A concert and a funeral.

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Like me, the musician Bob Mould was born in 1960. I have about two months of longevity on him.

Hüsker Dü, the band that made Mould famous, was formed in 1979, roughly a year after my final high school English class. My teacher (and subsequently, my friend) was Bob Youngblood, whose funeral was held this morning, less than twelve hours after we saw Mould perform at Headliners.

As noted elsewhere, the volume of Mould’s show may have fractured my skull, but it was a very joyful injury. The Youngblood visitation was sad, and yet redemptive in its own way.

There was a lot of love in both those rooms.

Honestly, I can detect absolutely no connection between the two Bob’s, except that I’ll always remember the concert before the funeral, and chuckle. It’s quite likely that back in the day, as a senior, I stumbled once and maybe twice into Mr. Youngblood’s class with a hangover, ears ringing, still reeking of pot smoke, because the gang had attended a performance the night before.

No, there isn’t a conclusion to this rumination.

It just is what it is, a sort of free association just like all the rest. There’ll be more of both, shows and funerals. Maybe they won’t always coincide, but this time, it helped.

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