October 30, 2020

October 30, 2020 

Fucking Beethoven. 

Music can be a gut punch. A swell of emotion that shatters you and leaves you bawling uncontrollably as you try to make sense of the feelings you’ve been suppressing for so long. My glasses filthy from my tears of hope, fear, joy, despair... 

One moment, in a restaurant - celebrating - of all things Oktoberfest - on the night before Halloween - the full moon - the blue moon - and that last weekend before the election. Our friends two tables back, both acknowledged and missed as we recounted all the friends we haven’t seen or touched in so long. 

Then, getting into the car and there was the Ninth. The 4th Movement. The Ode to Joy. Only this was the alternate version, the Ode to “Freedom” - the version that swaps out “freude ” for “freiheit” the version conceived for the fall of the Berlin Wall and German reunification. The true end of the war. A point almost equidistant from the fall of Nazism and now. 

I sang and Lisa drove, I sang until I started weeping. Beethoven. Fucking Beethoven. The Ninth - the CD we bought before we had a CD player because this was the song we wanted to first hear in its digital perfection. The hope for a future full of progress - of pristine music if nothing else (jet packs anyone?). I wept. I wept until I was empty. I miss so many people, living and dead. 

I still want to unlock and cling to this joy, this optimism for the future - but I’ll suck it back up for now. Dry the tears and clean my glasses. Pour a glass and wait. 

Freude