He is the younger brother of my Uncle Bill, who has written a few books:
(That's just a sampling - you can check out the whole bunch of them on Amazon including my favorite A Doubters Prayer Book that as it says in the dedication, "Dedicated to the Jesuits, who taught me how to doubt."
My Uncle Bill used to be a Jesuit. He is now married to my Aunt Roddy (who used to be a nun). Needless to say, I can write a very interesting blog about those two, and their great life of marring Lesbians in Vermont - but this isn't about them...
This post is about my Uncle Bill's son, my cousin, Neil Cleary - and how he gave a son a Father's Day gift:
Please take a moment (maybe after reading this) to check out his MySpace page:
Neil Cleary MySpace
It was through his page that I saw that he was coming to Chicago - to play at The Vic Theatre.
About 3 years ago Neil came through here to play... He had a set at a bar/club named Schubas. It's a hip place - ask any city cirl with a visible tattoo. Sadly, 3 years ago I was in the Prison of Hope known as my previous job, and I did not accompany my Father to the show. My Dad, a man who wakes up before 5 am, drove into the City alone to watch his nephew perform... He loved it. He loved being the Uncle.
I've felt bad about that night - not going - not having the family pride that my Dad exhibited. Being selfish for myself, wanting to sleep off one horrible day at work in preparation for the next...
Thankfully, I saw this show as a chance at redemption. Also, The Vic Theatre is a substantial venue... It was a great thing for Neil to be performing there and I really wanted to support it. My Dad was also exited and offered to not only go but pay. Even after I told him each ticket would be $28.
Through the magic of MySpace I contacted Neil, and he was able to put two tickets aside for us - this whole thing amazed my Father. Me finding out about the show, contacting Neil, and getting free tickets... It really doesn't take much to impress my Dad - the sheer quickness I was able to get the tickets out of the box office by pointing to our yet uncrossed names off the list wowed him.
The show was great. Yes, I may be biased, but I enjoyed it nonetheless. There's one particular song of his I really dig (you can find it on my profile currently), and I started singing along to it. I hope people around me heard/noticed me. Not only because they should know that its a song worth knowing, but that I was there to see this guy - not the guy closing for him.
Although I would like to believe that this is why people were looking at me, I know it is not. Flashback a few days earlier - when my Dad asked me for advice on what to wear. I won't bother typing what I said to him, only what he decided upon. He wore freshly polished brown leather loafers, navy blue dress pants with an ironed crease sharp enough to cut meat and a high quality polo shirt that was a gift from MySister. He was dressed to go to Church, not a concert. There were two aspects of my Father that set him apart:
1) He looked like he walked out of a Dockers Ad.
2) He had on the largest smile in the whole concert hall.
Back to what this post is somewhat about:
It didn't take me long to realize why my Dad was smiling. Soon, it became the same reason I was smiling. It wasn't just because we enjoyed the music (which we did), it was because what we witnessed. And it was amazingly beautiful.
We saw a man doing what he loved.
A man who wants to play music for a living.
All by himself on a stage and without fear or shyness, but of utter comfort and peace.
My Father and I were looking at a dream came true, Neil's dream.
I apologize to all my hardass readers. This is one of the more sappy posts in this blog's history. Fuck off, I mean it. Standing next to my Father watching my cousin was a special moment to me.
This is being posted on Father's Day on purpose. The round trip on the CTA conjured up some of my more classic childhood memories with my Father. Going downtown to shadow him for a day as he made sales calls or watching the Air & Water Show didn't seem as distant anymore.
And another great moment was when I left my Dad alone after Neil's set as I went down to talk to the Security Guards (I wanted to get the message backstage that Neil's family was present). I returned to where I told my Dad to stay put only to find him engaged in a conversation with two young women. These two young girls (really, they couldn't have been more than 22) were smiling politely at my Dad, nodding to the boastful Uncle. Not too long ago I would've become instantly outraged and embarrassed. Not anymore. I just stood next to him, laughing at his jokes, and wondering how I could ever be that good at anything.
