Last night I saw my favorite band, Depeche Mode, in concert.  And after the first encore, Gwenn and I left (missing out on “Personal Jesus” and “Waiting for the Night”) so we could be beat the traffic.  It’s called the “Pull Out Concert Method”.

It wasn’t because the show was bad, we just wanted to get our kicks on Route 29 for the 1 1/2 hour drive home.  Yes, Gwenn and I are getting old.  Or smart.  You decide.

Missing out on the bumper-to-bumper traffic was awesome, and so was the show, of course.  As it always does at a DM show, it hit me that I’m still here to see my favorite band 19 years after that Make-A-Wish encounter.  It’s not that I think I won’t make it to the next tour, it’s just that this band’s music is so interconnected with those early years of my diagnosis, a bond that was sealed when they were my “dying wish”. Now, it was a bit different. 

I’m not surprised so much at my own survival as I am at theirs. They are still here, in an industry that is dying, a synthpop act from Basildon can still draw 15,000 people.  And it was lead singer Dave Gahan’s health problems over the last few months that would have prevented me from seeing them in concert, not my own “pets”.

I’ve vowed that as long as they are touring, and I am breathing, I will be there when Depeche Mode hits the road.  Even if it means hitting the road prematurely to get back home to the incredible, adult life that I’ve been so fortunate to live to see.

Positively Yours,