Which means I was standing in the shower thinking.
Eric Clapton and my mom.
That's a weird combo. You know Jason is going to make jokes about Clapton and your mom now, right?
But I was thinking about something I shared on the Facebooks the other day about Clapton going deaf. It left me truly gutted. He was my gateway into the blues.
The blues is the goddamn sexiest music ever invented.
Other people shared it from my page and somewhere along the way it devolved (as things always do on social media) into a hate-fest.
In a nutshell, he said some horribly racist shit in the 80s. He's owned it and apologized repeatedly. And yet, there will ALWAYS be a section of the population that will never forgive him.
I get that. Holier than thou motherfuckers aren't just for church.
But it got me wondering about things like grace and forgiveness.
When do we let Clapton off the mat?
When do we let someone have a shot at redemption? Can they be redeemed? He's owned his mistake. He's gotten sober and tried to set things right. He's done so fucking many good things since and been through his own personal hell (remember that time he lost his son?).
I dunno, man.
Of course, thoughts of forgiveness made me think of my mom.
She was a shit mom. I grew up mostly without her and when she was there she was more interested in partying with her friends. She gave me the worst beating of my life. She was my #metoo moment.
And then, eleven years ago, my dad died and she showed up. She asked for a chance and I gave it to her. My one stipulation: this relationship is all on you.
She isn't perfect but, that was never my expectation. It should never be for anyone.
She shows up.
If it wasn't for the grace of my own wife I wouldn't be sitting here typing this looking out at the Gulf of Mexico.
Postscript, when I finally saw Clapton live my only thought after was, now I can die happy.