I’d see him every morning at the gym.
He looked fine. Great shape even.
He was a stage actor, Peter Donaldson, and I had recently seen him in a phenomenal performance of Timon of Athens.
It was one of those shows you go to and you leave changed.
I had always wanted to tell him this and thank him for that but could never muster up the courage.
Then I didn’t see him for a couple of weeks.
Then a couple more.
Then I heard he’d died.
Fuck.
It was then I decided that no matter how scared or intimidated I might be I would force myself to go up to people I admired, or who had changed or affected me positively in some way, and say… thank you.
To be truthful, this notion started years earlier.
I was at a record company party on a boat docked in Glasgow for the band Erasure.
They sang all of three songs. Just guitar and voice.
They were phenomenal.
I was flooded with emotion over how some of their songs had been life preservers for me.
People started to line up to meet them.
There are two members, Andy Bell and Vince Clarke.
Andy is an immense talent but I wanted to meet Vince.
Vince had been a founding member of Depeche Mode and written songs that took prominence in the soundtrack of my life at that point.
Suddenly, I was at the front of the line.
I cleared my throat and said “I just want to thank you for writing some amazing songs.”
He smiled and then asked if if it was a free bar and was my beer a Guinness.
It was and it was.
He asked for a drink from my still essentially full pint and proceeded to drink half in one go.
He handed me back the glass and said thanks and I was on my way to relay to my pals this weird interaction.
But my mission was accomplished.
Just by saying thank you, I felt I had paid a debt.
I had a chance to say thank you again last night.
Another stage actor by the name of Lee Siegel whose performance on one song in particular in the musical Rent made it difficult to catch my breath.
I said thank you.
He asked for what.
I told him I wanted to thank him for what he does and what he puts into the world.
It was a beautiful moment only marginally ruined by me following it up with telling him “Your performance was so good and hit my heart so much I was like… fuck you, Lee Siegel. Fuck you.”
I was two pints deep and I’m not always eloquent.
Regardless of how many pints you’ve had, tell the people who’ve positively impacted your life that they have.
As the recipient of some thank you’s, I can tell you it means a tremendous amount (this isn’t me fishing for thank you’s, honest).
It doesn’t matter how they take it.
You might be the first person to say it to them.
You might be the millionth.
When you meet someone you admire or who has made your life better and you think you don’t know what to say…
Just say, thank you.
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Thank you! (Hope to say it in person some day) I recently attended a concert by The Beaches. You probably know they’re a young all-women rock band from Toronto. They were great. My wife and I likely were the oldest in attendance (retirees that we are), unlike the folk music concerts we attend here in Kingston, ON at which we appear to be the youngest in attendance (in our eyes, at least). Anyway, leaving the building, I saw two band members crossing the street to their tour bus and shouted to them, “Great show!” One actually turned and shouted back, “Thank you!” Made my day (if the show hadn’t been great enough already).
When my book The End of Detroit came out in 2003, I was Googling about it as one does and discovered a rock band had named themselves after my book. How cool is that! I tracked down the lead singer and thanked him for the tribute. Apparently, they were Googling for possible band names, found my book title, and took it. (It had nothing to do with the content, but hey, that’s fine.) Fast forward to last month. I wrote a piece about the UAW strike, and the singer posted a comment under the story. The band has long since broken up, but he was tickled that I had reached out back then to thank him. I was delighted that he remembered, and took the time to comment.