Here We Still Are—By PJ
I told Kelly I would write a brief New Year’s Day invocation for our legions of readers, but it’s already a gray New York afternoon, and I find myself a bit lost for words.
At midnight I was huddled on my couch, watching PEN15 on my laptop with a group-chat window open. (Because this is what old folks do.) Our friend Carina in Australia was already living in the future—one in which she can visit with family and go shopping without fear—while Kelly, in Missouri, still had an hour to go.
Basically, New Year’s Eve 2020 resembled most of my other nights in 2020. My last few New Year celebrations have been pretty sedate anyway—more snacks than drinks—so I wasn’t too unhappy about being stuck at home. In fact, I like to be at home. But though I’m relieved to finally kick 2020 out on its hateful, disease-ridden ass, I’m not feeling an overabundance of joy and hope.
The first song that occurred to me on the stroke of midnight wasn’t the one you might expect. It was this one:
Many a days you have lingered around my cabin door
Oh, hard times, come again no more
U2 fam, we have been through a lot together. And not just in 2020. For the last several years, we have had one destabilizing event after another visited upon us. And I don’t think it matters too much what we consider our political, national, or spiritual alignments—we have all had to absorb the shock.
But we also had quite a lot of great U2, didn’t we?
Three sonically, technologically and visually stunning tours
The warmth, defiance, and far-seeing vision that is Songs Of Experience
The absolute wowzer of a re-released All That You Can’t Leave Behind, complete with personal faves like “Summer Rain,” “Stateless,” and “The Ground Beneath Her Feet,” as well as some beautifully remastered videos
Many charming and deeply-appreciated appearances, performances, and words of reassurance from Bono, Edge and Adam
A photo of Larry smiling in public somewhere (we love you, man)
U2 X-Radio, for those who partake
And the promise of more to come!
I wish I could say with confidence that 2021 will be a better year than 2020. It will probably be better, but we might only become aware of that in retrospect. I think that much of the world is in for at least a few more difficult months.
When I sing along with U2, I don’t always believe the words I’m singing. I don’t always believe, for example, that love is bigger than anything in its way. I want to believe it, but as a person living in the United States these last few years (hell, these last few decades) I see a lot of stuff that on the surface seems bigger and more powerful than love. Maybe that’s why Bono prefaces that line with “If I could hear myself when I say…”
During a recent period of upheaval, one of my friends on Twitter—and I’m so sorry but I can’t remember who it was—told me to picture myself in the not-too-distant future, in an arena, surrounded by friends, hearing the opening notes of “Where The Streets Have No Name.” Try it. You may sob, but it won’t be the bad kind of sobbing.
I last heard that song performed on June 28, 2017, in beautiful East Rutherford, New Jersey. Somewhere between the closing notes and the intro to “I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For,” Bono made one of his traditional expansive gestures toward the crowd and said, “Here we still are, there you still are. What a blessing.”
Indeed. Please, let’s all keep being there.
Happy New Year, everyone.