Last week, on October 20, 2021, on what would have been Tom Petty's 71st birthday, Joe and I went to the Belcourt Theatre for the world premiere of his the new documentary about the making of his seminal album, Wildflowers. The documentary, "Somewhere You Feel Free," was shown at theaters worldwide for one day only.
Tom Petty, of course, was my guy, and the Heartbreakers were my band. His death four years ago on October 2, 2017, crushed me. As I've said before - and I'm stealing this quote from Jason Isbel - his music was the soundtrack to my life, in so many ways.
This post isn't about that, though, at least not entirely. What this post is about is how the music Tom Petty created over a 40 + year career has strengthened the bond between Joe, 9, and me.
Joe loves Tom Petty and Heartbreakers in the say way I do. I can't explain it other than to quote Emily Dickinson in saying "the heart wants what it wants." Joe's his own man - always has been - so I don't believe he's a Tom Petty fan because I am. Something about the songs, and the music, speak to him and touch his heart. Just like his old man.
J.P., Joe, and I share a lot of things, like a love of sports. Some things, though, I share more with one or the other, and that's okay, too. J.P. and I read the His Dark Material Trilogy (Philip Pullman), loved it, and discussed it at length during the first year of the pandemic. Joe and I are share a love for Tom Petty's music.
I had purchased tickets a few weeks ago, almost as an afterthought, when I saw an Instagram post about it on Tom Petty's feed. I was excited - and so was Joe - when the stars lined up and I didn't have a conflict on my calendar.
I left the office early and picked Joe up from school, then zipped over to the Belcourt. I've been a member over the years and it's my favorite venue to watch a movie. Several times over the years, I've slipped out after the boys were in bed and walked or biked down to the Belcourt, my myself, to watch an independent film or documentary.
Once, Jude took me to see Lucinda Williams play guitar and sing, with her father reading original poems in between her songs. Now that was a night I'll never forget, particularly since I was so sick with the flu I could barely sit up straight. Still, one of the best shows I've ever seen.
The theater was at half capacity for the matinee screening, which made me feel more comfortable being there with Joe. Also, everyone was masked up, thankfully. It felt a bit odd to be back in a movie theater for the first time in more than 18 months. I've missed the communal experience of watching a movie together with strangers. Such a human thing to do.
Joe was, by far, the youngest person in the theater. Any doubts I had about how he would handle watching a documentary film were quickly erased, as I could see he was transfixed by the footage of Tom Petty and the band rehearsing songs that made their way onto Wildflower. The studio footage, the interviews (then and now), all of it. Joe watched intently, smiling as images of Tom Petty playing some of his favorite songs flickered on the screen in front of him.
Of course, I smiled, nodded my head, and tapped my foot to the music. All of these great songs on Wildflower, released on November 1, 1994, when I was in Knoxville, in my second year of law school, 28 years old. Even now, when I hear one of the songs on the album, my mind immediately expects the next song, in sequence, to be played. That's how many times I listened to that album when it was released.
Joe and I fist bumped each other several times during the move when a song we loved was played. When the movie ended, the audience clapped, and Joe and I stood up from out seats near the front and began to walk to the exit in back of the theater. I saw more than a few people with tears in their eyes or on their cheeks.
As Joe and I walked outside into the setting sun of a beautiful fall evening, I took his hand in mine and asked him how he liked the movie.
"It was awesome," he replied. "I almost cried a couple of times, because it was sad, but I smiled a whole lot, too."
"Me, too," I said, as I marveled at the purity of Joe's innocence at 9 years of age, his way with words and his true, true heart.
I held his hand a little tighter and we walked to my truck in the falling twilight.
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