Vigil
Bruce McCulloch Lyrics

Vigil. I don't know what a vigil is.
I don't really understand what a vigil is, but I have an idea that it has something to do with candles and is a somber occasion.

I have some idea, though, that it involves candles.
While I'm not entirely sure what a vigil is, I suspect that it involves lighting candles to honor someone or something.

The lighting of candles, the making and breaking of eye contact, sad shrugs and words that aren't like Hmmm, Ahhh.
I imagine that a vigil is a solemn event, where people light candles, avoid frivolous conversation, and share emotional looks and gestures.

I've never been to a vigil.
Despite my assumptions about what a vigil might entail, I've never actually attended one myself.

I've never been to a funeral.
While I've never attended a vigil, I've also never been present at a formal funeral service.

The closest thing to a funeral? Three turtles I flushed down the toilet in 1973.
Although I haven't been to a funeral, I've had to say goodbye to things in other ways, such as flushing pets down the toilet as a child.

A vigil isn't even a funeral. It's like going to a drive-in with no screen.
Even though I don't really know what a vigil is, I do know that it's not the same as a funeral, but I'm not sure what the event actually entails.

And I've never been at a party that people said reminded them of a vigil.
Although I've never actually gone to a vigil, I have been to some somber events that people compare to funerals, but never a vigil.

We all get through life scathed and unscathed in our own ways.
As we go through life, we all face ups and downs and handle them differently.

Growing up, I owned four Toyotas that were in a total of fifteen crashes, but never a vigil.
Although I've never been to a vigil, I've experienced other difficult situations, such as getting into multiple car accidents over the years.

The bluest skies I've ever seen weren't in Seattle. The greenest hills I've ever seen weren't in Seattle.
Contrary to popular belief, I did not find Seattle to be particularly beautiful, as the skies and hills looked grey to me upon my arrival.

When I arrived in that coastal town there was only shades of grey.
Upon arriving in Seattle, I found the weather and scenery to be dull and unimpressive.

I arrived in Seattle ninety minutes prior to the vigil.
I happened to arrive in Seattle right before a vigil was scheduled to take place.

I hate to admit it, but upon arrival, for a selfish, confused instant, I thought the attention might have been about me.
When I arrived in Seattle, part of me was worried that the vigil might have been related to something I did or was otherwise focused on me.

The same way I felt when I saw those kids who lined the hotel lobby in Winnipeg.
I experienced a similar feeling of anxiety when I saw a group of teenagers in a Winnipeg hotel lobby.

They were there for the King. The King and the big L.A. Kings bus that pulled up minutes after our van.
As it turned out, the teenagers were not focused on me, but on a celebrity, The King, who arrived shortly after our van pulled up. His presence quickly stole the focus of the people in the area.

The hockey players got out, suits on, broken noses, farm-born millionaires.
When the hockey players who were accompanying The King disembarked, they were decked out in expensive suits and showed off their rugged pasts by displaying facial injuries and previous ties to farming.

And last came Gretzky – little, long hair, alone and powerful… like Mother Theresa must have looked in her thirties.
Finally, The King himself, Gretzky, stepped off the bus, looking small but imposing with his long hair and commanding presence, almost like a young Mother Theresa might have appeared in her prime.

Our Seattle van driver told me a good place to eat steak and that he'd driven Kurt on New Year's Eve and he was really messed up.
One of the drivers who picked me up in Seattle offered me advice on where to find a good steak and shared a story about driving a musician, Kurt, who was very drunk on another occasion.

But they always say that. Whoever they drove, anywhere, ever, was really messed up, which really means they were probably just quiet or thinking about something.
It seems that many drivers, including the one who drove Kurt, tend to exaggerate stories about their passengers' inebriation, which is likely oversold in some cases.

I could just see two girls in a Seattle suburb, if Seattle has suburbs, I didn't know, I had just arrived.
I imagined a pair of girls in a surrounding area of Seattle wondering what they should wear to the vigil and whether they might be able to dress for the occasion in a way that would be meaningful to the person being remembered.

I hadn't even eaten my steak yet.
At this point in the story, I had not yet gotten to explore the city or try its restaurants, as I was still relatively new to town.

Okay, alright… I watched T.V.
Instead of going outside and participating in the vigil, I stayed in my room and watched TV.

I was torn between my own sleep and going down to the square.
I was uncertain about whether I should stay in my room and rest or venture out to the vigil that was happening nearby.

I just didn't know if I was in the mood to see beautiful seventeen year old children in dreadlocks, white hippies celebrating dark death.
One of the reasons I was hesitant to attend the vigil was because I was not sure if I wanted to spend time among a group of teenagers with dreadlocks and white hippies mourning a tragic event.

Cynicism is my whiskey. And I had a few.
I tend to be a cynical person, and that night I drank a few alcoholic beverages that further amplified my negative outlook on things.

So, are the other two guys gonna get a new singer?
Despite the somber occasion of the vigil, I found myself thinking about other matters such as whether my bandmates would need to find a new singer now that Kurt Cobain was no longer alive.

Robert Plant could use a job.
As a joke, I suggested that Robert Plant, the singer from Led Zeppelin, might be in need of work as well.

Would the square be full if he had simply slipped on a small hotel soap, gargled his tongue, and gone?
I wondered if anyone would have held a vigil if someone like Robert Plant had died in what seemed like a much less spectacular way than Kurt Cobain.

What if it wasn't a beautiful, blue-eyed, black-hearted, blonde boy? What if it had been someone like Aaron Neville?
I questioned whether the vigil would have been as highly attended or emotional if the person being remembered was someone who did not fit the mold of a beautiful, tortured artist, such as Aaron Neville.

Don't get me wrong. Someone sad and crazy had done something hideous and left a lot of stronger people behind. There was not a lot else to be said.
Despite my cynical and distracted thoughts during the vigil, I acknowledge that a tragic and disturbing event had occurred, and many people were likely struggling to cope with the aftermath.

And the next day, I went for a run along the ocean… Well, along an asphalt path along the ocean.
The day after the vigil, I decided to go for a run along the beach, or rather, along a paved path that ran alongside the shoreline.

And twenty minutes in, I stopped beside some wood, you know, planks, that someone had made to spell Bye, Kurt.
During my run, I came across a makeshift memorial created by someone using wooden planks to spell out a farewell message to Kurt Cobain.

I took a breath, looked up at Seattle and wondered what didn't he see.
Seeing the tribute to Kurt made me take a moment to reflect on his life and how it ended so tragically, and think about what he might have missed out on had he lived longer.

And if I've ever been to a vigil, I guess that was it.
While I wasn't present for the formal vigil, seeing the message at the beach and contemplating the loss of Kurt Cobain was, in some ways, my own personal vigil.