Death, parents, and gifting your art to a world that needs it

Plus a new tradition in honor of dad

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This is my first Christmas without my dad, but I’ve got the camera he used to take family photos here with me (along with like 10 rolls of film I need to develop).

We didn’t have much of a relationship in the last few years, so I’m not really “sad,” but like all family stuff it’s complicated.

I lost my mom in 2017, too. I think about her a lot, and how much she enjoyed this time of year. She loved the Christmas lights, and Emmet Otter's Jug-Band Christmas and baking cookies.

Dad, well, he was along for the ride. He just wanted to play his guitar. To his bull-headed credit, that’s what he did until he died alone in trailer that smelled of cigarettes and booze.

This is a reminder that when the lights go out, all in all is all we are.

Your entire life summed up by the people who might be by your side when you pass into the void.

That’s what will make you cry with something like joy or contentment on your deathbed: that you’ve helped people, been good to them, even strangers. That’s it.

It’s not the number of trips you take, not your bank account, not the number of friends or followers or subscribers or fans, not even your family, not your weight or the color of your hair. It’s that you’ve been good to the people all around you.

That’s from ‘What Will Really Matter on Your Deathbed’ by Sarah Fay, who lost her mother in the last few days.

You’ve got magic, your art, something to share, so make sure you share it with a world in need.

Oh, and make sure to be a good person to the people all around you at the same time.

The less rigid we make things, the more magic we can experience. I wrote about my dad’s rigid thinking of what it meant to be a musician.

Dad’s idea of “success” was having a group so he could get booked at local venues. Without that, life seemed not… worth living.

And yet, his neighbors loved hearing the music he played.

Our gifts are not transactions, but they need to exist in the world in whatever form they can take.

Instead we let algorithms and worldly definitions of success hinder our work, draining our creative energies and robbing the world of our magic.

Just because you can’t play to a sold out Madison Square Garden doesn’t mean you should stop making music.

The “likes” can’t determine our value, and the subscriber count goals change the minute we hit them.

I think about the musician who believes their work doesn’t matter because a recent post got five likes.

I think about talented artists that are waiting for permission to show their work in the “proper” spaces when there are thousands of people right outside their door who are looking for a bit of magic during their commute.

The writers waiting to be picked, deemed worthy to have their words printed and bound and placed next to a million other books, when words can live on park benches and poetry on the sides of non-working telephones booths.

Stability is not owed for these artistic efforts, but the world is a better place because of their existence. Though not everyone gets to earn a living from their art, everyone lives in a world that needs more of it.

It’s a cruel reality, that such talent and gifts can be ignored by so many, but we live with this and make our work anyways.

Because even in the grand scheme of things, most people have never heard of our heroes. There are so many people who’ve never heard of Austin Kleon or Kim Deal, and they’re huge.

Find freedom in that. Explore everything you can in your supposed obscurity. It's time to do whatever we want.

Let’s stop waiting for the next publication or platform to save us. The fix isn’t waiting for tech bros to share a tenth of a penny more in streaming payouts – the power is with people reading newsletters and creating websites.

Let’s be the media outlets, the tastemakers, the movers of culture.

• Start that in-person book club.

• Go on photo walks with friends.

• Visit your friend’s studio and make a zine.

• Work with friends and put out a recipes zine.

• Make a music video with your friend on Christmas.

We don’t need to wait for permission, to get booked, to get signed - we release our work today with the people already in our lives.

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My dad moved to Florida, so I didn’t see him much (I’m in Pennsylvania).

My sister flew down from Delaware with her kids to go to Disney. She told dad about this trip, and offered to pay for his ticket. You know, to see her and the grandkids.

Dad needed to drive just 45 minutes, but he didn’t meet up with them because he “didn’t want to pay the $20 for parking.”

This happened two years in a row.

So my sister is starting a new tradition in honor of a parent who couldn’t show up for his kids: tip $20 to someone on my dad’s birthday, December 24th. Cash preferred.

Happy Holidays. Stay safe, tip well.

//SETH

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