, I got royally blazed and ate the damn things. They rocked, as did Mr. Barre, who plays a mean flute atop his guitar mastery.

 

On the way home, we stopped at the Alvord Desert in Oregon and, while absolutely tripping balls, listened to the new Porcupine Tree album for the first time, then had a Rush marathon and a toast to Neil Ellwood Peart (and Mom & Dad) under the insane starry sky. It was awe-inspiring, exquisite, and gut-punchingly sad, all at once. Awe and wonder are my favorite sensations. Best The Camera Eye and Vital Signs EVER. My shirt was soaked in tears afterward.

 

 

I don't wanna to live in a world without Neil Peart and Edward Van Halen. Hell, I guess I'm stuck with it, though.

 

Oh yeah - and, f**k Pappy and the horse upon which he rode into this (or any) sombitch.

 

RIP, Bubba. You were much, much, much more than a guy who hits things with sticks and left some huge footprints in honkin' fuckload of sand.

 

Suddenly, you were gone

From all the lives you left your mark upon

--Rush, Afterimage 1984

Edited January 7 by The God of Balance
Fix one typo and one punctuation error