I think one of the most amazing feelings in the world is being able to crawl out a bedroom window, sit on the top of the roof of your house and watch the city in front of you. I first became aware of this sensation when I lived in a very shady neighbor hood one summer. (...and I mean SHADY!!! This is the same neighbor where four houses down a dude got four gunshot wounds to the chest and was back home from the hospital in two weeks...which means either the guy is super tough or he was shot with an air rifle. Who the heck survives four bullets to the chest plate? But either way, after that I decided it was better to move back to campus) My room was on the second floor of the house and the wall that was framed the house had two windows which led directly to a small outshoot which was actually the roof for our front patio. There were no screens on these windows (...probably because the house was constructed well before the wheel was even thought of) so access to this rooftop getaway was quite simple. It started because I was not allowed to smoke in the house (...which in retrospect would probably have actually helped the smell inside), I would crawl out there to have a cigarette and found myself beginning to just enjoy sitting out there watching our neighborhood. I would often turn up the stereo or take the guitar out with me and just hang out. My girlfriend at the time would come over and we would occasionally sit out there and talk...and yes it was just talking...trust me...you didn't want to get caught messing around outside in this part of town. But it wasn't until a new house that sitting on rooftops really became a favored pastime of mine.

At the end of college, I moved out of my campus apartment and moved in with a friend and his family. This was one of my close friends and the house was shared with his mom, two younger sisters and another friend who didn't have any place to stay. It was quite weird but at the same time was one of the most amazing experiences to this day. My room was again on the second floor and there were two windows which after removing the screens from the frames (...apparently this house was a bit younger than the previous...but not by much) would provide passage way to my elevated retreat. I loved sitting on that roof. I was no longer smoking so most times I was just sitting. It was a perfect spot to watch the sunset. But there was something that was more special about these experiences. While living at this particular house, I had become very good friends with someone who shared numerous nights with me sitting out there watching the skyline and just talking. This was someone who was very special to me. I remember one night the two of us actually fell asleep out there after spending a significant amount of time talking (...this neighborhood was a bit more private than the preceding neighborhood).

This is really tough for me to write. Not because I currently reside in a ground level room which whose window looks directly into the neighbors' white wooden fence. (...and it's a lovely fence...come over some time and we'll sit and admire it!) I mean, I miss sitting on the rooftops. I would be out on one all the time if I could...rain or shine. But the other day I realized that what made these times so intrinsically important to my life was the people they were shared with. It was the conversations, the kisses, the moments of silence watching the sun depart from the sky as it welcomed the moon to light the night with a pale glow. To be sure, there were great moments of my own personal solitude on these raised man-made vistas...and I actually no longer talk to my now ex-girlfriend, and I'm not sure if I'll ever get the chance to see my close friend again...but in the end it was these people that shared hours upon hours on those rooftops that made it so memorable. And it is also what makes it so difficult. Thinking about these moments reminds me of one really brutal truth. Life keeps moving. The truth is that I appreciate more than ever the times I spent sitting outside my bedroom windows with both of those people. But simply put...those are gone and they are not coming back. In some ways of I've learned to "let go." I've learned to embrace the fact that there are people I've fallen in love with and then broke their hearts. I made promises and broke them...but it's more than that. This isn't just some sort of diatribe against the fury of life that has led me to a state of regret and dismay over lost romantic relationships. This is the painful realization that all communal relationships at any stage are going to end. Even to be as existential as it is to say, in the end everyone dies...so all relationships are going to end. But I'm not quite that depressed right now...close...but not there yet.

What am I trying to say. I'm not really sure actually. Over the last couple of years I've come to the realization that I have dealt with a lot of death...both literal and figurative. Just recently a friend of mine got married. It was one of those "high-school sweetheart" type things...except I think they had just started college when they started dating...but you get the idea. But this bro, was my best friend in California. I use to tell my mom how Jesse would be my best man in my wedding...and this was a mutual feeling. Needless to say...I didn't even make it to the wedding. I did get an invite...but lack of finances and being on the other side of the freak'n country made that trip a bit difficult. It was just weird to get pictures of a wedding that for a long time I thought I would have been a part of. Life keeps moving. Or then there is Parker Tanner. Parker is probably one of the most influential people in my life...considering he is the one who taught me the first two chords I ever knew on the guitar. And since I've been playing guitar for something like 11 years now, it's safe to say those two chords went a long way. (I now know like 3 or 4 chords...which is apparently all you need to write bad music...which mine is.) So I was like 12 years old when I first started my preparation for entry into the vast expanse of musical expression and Parker was to me the epitome of cool. All he played was Fender Stratocaster electric guitars. As far as he was concerned that was the only guitar to play. I remember the first time that I had a "lesson" with Parker. We met in the church auditorium of Grace Church in Desert Hot Springs, California. Also present was another boy, who I always viewed as the "cool kid." And this particular time was no different...he showed up with his cool acoustic guitar and me...well...I had not yet come to possess a fine musical instrument. But it is what happened at the end that has stuck with me. As I was getting ready to leave Parker inquired as to the current status of my instrument. I told him that I didn't have one. He then looked at me and said, "well, why don't you just take this one." I couldn't believe it. This was an American Fender Stratocaster with a black body and a Classic White pickguard and was made with a maple neck. I can still remember the smell from the guitar case when someone would open it and reach down and pull the guitar out. From that moment on Parker has been the coolest guy to me...ever.

It was about 4 or 5 years ago now. I was walking up the stairs from my bedroom in the basement of my parents' house in Michigan. My dad was at the top of the stairs crying. He proceeded to inform me that he had just received a phone call from a friend in California telling him that Parker had passed away. Parker left behind two awesome boys, a great wife...and one admiring youth he taught to play guitar.

Life does not stop. It sucks horribly. God, it sucks. People are going to move away. They will break up with you. Friends will spread rumors with you. And people who were always there for...well...they are going to die. That is the truth of it. And it is that truth that so many of us keep trying to deny...or just simply like to pretend isn't there. We all know it exists. Seriously, just read some of the bulletins from people on myspace who are using the medium to spread an invective rant towards a former friend who moved them from the number 3 spot on their top friends. Or try playing pool with a friend who just got back into town drunk, because he spent all week at his grandfather's funeral. Or if you're still not convinced, shoot me a message and I'll type up page after page of story after story of people that have died, broke my heart, lied to me and about me, decided to move away, or just stopped calling and then mail it to you. This is the simple harsh truth about life...it ends. And that means that we have to deal with all the above stated. And I don't know how. Seriously. I would give anything to fall asleep on a roof again. I would gladly give away days on my life to spend more time with friends from Grand Rapids. I wish with every part of me I could sit down and play a song with Parker now...and show him how much I have learned and grown...and my sweet Fender Telecaster. But I can't. I'm not going to. And that hurts. But that is the ultimately why "rooftops" are so important.

The truth of the matter is that nothing is going to stop this. And I know better than anyone the hurt that comes along with saying goodbye (...or not getting to say goodbye). But that is actually why events like "rooftops" or playing guitar need to become so much more important to us. We need to learn to cherish those memories. It doesn't take the pain away. The pain is still going to be there...but the pain is actually a reminder of wholeness found in community and friendship. The pain makes us more aware of the good times. So there is actually a two-fold application to this.

Not only do we need to learn to appreciate the past times that have brought us close to people. We need to cherish the moments we are living in now. We need to genuinely slow down and take time to be with each other. Hold dearly to the moments you have with people. Learn to let go of trivial idiosyncrasies and petty quarrels and embrace the enjoyment of being loved and appreciated by friends and family. It's ok to be hurt about times past and people who have gone. But also celebrate the joys of that existence. Sometimes celebrating is crying. Sometimes celebrating is laughing. Ultimately though, the rooftops of our lives become some of the most important moments we will ever share with people.

What are the rooftops in your life?

Don't let them pass you by.

much love.