Even while grieving you are sharing- so glad to see your post. I just reconnected with my freshman college roommate after missing her for 25 years in a timeline divergence. We met in 1988 and that cassette was the college coffee house rotation favorite. So glad to reconnect with this friend and I’m now on tour with no book or music, just my big mouth saying, “find that old friend you think about. They miss you, too.” She is now reading Hiding in Plain Sight - a great reunion gift title - thank you!
So sorry for your sadness. My dad died in 2017 and I still think about him, evoke him, remember his stories nearly every day. It can change from an aching hole in your heart to a wealth of memories that can be used to fill that void at some point. Until then, my heart goes out to you and your family. Travel safely. ❤️
I worked in the "old" music business--before it was corporatized--for nearly 30 years in LA and SF. People like Herb Alpert, the "A" in A&M Records, would put money and effort into developing unknown artists; Bill Graham, concert promoter extraordinaire, presented the music at ticket prices that were affordable to the average person and paired acts that were of different musical styles exposing audiences to artists they might never have heard otherwise -- like booking Miles Davis w/Grateful Dead at the Fillmore West in 1970. Those were great times for live music! Now, it's just about money, money, and more money ...
“The music business is a cruel and shallow money trench, a long plastic hallway where thieves and pimps run free, and good men die like dogs. There's also a negative side."
Perhaps now this song will be like a hug from your wonderful dad whenever you listen to it. Keeping you and your family in my thoughts dear Sarah. As always your writing is beautiful and heart wrenching. 💔
My deepest condolences, Sarah. The picture of Tracy Chapman was taken by my dear friend Matt Mahurin. (He also made the video of “ Fast Car.” I will make sure he sees your essay—he’ll be happy to know how his work connected with your dad and you.
So sorry for your loss and may his memory continue to be a blessing to you and your family. My brother passed away in March after a battle against terminal cancer over about the same timeline as your father. I've lost my father, husband and 3 brothers all to different forms of cancer so my heart breaks for you and all of us who are dealing with loss. May their memories continue to lift us up.
I'm so sorry about your losses. I have lost so many people to cancer over the past three years. I was originally supposed to go to a memorial for my aunt, who just died of cancer, when my dad also died of cancer. While at my mom's I visited my best friend, whose husband died of cancer three years ago. And it goes on and on from there. I'm not that old, I'm in my 40s (so is my best friend) and the number of people we know in our age group with cancer or who've died of cancer since 2020 is enormous.
As my brother Tom and I journeyed through the last 2 years it was sadly obvious how the focus of healthcare is on money and not on care. I will continue to keep you in my thoughts and prayers and I look forward to your book.
I just realized my brother and your Dad were the same age, 1950-2026
I worked in the time you mentioned and sent 57 people to prison on Federal fraud convictions. That was a time when political affiliations had little to do with whether a prosecution took place. I worked Watergate in Miami and voted for Nixon twice. Ah, the good old days. Condolences on your dad, mine died at 47 from lung cancer when I was 26 and serving in the US Navy. I remember him and my mom puffing away with 3 kids in the back as they drove through New England winters. No one in our extended families smoke. He never earned more than $7,000 in his best year, yet he and my stay-home mom owned two modest homes when I was growing up. That United States is gone, swallowed up by the greed of a system which has no regard for common folk.
I remember listening to that song back then, with a friend of mine, who has since passed away. And last night I watched a video of Tracy Chapman singing the song, so for me seeing this article is a strange coincidence.
Thank you for sharing with us even in your grief. This was so beautiful. Last week, Bruce Springsteen played here in LA, and I bought my 27 year old son and his girlfriend tickets because I wanted them to experience him in a live performance. I understand Bruce started the concert with an electric and fiery speech. My son said it was the most amazing night he’s had, that it brought tears to his eyes. During these terrible times, there are moments eternal and perfect. May your own memories sustain you.
I choke up every time I hear her sing "Fast Car." It draws me into the desperation experienced by the two folks whose only choice is to speed away from their circumstances and dream of a better life, held back by the need for father's care. Heartbreaking every time.
I’m not sure what to say other than I’m so very sorry about the passing of your dad. In your deep pain that you feel, you are experiencing memories that hopefully bring you some solace in this saddest of times.
I wish I had more to say but I don’t. Just be well Sarah. Take care of yourself.
I was teaching college classes the year Fast Car came out. Walked upstairs into admin offices between classes, half dozen folks in there doing office things, the radio humming in the background. I'm going about my business and the music is suddenly clear and loud and the line we share is " I want a ticket to anywhere", and everyone stops everything and we all slide toward the main desk where the radio sits and lean in listening so closely and people in the hallway across from the library quietly turn their heads and stop. everything stops. we know this is different, this is something, and that we'll hear this again, but no one moves as the song ends. we lean closer in the the second before the DJ says, "Tracy Chapman wrote that song". Almost in unison we all lean back and repeat that name together, Tracy Chapman. We look at each other. We're somehow changed.
may your memories and your mourning bring you comfort.
Thank you
you're welcome
Even while grieving you are sharing- so glad to see your post. I just reconnected with my freshman college roommate after missing her for 25 years in a timeline divergence. We met in 1988 and that cassette was the college coffee house rotation favorite. So glad to reconnect with this friend and I’m now on tour with no book or music, just my big mouth saying, “find that old friend you think about. They miss you, too.” She is now reading Hiding in Plain Sight - a great reunion gift title - thank you!
Hang in there ❤️🩹🕯️
Thank you
So sorry for your sadness. My dad died in 2017 and I still think about him, evoke him, remember his stories nearly every day. It can change from an aching hole in your heart to a wealth of memories that can be used to fill that void at some point. Until then, my heart goes out to you and your family. Travel safely. ❤️
Thank you. It is so hard right now.
I worked in the "old" music business--before it was corporatized--for nearly 30 years in LA and SF. People like Herb Alpert, the "A" in A&M Records, would put money and effort into developing unknown artists; Bill Graham, concert promoter extraordinaire, presented the music at ticket prices that were affordable to the average person and paired acts that were of different musical styles exposing audiences to artists they might never have heard otherwise -- like booking Miles Davis w/Grateful Dead at the Fillmore West in 1970. Those were great times for live music! Now, it's just about money, money, and more money ...
“The music business is a cruel and shallow money trench, a long plastic hallway where thieves and pimps run free, and good men die like dogs. There's also a negative side."
Hunter S. Thompson
Now more than ever
Perhaps now this song will be like a hug from your wonderful dad whenever you listen to it. Keeping you and your family in my thoughts dear Sarah. As always your writing is beautiful and heart wrenching. 💔
My deepest condolences, Sarah. The picture of Tracy Chapman was taken by my dear friend Matt Mahurin. (He also made the video of “ Fast Car.” I will make sure he sees your essay—he’ll be happy to know how his work connected with your dad and you.
So sorry for your loss and may his memory continue to be a blessing to you and your family. My brother passed away in March after a battle against terminal cancer over about the same timeline as your father. I've lost my father, husband and 3 brothers all to different forms of cancer so my heart breaks for you and all of us who are dealing with loss. May their memories continue to lift us up.
I'm so sorry about your losses. I have lost so many people to cancer over the past three years. I was originally supposed to go to a memorial for my aunt, who just died of cancer, when my dad also died of cancer. While at my mom's I visited my best friend, whose husband died of cancer three years ago. And it goes on and on from there. I'm not that old, I'm in my 40s (so is my best friend) and the number of people we know in our age group with cancer or who've died of cancer since 2020 is enormous.
As my brother Tom and I journeyed through the last 2 years it was sadly obvious how the focus of healthcare is on money and not on care. I will continue to keep you in my thoughts and prayers and I look forward to your book.
I just realized my brother and your Dad were the same age, 1950-2026
I worked in the time you mentioned and sent 57 people to prison on Federal fraud convictions. That was a time when political affiliations had little to do with whether a prosecution took place. I worked Watergate in Miami and voted for Nixon twice. Ah, the good old days. Condolences on your dad, mine died at 47 from lung cancer when I was 26 and serving in the US Navy. I remember him and my mom puffing away with 3 kids in the back as they drove through New England winters. No one in our extended families smoke. He never earned more than $7,000 in his best year, yet he and my stay-home mom owned two modest homes when I was growing up. That United States is gone, swallowed up by the greed of a system which has no regard for common folk.
I'm sorry for your loss. May your musical memories wrap you up and help you find comfort.
One of my favorite pieces of yours. Been thinking of you 🧡
Thank you
I remember listening to that song back then, with a friend of mine, who has since passed away. And last night I watched a video of Tracy Chapman singing the song, so for me seeing this article is a strange coincidence.
Thank you for sharing with us even in your grief. This was so beautiful. Last week, Bruce Springsteen played here in LA, and I bought my 27 year old son and his girlfriend tickets because I wanted them to experience him in a live performance. I understand Bruce started the concert with an electric and fiery speech. My son said it was the most amazing night he’s had, that it brought tears to his eyes. During these terrible times, there are moments eternal and perfect. May your own memories sustain you.
I choke up every time I hear her sing "Fast Car." It draws me into the desperation experienced by the two folks whose only choice is to speed away from their circumstances and dream of a better life, held back by the need for father's care. Heartbreaking every time.
I’m not sure what to say other than I’m so very sorry about the passing of your dad. In your deep pain that you feel, you are experiencing memories that hopefully bring you some solace in this saddest of times.
I wish I had more to say but I don’t. Just be well Sarah. Take care of yourself.
I’m sitting at a Texas Roadhouse eating lunch and reading this and Fast Car comes on. All the feels.
I was teaching college classes the year Fast Car came out. Walked upstairs into admin offices between classes, half dozen folks in there doing office things, the radio humming in the background. I'm going about my business and the music is suddenly clear and loud and the line we share is " I want a ticket to anywhere", and everyone stops everything and we all slide toward the main desk where the radio sits and lean in listening so closely and people in the hallway across from the library quietly turn their heads and stop. everything stops. we know this is different, this is something, and that we'll hear this again, but no one moves as the song ends. we lean closer in the the second before the DJ says, "Tracy Chapman wrote that song". Almost in unison we all lean back and repeat that name together, Tracy Chapman. We look at each other. We're somehow changed.
Beautiful memory & so well written. You had me there.