My Wayward ‘Son’
Music: Carry on Wayward Son
Artist: Kansas
Shared by: Andy for his Brother
“The power of algorithms. Inevitable. Scientific. Yet still a bit spooky. And as he lay there, the ‘elephant in the room’, ever present, of his impending death, we played the most poignant, relevant, achingly appropriate lyrics. ”
In January 2024 my brother, Richard, went into hospital.
It was sudden. He wasn’t ‘ill’. Until a tumour he didn’t know he had ruptured. That gave him sepsis, which put him in total organ failure, resulting in 4 months in intensive care, half of it on total ‘life support’ with tubes everywhere, a respirator, whilst a bank of computers took over his every function, as he lay ther like some kind of cyborg, just not a very ‘high functioning one’.
When he eventually left the hospital, in July, to enter ‘palliative care’, his mood lifted, but like from 0.5 to 1.7 out of 10, yet sufficient that he used his ‘Alexa’ to play music.
He’d played guitar since he was about 12. And he grew up with Black Sabbath, Led Zeppelin, Yes, Jimi Hendrix, Cream. He was a ‘rocker’, total and utterly.
And every visit to see him (lying immobile, as he had been since January, destined never to leave his bed again) led to calling up music we remembered, that we’d loved, that we’d forgotten for 40 years and just heard on Absolute Rock. Three times a week we’d trawl up old tracks and forget that he was dying, for just 4 minutes. Or 12 minutes if it was a Yes track.
He died in December. And in way, it was quite sudden. He didn’t noticeably deteriorate, not mentally anyway.
The week before, I walked in and before I even said ‘hello’, he told me he’d ’found a new track’. Oh, we didn’t do ‘new’, like WTF? But I replied, ‘so have I’. Because trawling through music on YouTube it ‘suggested’, based on my ‘history’, Carry on Wayward Son, by Kansas. Hmmmm. I didn’t know it but played it and just knew he’d love it. But before I told him, I asked what his track was, and he just said, ‘Alexa, play Carry on Wayward Son’.
The power of algorithms. Inevitable. Scientific. Yet still a bit spooky. And as he lay there, the ‘elephant in the room’, ever present, of his impending death, we played the most poignant, relevant, achingly appropriate lyrics.
“Carry on my wayward son
There’ll be peace when you are done
Lay your weary head to rest
Don’t you cry no more.”
I do cry, but can’t stop playing the track.