For My Brother ~ Something In the Night

Bruce Springsteen and the E-Street Band
Something In the Night
May 23, 2009, 50 Rte 120
East Rutherford, NJ 07073

As a Jersey boy, when life gets rough I tend to "turn the radio way up loud, so I don't have to think." And I tend to turn to my (slightly) older brother for his wisdom and comfort. Now it's my turn to offer a strong back and a shoulder to lean on.

Life can seem cruel, unfair and oh so brief. I deeply understand the pathos when Bruce sings, "As soon as you got something, they send someone to try and take it away." Kent, maybe because he was born in Virginia, rather than in the state that became known as much for its factories and boarded up cities, would reject the cynicism in that line. Kent having learned much from our Marine Corps dad, instead, finds hope no matter what life throws his way and Kent knows how to soldier on.


Luke Chadwick Gestures Against the Fading Light

Kent's son Luke received a double lung transplant a year ago and has a had a remarkable 12 months. Luke's courage and sweet good humor has carried him on incredible adventures. But, Luke has hit a rough spot and is in the ICU at UW in Seattle. Luke and Kent and Kent's wife Cathy and their daughter Ali need all the love and support they can get at this time.


Not Quite the Jersey Shore
Cassiel Chadwick, Cathy Chadwick, Kent Chadwick and Luke Chadwick

Kent is a masterful poet and has introduced to me and my son, a world of words and images. My brother, I love you and am in awe of your courage and patience, and in your rough hour I give you the words of a Jersey street poet and a Welsh writer - Springsteen and Dylan Thomas.

DO NOT GO GENTLE INTO THAT GOOD NIGHT
by Dylan Thomas


Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.