I’m not sure what prompted me to go home Halloween weekend 1993, but I did. I only remember this because River Phoenix died in the wee small hours of that morning. The news hadn’t hit the Midwest when I left the Twin Cities in the early afternoon, but must have hit full force by the time I got back to Eau Claire two hours later.
Since this was pre-widespread Internet use and pre-cellphones news travelled the old-fashioned way by TV and telephone. I learned about River Phoenix’s death when my friend Whitley called to tell me. Or maybe I got my Mom’s call first. I know it wasn’t Jodi Hanson’s call first, but maybe it was Nikki’s. I don’t remember exactly. All I do know is that my friends and family were curious I was handling the death of someone I fell in love with sometime in 1987. A love that I very clearly communicated to anyone who would listen.
Today, I’m getting that deja vu feeling with the news that Bret Michaels is in critical condition with a brain hemorrhage. Once again my friends and family have flooded me with the news of Bret’s condition. Again, I guess I’m not subtle with voicing my affection. Even Sister #2 asked if I was, and I quote, “freaking out.”
I’m not freaking out. I’m concerned. It’s the kind of concern I’d have for any person I never met but who had entertained me for many hours.
What I’m really curious about is how long it takes to recover from something like this. FFJ and I have tickets for his June 4th concert at the Medina Ballroom. Is a brain hemorrhage something that you walk away from and start rocking out on stage a mere six weeks later?