3.2 24

Lets turn our prayers

Into outrageous dares

And mark our page

In a future age

I miss my friend Pete so much.

Pete passed away 15 years ago today. It didn’t hit me right off this morning, but I was off-kilter all day. Around mid-afternoon, I was reminded by a woman he loved dearly that this was the anniversary of his death. After that, my thoughts and feelings found the deep well of memories they needed to focus on. And I started to feel better.

(I’ve written about Pete before, and I’m trying not to repeat myself. Those thoughts can be found here if you’d like to read them.)

I had a tough time picking out a song to write about tonight. Or rather, I had a tough time picking out a song to write about tonight that felt right. Until I realized I needed to wrap this thing I do into what I’m feeling about Pete.

Pete was an incredibly thoughtful man. He lived his days in the present while carrying a powerful appreciation of the past and keeping a keen eye on the future. He knew that the choices we made would become history while also impacting the days yet to come.

To this day, I can’t drive through Stowe, VT, without getting annoyed about some of the stories Pete would assign me at The Stowe Reporter. But they were stories that made me a better reporter, more detail-oriented, more thoughtful. Little did I know that 22 years later, they’d make me a better 3rd grade teacher. I doubt Pete did either. But then again, he also worked with students. Maybe he saw something in me that I didn’t.

Wouldn’t surprise me.

Pete also wasn’t afraid of taking chances. I remember one story I was assigned at the behest of someone outside our reporting team. It was some high-minded garbage meant to impress someone or other.

“What the hell do I do with this?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” Pete said. “I don’t know what he’s talking about, and neither does he. Go around town. Talk to people. Find the common thread. Write about it. He’ll think it’s brilliant, and he’ll think he’s brilliant.”

“What about me? Do I get to be brilliant?”

“Buddy,” Pete said, putting a gentle hand on my shoulder, “you get a paycheck.”

So I went out, found the common thread, and wrote a fairly decent story about something I cared nothing about.

And as a thank you, Pete bought me lunch at the local Chinese place.

What does all of this have to do with In a Future Age, the closing track off Wilco’s 1999 album, Summerteeth? Well, it connects, but I don’t know that I want to say more than that. I’d rather just write about Pete, let you listen to the song, and see what you can figure out. I’m willing to take a chance on you figuring it out.

Find that common thread.