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Messages for Bubba
01-17-2020, 03:33 PM
Post: #11
RE: Messages for Bubba
A great post! Thank you.

This really is a special place and I am pleased that there is a bit more activity.

"I don't cook; I prepare things." My late brother Bill
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01-19-2020, 01:37 PM
Post: #12
RE: Messages for Bubba
Suddenly you were gone...
I haven’t even fully processed it yet.
But I am grateful for this place and the friends I have met because of it.
Rest In Peace Neil.

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01-19-2020, 05:38 PM
Post: #13
RE: Messages for Bubba
Thank you, Professor.

For the music.
For the words.
For the thoughts.
For everything.

Rest in peace.
Peace to everyone who knew and loved you.
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01-19-2020, 08:19 PM
Post: #14
RE: Messages for Bubba
I posted this to my Facebook page a few days ago. I have waited to post it here given that I simply wasnt sure how well it may be received. I have watched many of the tributes from other musicians, friends, even some of the writers and media who interviewed him at one time or another. If you would indulge me, I hope that this letter will help some of you understand where I am coming from. I will be eternally grateful that you lived, and you lived well, to share your life with us and INSPIRE us all is truly the best gift you could give all of mankind.

The treasure of a life is a measure of love and respect
The way you live, the gifts that you give
In the fullness of time
It’s the only return that you expect


It’s been 5 days since the news of the death of the most iconic and talented Neil Peart of Rush. I make no excuses that he has always been my hero and inspiration. He simply was that good. Arguments can be made for Buddy Rich (whom Neil admired himself and was quoted as saying Buddy was the best drummer to have ever drawn breath), John Bonham of Led Zeppelin, and Keith Moon of The Who. While I make no argument that those men are superb talents at the kit, it stands to reason in my opinion that Neil’s supreme talent no only as a drummer but as a lyricist, writer, motorcyclist, and musician propel him to a level unto himself alone. And I admit – there are drummers today, such as Mike Portnoy of the Winery Dogs, Gavin Harrison of Porcupine Tree, and Danny Carey of Tool, who are superb talents in their own right. There may be a couple others, but Neil possessed a drive for excellence that is simply unparalleled. Period.
I had never heard of Rush until 1979, when my family moved to Portland, Oregon. My new high school friends had mentioned the group, but I was too busy listening to other bands and chasing cheerleaders. One day a neighborhood friend stopped by and asked if I had any records. Sadly I didn’t have much, so he gave me 3 records (yes boys and girls – VINYL!). AC-DC Back in Black, Boston – Boston, and some new record I didn’t recognize. It had a rather odd album art cover, and the back cover had a picture of 3 guys playing instruments. I was kind of struck by the drummer, but with an album called “A Farewell To Kings” I thought it was some sort of ambient stuff that didn’t really interest me but I set it aside so that my ears could enjoy some more mainstream stuff I had just received.

One day about a month later I was in my bedroom. I had started to write a paper for my high school expository writing class, and I knew I had to get it done. It seemed like a good time to try out the new record. Plopped it onto my cheap old record player, and within 3 notes of Side 1, I was stunned. Shocked. MEZMERIZED! I stood in the center of my room, with my big studio headphones on, just staring on my record player. I didn’t know what had happened, but it seemed like a bolt of lightning had just hit my heart, and just as I was about to move towards the record player, my dad, who had been standing behind me watching me intently tapped me on the shoulder, causing me to almost leap onto the ceiling like Sylvester the cat. “What are you doing” he asked. “I’m writing my report”. No you’re not what are you doing….writing my report…no you’re not. Finally, admittedly, I told him about my new record. He smiled, patted me on the shoulder, and told me to come outside it was a beautiful day and I could use some air before I started my paper. What he really wanted, as I learned after he left my room, was for me to mow the yard. I cursed him only for a moment, but knew he was right. Clearing the head helps. I mowed quickly (small yard anyway) and quickly returned to my room and started listening again. I didn’t know who these guys were but that music was other worldly. They used big words, used weird time signatures, and the lyrics were something out of a science fantasy. This became my quest. It was 1980.

Years later in 1998, an old Rush salt by now, I had enjoyed their music for 18 years by now. I was driving home from work. I turned on my radio, to the sounds of Rush playing. My commute was over 20 miles and I knew living in Oregon at that time I was in for a fairly lengthy commute. Suddenly the music ended, and the announcer came on live and announced that Neil’s wife, Jackie, had passed away from cancer, a mere 6 months after his daughter was killed in a car accident. I pulled over, teary, and prayed a simple prayer. Whether you believe in a benevolent deity is your choice, but I prayed, and I asked one thing. I didn’t care if he never played another note, ever wrote another lyric, ever even got behind the drum set again, if he could live and find some measure of happiness I wanted that for him. I drove home. Feeling low, confused. I listened to Rush that night, and put it away. I knew whatever fate was in store for him, there was nothing I could do but pray for his safety. I would wonder occasionally where he was or how he was. In the end I kept reciting that same prayer that I had said a couple years earlier. We moved back to Iowa, and by then I was raising my own family. Then one day, quite unexpectedly, in 2003, I found a new cd that I had not seen before. “Vapor Trails” which had been released about 9 months earlier, was the first album the band produced after Neil’s return. He had MADE IT! Somehow, inexplicably, he had survived the mourning of his loss, and had found a way to return to the band. I listened to the new cd, absorbed every morsel my ears craved. It was evident this was not a typical record from them. Neil left many clues of his pain, his trials, and his ordeal on the road. It was what he needed to say, to express, to the legions who admired him, and even unto himself. I felt that slowly, painfully, he was resurrecting himself from the depths of somewhere no one dared even talk about. Signal transmitted – message received.

It was 2015. The band had announced the last tour. A finality hung over this tour. You sensed every show was one step closer to closing the book on one of the most storied and supernatural careers in music, spanning over 40 years. R40 indeed was a celebration of the band by the band for the fans. For this fan, it was only a little sad to know they would be closing the book, but not too sad. Some folks never get a chance to retire. Some never see a time to rest on a career, especially a 40 year plus one. I attended a couple shows, including one in Toronto where they called home. I sensed a sadness in the crowd, but for me, I was actually rather happy to see them bringing their careers to a close and to celebrate with their families and their fans. After all, any rock band to have survived over 40 years with the same lineup is just unheard of. And then they were off to finish the last string of shows. I “wished them well”, and left feeling both happy and sad, but knowing these guys DESERVED to retire, to enjoy their lives, to be with their families too.

The “announcement” came January 10th. I was at work, and I received a text from my cousin. It was a link to an article about Neil. Feeling rather confused (because my cousin doesn’t just send me a message – we’re fairly tight and don’t need to toss messages back and forth every day) I opened the link, and stared unbelievably at what I was sent. Neil had passed away. My favorite musician, fellow motorcyclist, all around good egg, the guy who was a master lyricist and the best drummer in the world, was gone. This can’t be. No!! It’s not true! He was Superman to me! But, sadly, it was only all too true. I drove home that night, in stunned, broken silence. I put Rush on my radio in my truck, and drove 36 miles back home, in rush hour traffic, my senses overloaded with a desperate plea to find out this was all a cruel joke. Suddenly, my phone began to light up with messages from others. I had been a member of Neil’s website forum for several years, and many of the members were messaging. Some of my friends were also extending their thoughts. In my agony of the moment, I simply could not even look at my phone.

Today, three days after the announcement had been made of Neil’s death, I have watched the displays of love, admiration, and respect for Neil. Tributes have been pouring in for him from almost every genre of the music industry and from every walk of life. The only other time in the history of my life I have ever seen this much outpouring was for Ronald Reagan and Dale Earnhardt. I have admired a lot of musicians, many race car drivers, astronauts even astronomers and physicists, but I don’t think the death of anyone has ever affected such a large audience nor commanded so much love and outpouring. In my own way, I am left with a void, an emptiness in my soul. I know that somehow life will go on, that in time hearts will heal, but Neil’s death has ripped into my soul, and torn away the sound tracks that I molded my life by.

Rush just was. They were there for every part of my life. They were my warm blanket. They gave my soul the things I needed to hear, and maybe even some I didn’t. Neil’s books too, have taught me things, about myself, about motorcycling, about life. Sometimes I disagreed with what I read. And that’s ok, because you can never agree with anyone 100 percent of the time. The happiest moment for me came when his daughter Olivia was born. I saw him smile as a father should. She was the answer to the prayer I had said many years ago, on a highway in Oregon. Now her daddy has passed, and she will be left to learn the lessons of adulthood alone with her mother Carrie. Some things, to me, are just too wrong in this world. This is one that I can never see. Unfortunately I don’t get to make that call. Sometimes, the answer is no. This is one man who deserved to see his family grow. He deserved to be a grandfather. He deserved to because to me he was the very best of all humanity. He was the very best of us all, because he gave us his very best every day. If I could give my life to see him live yet one more day, I’d offer it up gladly so that he could be with his family yet even now. Words, though, seem so trivial, so small now. I can only hope that my words of Thanks to his wife and his daughter, his friends, bandmates, Michael and Brutus too, can at least in some small way take meaning and ease the loss you must be feeling.

Rest in peace Neil. I will see you in the breeze.

Primary Principle - "It must NEVER be my fault"
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01-19-2020, 11:43 PM (This post was last modified: 01-19-2020 11:45 PM by HarleyMan2112.)
Post: #15
RE: Messages for Bubba
Re: Boomer

Thanks for posting man. Much love and respect.
*SALUTE*
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01-20-2020, 07:26 AM
Post: #16
RE: Messages for Bubba
(01-19-2020 08:19 PM)Boomer Wrote:  I posted this to my Facebook page a few days ago. I have waited to post it here given that I simply wasnt sure how well it may be received. I have watched many of the tributes from other musicians, friends, even some of the writers and media who interviewed him at one time or another. If you would indulge me, I hope that this letter will help some of you understand where I am coming from. I will be eternally grateful that you lived, and you lived well, to share your life with us and INSPIRE us all is truly the best gift you could give all of mankind.

The treasure of a life is a measure of love and respect
The way you live, the gifts that you give
In the fullness of time
It’s the only return that you expect


It’s been 5 days since the news of the death of the most iconic and talented Neil Peart of Rush. I make no excuses that he has always been my hero and inspiration. He simply was that good. Arguments can be made for Buddy Rich (whom Neil admired himself and was quoted as saying Buddy was the best drummer to have ever drawn breath), John Bonham of Led Zeppelin, and Keith Moon of The Who. While I make no argument that those men are superb talents at the kit, it stands to reason in my opinion that Neil’s supreme talent no only as a drummer but as a lyricist, writer, motorcyclist, and musician propel him to a level unto himself alone. And I admit – there are drummers today, such as Mike Portnoy of the Winery Dogs, Gavin Harrison of Porcupine Tree, and Danny Carey of Tool, who are superb talents in their own right. There may be a couple others, but Neil possessed a drive for excellence that is simply unparalleled. Period.
I had never heard of Rush until 1979, when my family moved to Portland, Oregon. My new high school friends had mentioned the group, but I was too busy listening to other bands and chasing cheerleaders. One day a neighborhood friend stopped by and asked if I had any records. Sadly I didn’t have much, so he gave me 3 records (yes boys and girls – VINYL!). AC-DC Back in Black, Boston – Boston, and some new record I didn’t recognize. It had a rather odd album art cover, and the back cover had a picture of 3 guys playing instruments. I was kind of struck by the drummer, but with an album called “A Farewell To Kings” I thought it was some sort of ambient stuff that didn’t really interest me but I set it aside so that my ears could enjoy some more mainstream stuff I had just received.

One day about a month later I was in my bedroom. I had started to write a paper for my high school expository writing class, and I knew I had to get it done. It seemed like a good time to try out the new record. Plopped it onto my cheap old record player, and within 3 notes of Side 1, I was stunned. Shocked. MEZMERIZED! I stood in the center of my room, with my big studio headphones on, just staring on my record player. I didn’t know what had happened, but it seemed like a bolt of lightning had just hit my heart, and just as I was about to move towards the record player, my dad, who had been standing behind me watching me intently tapped me on the shoulder, causing me to almost leap onto the ceiling like Sylvester the cat. “What are you doing” he asked. “I’m writing my report”. No you’re not what are you doing….writing my report…no you’re not. Finally, admittedly, I told him about my new record. He smiled, patted me on the shoulder, and told me to come outside it was a beautiful day and I could use some air before I started my paper. What he really wanted, as I learned after he left my room, was for me to mow the yard. I cursed him only for a moment, but knew he was right. Clearing the head helps. I mowed quickly (small yard anyway) and quickly returned to my room and started listening again. I didn’t know who these guys were but that music was other worldly. They used big words, used weird time signatures, and the lyrics were something out of a science fantasy. This became my quest. It was 1980.

Years later in 1998, an old Rush salt by now, I had enjoyed their music for 18 years by now. I was driving home from work. I turned on my radio, to the sounds of Rush playing. My commute was over 20 miles and I knew living in Oregon at that time I was in for a fairly lengthy commute. Suddenly the music ended, and the announcer came on live and announced that Neil’s wife, Jackie, had passed away from cancer, a mere 6 months after his daughter was killed in a car accident. I pulled over, teary, and prayed a simple prayer. Whether you believe in a benevolent deity is your choice, but I prayed, and I asked one thing. I didn’t care if he never played another note, ever wrote another lyric, ever even got behind the drum set again, if he could live and find some measure of happiness I wanted that for him. I drove home. Feeling low, confused. I listened to Rush that night, and put it away. I knew whatever fate was in store for him, there was nothing I could do but pray for his safety. I would wonder occasionally where he was or how he was. In the end I kept reciting that same prayer that I had said a couple years earlier. We moved back to Iowa, and by then I was raising my own family. Then one day, quite unexpectedly, in 2003, I found a new cd that I had not seen before. “Vapor Trails” which had been released about 9 months earlier, was the first album the band produced after Neil’s return. He had MADE IT! Somehow, inexplicably, he had survived the mourning of his loss, and had found a way to return to the band. I listened to the new cd, absorbed every morsel my ears craved. It was evident this was not a typical record from them. Neil left many clues of his pain, his trials, and his ordeal on the road. It was what he needed to say, to express, to the legions who admired him, and even unto himself. I felt that slowly, painfully, he was resurrecting himself from the depths of somewhere no one dared even talk about. Signal transmitted – message received.

It was 2015. The band had announced the last tour. A finality hung over this tour. You sensed every show was one step closer to closing the book on one of the most storied and supernatural careers in music, spanning over 40 years. R40 indeed was a celebration of the band by the band for the fans. For this fan, it was only a little sad to know they would be closing the book, but not too sad. Some folks never get a chance to retire. Some never see a time to rest on a career, especially a 40 year plus one. I attended a couple shows, including one in Toronto where they called home. I sensed a sadness in the crowd, but for me, I was actually rather happy to see them bringing their careers to a close and to celebrate with their families and their fans. After all, any rock band to have survived over 40 years with the same lineup is just unheard of. And then they were off to finish the last string of shows. I “wished them well”, and left feeling both happy and sad, but knowing these guys DESERVED to retire, to enjoy their lives, to be with their families too.

The “announcement” came January 10th. I was at work, and I received a text from my cousin. It was a link to an article about Neil. Feeling rather confused (because my cousin doesn’t just send me a message – we’re fairly tight and don’t need to toss messages back and forth every day) I opened the link, and stared unbelievably at what I was sent. Neil had passed away. My favorite musician, fellow motorcyclist, all around good egg, the guy who was a master lyricist and the best drummer in the world, was gone. This can’t be. No!! It’s not true! He was Superman to me! But, sadly, it was only all too true. I drove home that night, in stunned, broken silence. I put Rush on my radio in my truck, and drove 36 miles back home, in rush hour traffic, my senses overloaded with a desperate plea to find out this was all a cruel joke. Suddenly, my phone began to light up with messages from others. I had been a member of Neil’s website forum for several years, and many of the members were messaging. Some of my friends were also extending their thoughts. In my agony of the moment, I simply could not even look at my phone.

Today, three days after the announcement had been made of Neil’s death, I have watched the displays of love, admiration, and respect for Neil. Tributes have been pouring in for him from almost every genre of the music industry and from every walk of life. The only other time in the history of my life I have ever seen this much outpouring was for Ronald Reagan and Dale Earnhardt. I have admired a lot of musicians, many race car drivers, astronauts even astronomers and physicists, but I don’t think the death of anyone has ever affected such a large audience nor commanded so much love and outpouring. In my own way, I am left with a void, an emptiness in my soul. I know that somehow life will go on, that in time hearts will heal, but Neil’s death has ripped into my soul, and torn away the sound tracks that I molded my life by.

Rush just was. They were there for every part of my life. They were my warm blanket. They gave my soul the things I needed to hear, and maybe even some I didn’t. Neil’s books too, have taught me things, about myself, about motorcycling, about life. Sometimes I disagreed with what I read. And that’s ok, because you can never agree with anyone 100 percent of the time. The happiest moment for me came when his daughter Olivia was born. I saw him smile as a father should. She was the answer to the prayer I had said many years ago, on a highway in Oregon. Now her daddy has passed, and she will be left to learn the lessons of adulthood alone with her mother Carrie. Some things, to me, are just too wrong in this world. This is one that I can never see. Unfortunately I don’t get to make that call. Sometimes, the answer is no. This is one man who deserved to see his family grow. He deserved to be a grandfather. He deserved to because to me he was the very best of all humanity. He was the very best of us all, because he gave us his very best every day. If I could give my life to see him live yet one more day, I’d offer it up gladly so that he could be with his family yet even now. Words, though, seem so trivial, so small now. I can only hope that my words of Thanks to his wife and his daughter, his friends, bandmates, Michael and Brutus too, can at least in some small way take meaning and ease the loss you must be feeling.

Rest in peace Neil. I will see you in the breeze.

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02-27-2020, 01:17 PM
Post: #17
RE: Messages for Bubba
Oh wow! I missed this...

What an eloquent, heartfelt, and moving post, my friend. Very well-done!

And since I want to be sure everyone sees this announcement, I'll include it hear as well...
https://consequenceofsound.net/2020/02/n...l-concert/

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