Читать книгу Strange Way to Live - Carl Dixon - Страница 6

Carl Dixon and I first met in January 1985, when I opened for Coney Hatch at The Misty Moon in Halifax, Nova Scotia. That was the first official “Gowan” gig ever played, and we hit it off well with the fine fellows of the headline act. I discovered that Carl (like myself) was not only a devoted musician but also an overlooked, undrafted hockey player. This cemented our bond immeasurably. We’ve shared the ice and stage for years since that first meeting, and he’s always proven to be a pal who knows how to pass the puck as well as make a guitar do what it’s designed to do. He also sings exceedingly well and maintains a head of hair that’s well suited to his vocation (see photos on pages 1 through 10,000). He’s built a fine existence that could easily have come to a sad conclusion after he suffered a terrible accident but he chose instead not to allow that dark day to redefine him. His own definition and sense of purpose were clearly intact long before fate attempted to shut him down. How he overcame that incident is a remarkable tale, and you should read about it. This book you’re holding is a perfect place to start that process, followed by an immediate trip to see and hear him play (either music or hockey, your choice).

If I were to attempt to distill the essence of Carl’s story, it would come down to the simple yet complex phrase: Keep going. That’s likely the essence of all great stories, though I can’t be certain since I’ve yet to hear them all. Keep going, and once you’ve done that: Keep rocking. In the ongoing story of Carl Dixon, that’s one of the main reasons he’s still alive.

P.S.: He has a legendary set of balls, which I understand are still intact.