Rock On, Eddie Vedder

Bob Dylan said in one of his bootleg songs, "Death kept followin', tracking us down".  Last week, death tracked down a friend of my son. His name was Miles.

When a young man dies, it is generally from an accident, like a car wreck. Sometimes it is from drugs. Sometimes it is from being in the wrong place at the wrong time and a gun goes off. Sometimes it is war.

It was nothing like that with Miles. He had breakfast with his wife and then went into another room to practice his guitar. He never came out. 

He was thirty-two years old.

In middle school and high school, kids try to find their niche. For some it is sports. For some it is studies.  But for others, it is rock and roll. Miles was all about rock and roll. He came by it honestly. His dad was a good musician and Miles began playing the guitar and bass.

Miles went to the same church we did and I knew Miles from The Student Ministry where I helped out being "one of the Dads".  I'm not sure what the Dads actually did.  Our mere presence probably prevented all sorts of teenage Baptist debauchery. (By the way, Teenage Baptist Debauchery would be a good name for a band.)

Miles plugged in his guitar and helped with the Wednesday Night Worship Band that was sometimes sloppy but they made up for it by being loud.

It was there I saw that Miles had talent. Oh yeah, the boy could  play.

Trying to be hip to the young whippersnapper,  I called Miles "Eddie Vedder", after the frontman for Pearl Jam . He laughed and called me "Eddie Vedder" too. Soon, we were both calling each other Eddie Vedder. Thinking about that in this sad time makes me smile.

You think you know the kids your kid hangs around, but you really don't. You are an adult and you like Jimmy Buffett and have Plantar Facitis.  But this I know about Miles. He was always a polite and nice kid that could absolutely shred an electric guitar.

Rock on, Eddie Vedder. Rock on.