The last day of...
The thought of putting it down, of putting the bass down—my bass—after all of these years is something I have been reflecting upon more and more recently. I will stop playing at some point, we all do, but the question is: what would picking a date to stop playing mean?
When I was in grade school I had a friend, Lori. We, along with a few others, had a group that hung out together at school. On the last day of school I was standing with her before she got on the school bus that took her home. It would be the last time we would see each other and we knew this in some way, but not completely, how could we? I didn’t really understand this but she did.
Just before she got on the bus she turned and hugged me. I still remember the feeling of her hugging me, and me her, the feeling that something was happening beyond the day-to-day joking, and playing, and hanging-out, that this “time” was a memory and our little group was becoming a collection of photographs. She knew this was the last time, she knew that whatever was next in life would happen with our group as a memory. As we hugged, she began to tear-up. I could feel it. The emotional shift in me and the feeling of that moment lifted it out of that day and as such it is the only thing I remember about the last day of grade 8. Then she let me go, turned and got on the bus.
I lived down the street from the school; I walked home. Her bus drove off. I never saw Lori again.
So the question is: would choosing a last day to perform as a bass player focus the experience of being a bass player?