1

I couldn’t sleep last night because Dave Mason died.

At least that’s what I figured out.

Oh, I was a Dave Mason fan. “Only You Know and I Know” was the breakout track from Delaney & Bonnie’s “On Tour” album, the one with Eric Clapton, but the definitive version came months later on Dave’s solo debut, “Alone Together.”

For a minute there, Dave was hot. Ironically, it was not in 1970, when those two LPs were released, but fully seven years later, when Dave had a hit with “We Just Disagree,” which he didn’t write, did you know that? It was composed by Jim Krueger, a member of Mason’s band. That’s life, you continue to discover new things, then you die.

And that’s what I’m talking about here, dying. Dave Mason just passed at 79. He would have been 80 next month. We knew he was ill, he had to stop touring, but we didn’t expect him to die just now, we don’t expect to die just now, and that’s the point.

I sleep intermittently. I have to get up to pee multiple times per night, despite taking anti-pee medication. The urologist said you don’t wake up to pee, you wake up and then get the urge to pee. Hard for me to buy that, but he’s the expert.

Last night before I went to bed I was reading Karl Ove Knausgard’s “The School of Night.” I first heard of him at dinner in Oslo fifteen years ago. My two compatriots were testifying about him, how he was the most famous guy in Norway. A writer?

And then “My Struggle” broke in the U.S. and I found it hard to read. But Felice just completed “The School of Night” and I decided to make a commitment. It’s like Tolstoy, as in despite being long and dense a lot happens. It’s the opposite of the Iowa Writers’ Workshop, it’s not laden with description, story is king. But it doesn’t cut like butter, maybe because it’s translated from the Norwegian.

And then I lay my head down.

The Knausgard book was a good palate cleanser. It’s hard not to get wrapped up in the perils, the commitments of life. But the Knausgard book is otherworldly, in that it’s mostly inner dialogue, what goes on in the main character’s head, just like all these thoughts play in your own brain 24/7.

And I won’t say that after putting the book down I fell asleep instantly, I never do. As I always say, I never get tired and I can’t get up. As in trying to keep my eyes open…that never happens to me. Like Frank Zappa, I could stay up twenty hours a day and ultimately work my way around the clock. But that’s hard to do if you’re not a rock star, society demands you fit in.

And society tells you you’re never going to die.

So I ultimately fall asleep, wake up hours later, I’m not sure of the time, (I keep the clock covered, otherwise the number will freak me out and keep me awake), and can’t fall back asleep.

Now when I was going through a bad time in the nineties, the doctor said if you can’t sleep there’s a reason.

I know many take pills, or gummies. But I listen to what the man said, if I can’t sleep, I believe I have something to work out, and I stay awake and power through it. Which can be painful, but…

And last night I couldn’t fall back asleep and that’s when it occurred to me, I was gonna die.

2

Steve Winwood is the only core member of Traffic still alive. Chris Wood drank himself to death, pneumonia put the nail in his coffin at age 39, over forty years ago. Jim Capaldi was taken down by stomach cancer at age 60, twenty years ago. Rik Grech worked with Traffic, he passed at 43 as a result of alcoholism in 1990. Remember when Chris Blackwell bought out their studio time so Roger Hawkins and David Hood would go on the road as the rhythm section of Traffic? Hawkins is gone, as well as their compatriot in Muscle Shoals Sound Studio, piano player Barry Beckett. However, Hood is still kicking at 82. As for Rebop Kwaku Baah? He died on stage of a cerebral hemorrhage at 39. Maybe someone who was there knows if he snorted a ton of coke, that’s one of the main reasons this occurs.

That’s quite a trail of age and misadventure. But we expect our musicians to die early, but when they live long…

It seems like Ringo is going to live forever, he’s got a new album, still goes on the road and will be 86 in July. McCartney’s a bit younger, and just as spry, a spring chicken at 83 who will be 84 in June. But the Big C got George Harrison, he didn’t even make it to 60. And we all know what happened to John Lennon…

The two remaining Beatles are poster boys for good health. But all four Ramones are dead. And now…

I’m in a better mood. Talking about rock history, my mental rolodex going through the years. That’s what music will do, keep you young.

But I didn’t feel young in the middle of the night. I mean if Dave Mason died at 79…THAT’S ONLY SIX YEARS AWAY!

And that put a whole new lens on things.

Now I’ve got to tell you, I’ve never met a baby boomer who thought they were going to die. They’re not like their parents, they changed the world, they’re hip, they’re forever…

But they’re not.

So if I die in six years…

Well, I’d better start spending my money. Do what I want to. Only the older you get, the more you realize you’re not going to do everything you wanted to.

So how do you live? Do you throw everyday life aside and start traveling? That’s another thing they don’t tell you…as you get older so much loses meaning. First your possessions, then your status in life, it’s kind of like you become detached from society and fade out.

Then there are those fighting to be current. Known by the youngsters, in the game. Still accumulating, hoping to impact the world. But the truth is the world doesn’t care. If anyone is remembered, chances are we don’t know who they are right now. Nick Drake?

So I’m numb. I can’t eat and I can barely speak. And I can’t share my thoughts with anyone because they’re all in denial.

If I tell them I’m afraid of dying they’ll tell me how healthy I am. They’re just plugging along, staying alive, what makes me so different?

Only I’m not. I’m verbalizing what so many feel inside.

And now it’s my birthday. And I’m 73. Try squaring that. You can’t.

3

So I’m disoriented. In a world that’s more disorienting than ever. The news is confounding.

Then I just read that Representative David Scott died at 80. He was seeking reelection. Turns out the road does not go on forever.

I’m not old, I’m young! That’s how I feel, but tell it to my insides. You can update the exterior with plastic surgery, but the interior keeps breaking down.

Tomorrow my special day will be in the rearview mirror.

But today…

I take my birthday seriously, I disconnect from work, I eat my pastrami sandwich, I luxuriate in feeling special.

And then it’s over.

But today, I’m stuck at the crossroads of life. The traffic light is blinking alternately green and red. Caution is thrown to the wind, why play it safe at this age?

I’m not quite sure of the path forward. And to what degree it involves the past. But I just got this e-mail:

Dear Bob, I wanted to reach out and let you know That I co-wrote Dave’s memoir with him, “only you know and I know.“

He shared with me more than once how much he enjoyed talking with you a number of years ago and how much he appreciated what you wrote about him. He loved how you called him a “guitar slinger“ and really understood what his live show was all about. He and I became such dear friends over the years before during and after working on the book and I just wanted to reach out and let you know that he really respected you and appreciated what you did.

Chris Epting