When I first heard the news that Brian Delp had died, my first thought was that the news agencies weren't giving us the whole story. And a week later, I received confirmation that my initial thought was correct: Brian Delp committed suicide.
His death saddened me. His music filled my high school years (and I know that dates me). I played Boston over and over and over again on my portable record player. When my brother and I sunned ourselves on the rickety wooden deck that overlooked our backyard, Boston was one of the records we played.
When I went into the Army and was in Basic or AIT (those months just sort of blend together), my brother went to a Day On The Green without me. Boston was the headlining group. He bought a T-shirt, which he wore and wore and wore (like young men do). When he realized how much I had wished I had been able to go to that concert, he gave me the shirt, now ragged from wear.
I still have that shirt. It's worn and wrinkled and riddled with holes from years of washing, and yet I hold on to it, because it reminds me of summer days and a time when my brother and I actually got along.
I know Boston hasn't had a hit in years and years, but in my mind they still ruled the world of rock.
Good-bye Brian. Even though your music will go on forever in my mind, your presence on this earth will be missed.