I also considered the advice I wish I would have received early in my career in higher education, spurring me to write this piece. It appeared that Downie was truly savouring the moment, as he made his way to all sides of the stage, quietly acknowledging the loud love cast his way.įor days, I couldn’t shake the image of Downie fully engaged, embracing that special moment with head raised high, juxtaposed against the unsolicited advice I received shortly after I obtained my doctorate and secured a tenure-track position as an assistant professor. Why this piece?Īs I watched the band quietly exit the stage, leaving the lone frontman with head raised strong, staring into the crowd of cheering and adoring fans, something tugged at my core. The Hip’s music was always in the backdrop of my life in academia, like a soundtrack and the fact that the soundtrack would change, made me realize (as cliché as it sounds) that life is short. The beloved and compelling poet and singer, only a little older than me, thrust me into facing my own mortality and the choices I made while on the path to tenure. Walking home from one of the band’s final Toronto shows, prompted by the host of emotions unearthed by the show and by Downie, I reflected heavily on the past decade of my life. Just over a year ago, the announcement of Downie’s inoperable and terminal brain cancer, launched outcries from saddened fans, cancer fundraising campaigns, and a Canadian farewell tour where the band could connect with each other, their music, and their fans one last time. Still a Tragically Hip fan, I continue to relate to the band’s more “grown-up” lyrics where they write about being tired as f***, the fleeting nature of life, and intentions to make that call. Like many other young Canadians in the crowded room, I related to the band’s songs that captured living in a small town, denim jackets, long hair, and getting kicked when they were down.įast forward 30 years – I’m not so young anymore, but much to my younger self’s chagrin, I am still trying to navigate adulthood and yes, still trying to navigate the university world, although this time as a recently tenured associate professor. At the time, the shaggy-haired and quirky Gord Downie, The Hip’s charismatic frontman, captivated the university audience crammed into the local watering hole, with exaggerated body moves and poet-like commentary on life. During my undergraduate degree, like a rite of Canadian passage, I saw what would be my first of many concerts by The Tragically Hip, the Canadian iconic band from Kingston, Ontario. My life as an undergraduate student conjures up a wide array of memories and emotions, largely entangled with the struggles and joys of navigating both the university and young adulthood worlds.
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