The Boss, and the group chat
I’m making sure this is published today because July 11 is one of my favorite days of the year.
It’s not a milestone, though it’s a couple days short of one. There’s nothing particularly significant about it. It’s just the day I know Jamie McBee is going to send me the same text he sends every year, and one that never hesitates to make me smile.
“Hey, have you talked to Wayne?”
Some background? I’m glad you asked.
In my former life as a full-time sportswriter, I was often ridiculed/berated/threatened with the loss of my “official sportswriter status” over my ambivalence toward Bruce Springsteen. I don’t mind The Boss, I acknowledge his undeniable talent and influence as a songwriter, it’s just that I prefer almost anyone singing his songs besides him. Check out The Band doing “Atlantic City’ and tell me it’s not better.
I also don’t like the stuff that most everybody else hails as his best stuff. Tunnel of Love? Sign me up. Nebraska? Hard pass (despite my love for “Atlantic City”). But there are a couple originals I do like, and “Darlington County” is one of them. It’s also Jamie’s favorite.
“Driving in to Darlington County/Me and Wayne on the Fourth of July…”
I don’t know what resonates with us about two New Jersey boys breezing into South Carolina on Independence Day, picking up girls and looking for work, but I know that I can count on Jamie to interpret one passage at the end of the song literally.
“Little girl, sittin’ in the window/Ain’t seen my buddy now in seven days…”
That would make it July 11 when our hero decides that Wayne’s missing. And that delights Jamie to no end, and prompts the text every year.
We got to talking about it the other day, and Jamie mentioned that he and I are a part of an alarming number of group texts together. I got curious, so I counted. There’s one with Jamie and his brother that is sports and trivia-centric. There’s one with the group that once made up the Piedmont Pick’em Show, and I’ll just let y’all guess how that one goes. There’s one that touches mainly on all things Clemson sports, and given Travis Jenkins’ usual game-day mood, it can turn dark in a hurry. There’s one that sometimes leans a little toward politics.
But there’s one in particular that I’m thinking about today. Jamie’s brother Tyler co-hosts a really popular trivia night around town, and has for a few years now. Jamie gently pressured me to play, told me I could join his team, and I finally took him up on it. That’s been about four years ago now, and I’ve rarely missed a Thursday.
The team has a group chat. And friends, believe me when I tell you it gets UNHINGED. It’s nothing to look at my phone, set it down, do a couple things at work or around the house and be away for an hour, then pick up the phone again to 80 text notifications. Weird humor. Dark humor. Music. Cooking. Random things we’ve observed. And memes on memes on memes.
That group chat is, some days, what keeps me going. Because they’re just some of the best people I’ve ever met. Accomplish something? There’s no bigger hype squad anywhere. Need something? You’re bombarded with immediate offers of help. Planning something? What can they do, or send, or bring? Think something somebody’s eating looks great? Here’s the recipe, and here’s how I tweak it to make it better.
And on and on. And the funny thing is, every one of us in that group has, in the time I’ve participated, been touched by pain, and joy, and sorrow, and loss, and accomplishment, and failure. Every single time, no matter what’s happened, the people in that text group are going to do one thing: they’re going to show up for each other.
Well, they’ll often make fun of you first, and continue to while they’re helping you, but they’re gonna show up.
So, as I often complain about the necessity of always being connected, and how technology has shrunk the world, and how people need to just unplug sometimes, and of being present, I also see the value of being reachable, particularly by these people who I care so much about. And I’d argue that showing up for your friends, even if it’s just a kind word when they need it, is the BEST kind of being present.
Even if Jamie and I are the only two of us who care what ever became of poor ol’ Wayne.
