Rocket Man

The Old Man, Vati, Pop, Daddy has a rather large sense of theater — sadly, he was stuck with a litter of surly, humorless kindern who were forever and always trying to fit in (and failing).

At the dinner table he would ask us all about our respective days — what happened, what did we do and see. Collectively and individually we responded with ‘nothin’, ‘went to school’ (my, how utterly and fully clarifying!) and ‘every word spoken by me now is an unnecessary and vile stain on silence and the nothingness existing within my dark, tortured soul!’* OK, I fib on that last bit — Pop would have totally loved it molto grande² if any of us four brooding souls came up with something so dramatic even if we hadn’t intended to be all ironic and archly funny.

So, what did Vati do? How did he cope with  our uncooperative bullshit? He had us respond to his question:
 “What kind of a day was it?,
with
 "It was a day like all days, filled with those events that alter and illuminate our times. And YOU were there.”

Yep You Are There was in reruns in the ’60 and we’d watch it con la famiglia. I loved that show and totally enjoyed declaiming the hell out of that intro at the dinner table. The old man could always make me laugh even, and especially, when I didn’t want to.

So, how was my day today?

For absolutely no reason, that I can come up with anyway, Elton John and Bernie Taupin’s tune Rocket Man off Madman Across the Water came into my head. The old internal jukebox had it looped too. MY GOD I loved that song!

Back in the ‘70s my taste in music was heavily influenced by my older sister (Beatles, Stones), my father (who was and still is a huge Dylan fan. He’s also keen on Springsteen and The Nitty Gritty Dirt Band) and my cousin Gary (The Who, Hendrix and more). Elton John was my first, all my own, musical choice He and Taupin were mine, mine, mine ALLLLLLL mine. I was just wild about every last tune on Madman Across the Water, Honky Chateau and more. But then, THEN (queue the heavy ‘a monster’s comin’ musical
intro) that heinous, wildly egregious, saccharine-to-the-point-of-wicked-hurlage piece of perdition “Don’t Go Breakin' My Heart” came along.

I listened to nothing but Long John Baldry, Neil Young, ELP and only the heaviest classical (Wagner and Liszt anyone?), I could find in an attempt to rinse that tune right outta my hair.  Elton and I were SO finished.

And then this morning, like a freshly rediscovered love letter from a first beau, Rocket Man crept into my skull.

She packed my bags last night pre-flight
Zero hour nine a.m.
And I'm gonna be high as a kite by then
I miss the earth so much I miss my wife
It's lonely out in space

Simultaneously, I became floatingly happy and so wistfully sad I that thought I might need to lay down for a bit.

And I think it's gonna be a long long time
Till touch down brings me round again to find
I'm not the man they think I am at home
Oh no no no I'm a rocket man
Rocket man burning out his fuse up here alone

I’ll never hear this outside of my head again. The weight of that, like a sumo wrestler with an extra special glandular problem, felt crushing at 8 AM.

At the same time though, I had to smile. My internal DJ spins it on occasion. I think she deserves a raise.

* courtesy of Mr. Sam Beckett