My dad said: “Where you been?”
I said: “I went to take my physical.”
He says: “What happened?”
I said: “They didn’t take me.”
And he said: “That’s good.”
Now, before I even start to talk to you about this song, you need to hear a specific intro. I’ll wait. Ok? Good. Now, for years I’ve had to defend the notion that you can enjoy being sad. Long before my father passed away, I used to try and explain to people that there was a beauty in sadness, and that it was worth considering. “Happiness cannot be happiness without contrast,” I would explain. Part of this logic is evident to most people who’ve ever met Irish people who like music. The rest should be evident to anyone who has ever seen “Romeo and Juliet,” or something similar. I suppose I’ve been challenged a bit on this point since that fateful November afternoon, but, ultimately, I stand by it. The most profound sadness can show you things of beauty if you know how to look. And there’s no question that this is an ability that my father gave me.