And The Stars Still Look Very Different — 11 Jan 2018
It’s been two years…
It’s a mercilessly beautiful morning in the Hudson Valley.
Yesterday there were freak thunderstorms, instantaneous downpours, blasts of sunlight, building to a finale of a double rainbow so enormous and omnipresent it made the news in two states.
Now we know why the heavens opened.
As I drove through the Woodstock woods, through stark trees slicing shadows on the asphalt, I passed the house he had rented before building a home here. I wound downhill, looking out at the blinding, bright reflection off the Ashokan Reservoir, thinking that this was the view he took in from that home, high up on the hill.
It feels like David Bowie is everywhere today, in the air and sky, across the planet, in the remembrances posted by people who interacted with him, both throughout their careers and briefly, in this strange little mountain town.
How he helped the local bookseller assemble a display because she was alone in the store, and she never knew who he was until after he’d bought his books and left.
How surreal the experience was watching my daughter at the weekly Friday afternoon African drumming session of her summer camp, looking down my bench to see two other proud parents, in dark glasses and baseball caps, enjoying their daughter’s drumming.
How much Bowie meant to so many of us, especially here in this town of musicians and artists and wonderful freaks, who were inspired by this fearless, ferocious, iconoclast who showed us it was not only okay, but the epitome of cool, to be whomever and whatever your soul called you to be.
Now his music is flooding the ether, reminding us again and again how staggering his contribution was to all of our lives, this man who fell to earth, and who has now gone back home, wherever home is.
The stars will look very different tonight. Rest in peace, David Bowie.