Stevie Nicks doesn’t write lyrics: she lands them hard.
She has that rare gift of dropping a line that hits like a rake across the heart. No warning, no softness, just truth scratched into you before you even realize what happened. “And the days go by like a strand in the wind…” that is one of those lines.
December makes it feel even sharper. Short days, long nights, the whole world dimming early while the clock keeps moving whether you are keeping up or not.
In today’s grabber is the Latin, Magnus Frater, “big brother.” Titles that old don’t fade but thicken with time. You carry them whether you want to or not, and most of the time you are grateful you have someone out ahead of you swinging the machete through life’s brush.
So here is the birthday message carried on that wind down I-65:
Happy Birthday to my Big Brother, Bob McCutcheon, down in Indianapolis. Bob helped get me from Point A to Point B during my Exile in Indy. He guided me through the edge of seventeen.
Magnus Frater... today and always.
We are getting near the end of the two weeks of 4:20 sundown's in Chicagoland.
Soon the days will slowly get longer and bags of wrapping paper will be in the garbage can in the alley.
Stay warm and walk like a penguin, it might be slick out there today.
