What do we all gotta give?
What do we all have to give?
What do we have to share?
My brother Jeremy - junior to me in age only, and that by 16 years - gives the world his music and me his time.
Not just me. But he has given me plenty of it.
When you think about the small amount of time you actually have to be alive, and think past that realization to the reality that whatever amount of time you think you have is almost one hundred percent certain to be less than what you think it is...then it starts to put the idea of time into a whole different context.
A hundred thousand essays and memorial sermons have been written about the precious nature of time and to use every second and minute and all that. And they're all great. But they all start to run together, like a thousand meals you've eaten and you know a lot of them were special and delicious, but you can't necessarily differentiate many of them from one another.
They're all true. Time is like energy: it can be transferred and shared, but it can't be destroyed or created. At least not until time travel is a reality.
Jeremy spent a day of his Saturday with me. He could have made music, or watched television, or played with his adorable dog, or any number of things, but he hopped in my motorcar in the snow and ice and drove down with me to McMinnville, Oregon, where he sat through a couple hours of short films in a dark theater.
We were there for the screening of a film I did with one of our other brothers, Jonny, who was unable to be there, having chosen to be Canadian for a couple years and thus out of country, although still in North America, so therefore incontinent.
The destination is less important for this post. This is the drive. Coffee, meandering conversation, Kings of Leon...
That's one of things I love about him: the ability to share vibrant conversation...and then to shift to listening to music and just being. Simply absorbing the music and letting that be the experience.
And back to dialogue.
That's the day, that's the way that time went. And I would not trade it.
Also, we stopped beside the road and filmed him performing one of his songs. Jamey. The cold was biting, he nearly lost three fingers. Perhaps you will someday see it, should he choose.