The late and still-great Dan Fogelberg always said it best while conjuring up some bittersweet memory for all of us.
Happy New Year to you all. And 2016: Just move along and drop dead.
This is a tribute to the people we lost in 2016. I’ll start you off with a few musicians and you go ahead and add more.
On January 10, we lost David Bowie. He was 69 and died of cancer.
On January 17, we lost Glenn Frey (67) of the Eagles.
On January 28, we lost Paul Kanter (74) of Jefferson Airplane.
On March 11, we lost Keith Emerson (71) and on December 7 we lost Greg Lake (69) of Emerson, Lake, and Palmer
On April 6, we lost Merle Haggard (79). (I’ll skip my editorial on this song for respect for the dead.)
On April 21, we lost Prince (57).
On November 10, we lost Leonard Cohen (82).
On November 13, we lost Leon Russell (74).
On December 25, we lost George Michael (53).
On December 28, we lost Debbie Reynolds (84), a day after her daughter, General Leia died.
And these are just the musicians, and just the very well-known at that. Many others near and dear to us died as well. Honor them in the comments.
Here’s your Christmas present, Uppityites–something nice to read for a change:
In the two years I was on the trail documenting Hillary Clinton’s bid to become the first female president of the United States, I tried each day to resist falling into the visual malaise of documenting the photo op version of a presidential candidate. I reminded myself to always work to reveal the character of the woman and to scrutinize my shoots for any hint of caricature. My instincts always lead me to explore the reasons, emotions and actions — Hillary Clinton embracing a moment late in the campaign, refusing to leave a Florida rally in the driving rain so she could meet more voters. Talking to her staff, stone-faced and intent, aboard her campaign plane on the day that FBI Director James B. Comey announced that the FBI would reopen its investigation of Clinton’s use of a private email server. Throwing her head back and letting out her patented, wall-rumbling laugh while putting on a Halloween mask. Each day, as she negotiated the line of “electability,” struggling to show her humanity without losing her credibility as a candidate, I witnessed Hillary Clinton earning every line on her endlessly expressive face.
By Percy Bysshe Shelley
I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed.
And on the pedestal these words appear:
“My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!”
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.
Essay question: Why have I posted this?