What Matters Most?

Warning: this edition is largely a paean to Ben Folds.

He and I are about the same age, we grew up in North Carolina, and both of us listened voraciously to AM Radio when we were young. That's where the similarities end.

However, as time goes on, and I continue to create memories by adding emotion to actual facts, I am pretty sure that not only do Folds and I have a great deal in common, we probably hung out. Just as I remember listening to Uncle Tupelo, Wilco, and Son Volt in college even though that clearly didn't happen, I am beginning to believe that Folds and I crossed paths.

One day soon, you may hear me tell you (emphatically and in vivid detail) that Ben Folds and I played two-on-two against Jim Folds and David Folds (Jim and David are not related to Ben) in Chapel Hill in 1982 or thereabouts. When that happens, just nod and smile. Spoiler alert: Ben and I did not win. Or make a basket. Or get a shot off.

But I digress. Folds has a new album out, called What Matters Most. The title track looks back, as many of us are doing, and tries to take stock of what the hell happened:

I could not see the haze back in the day; When we lived inside of it . . .

A familiar feeling, to lack any awareness of those things we're experiencing. I don't mean just the actual haze of some folks' formative years, but the early years of raising children, or being a baby lawyer, or any of the overwhelm. So often we look back and can barely remember it, much less make sense of it . . .

If "haze" doesn't grab you, try "water" . . .

Fifteen years tossed in boxes, Chocked with old bills, phones, pictures and trash, Oh, the dramas and memories attached . . .

The boxes are everywhere. Filled with things that require sorting and tossing. But their weight is the past, not the pounds. And the space they occupy is much more than closets . . .

But in these days of overwhelming change, I just wanna know what I want, bеcause I only seem to know what I don't . . .

One of the reasons I write this newsletter and constantly post pictures of sunsets and dogs and whatnot on Instagram is because of that negativity bias that sits between my ears. Speaking of those kinds of posts, I saw this at the Center for Puppetry Arts in Atlanta last weekend. (Thanks to my daughter for insisting we go there).

I keep going for the phone, to send you a note with the news, and I'm thinking, "Man, you won't believe this" . . .

This line really hit me. I have experienced the feeling numerous times over the past couple of years: there's something I can't wait to share; I know exactly who'd be most excited about it; I pick up my phone; and then I remember . . .

Listen and experience for yourself. And ask yourself the question . . .