As our country tries to understand one man's evil in Las Vegas, I found good in music. It was music that brought people together on that Nevada night. And it is music that often inspires the good in those unwilling to let negativity prevail.
The Saturday before the tragedy at the Jason Aldean concert, I was standing and stretching in familiar territory. It was my 5th consecutive year lacing up for the Conemaugh Que Classic, marketed as our region's premiere autumn 5K. It has become a family tradition to kickoff the fall season. A talented female singer belted our National Anthem to enthuse hundreds of runners, walkers, and strollers. With the countdown clock ticking away, the song "Thunder" by Imagine Dragons fueled the community fire. A fire-breathing dragon of a Dad was ready to run.
Feeling an extra jolt, I crossed the finish line quicker than my two previous runnings of "The Que". It was no time to bask in fatherhood glory - my wife and 2-year-old were on the course. I walked back to reunite with them and to add some mileage to my morning exercise.
Upon returning home, our youngest - a 6-month-old crawling competitor - was her usual, celebratory self. "Thunder" became our family's anthem for the rest of the weekend and into the next week. Thunder, feel the thunder, Lightning and the thunder was our battle cry. The parents didn't really understand the lyrics. Our oldest thought parts of the song were scary. Our youngest may understand the song, but she is unable to talk. We danced recklessly. The 2-year-old started closing her eyes and hypnotically swaying to our family storm. I guess I am the lightning. My wife and daughters are the thunder. What a sensational storm. I could not imagine a life without this trio.
Days later, I did remember the life I once led as a single man. Driving to work on a foggy morning before the sunrise, "American Girl" blared from my radio. Years ago, in a lodge at UPJ, Tom Petty's voice was drowned out by a joyfully inharmonious group. Take it easy baby, make it last all night poured out in pure college chaos. Dreamers danced around the power of Petty. His music will live on, college town to college town, car radio to car radio.
And then on this past Wednesday night, a mountain of a man with a mountain range of a voice brought music to life at Mill House Cafe in Westmont. Bradford Loomis, a bearded, soulful storyteller, was climbing up and down the Northeast, gig-to-gig. The night before he was in Harlem. He is from Seattle. He just moved to Nashville. He wound up in Johnstown. He is the America that I find fascinating - passionate, free, and adventurous. No show is too small. Each message is important.
Surrounded by neighbors and friends, my wife and I followed Bradford's music from rumbling lows to shocking high notes. We learned about his journey, his beard, his family - his story. It was a one-hour show that I'll play back in my head for much, much longer.
If there is a battle going on between good and evil, I believe music plays along side with the good. It inspires runners to run faster; families to dance and enjoy the moments no one else sees; college kids to hold on to their youth; creative artists to tell their story.
In the face of tragedy or obstacle or uncertainty, find someone or something positive. Music just might be a part of that someone or something. It certainly was for me this autumn.
Tom Petty said it best.
"I will stand my ground. And I won't back down."
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