RIP Chris Cornell: The Greatest Voice of My Generation

This morning I woke up to the news that one of my heroes died.

I didn't visibly worship Chris Cornell the same way I have people like Slash, Carrie Fisher, or Ann Wilson. I actually know very little about Cornell, but he certainly made more of an impact on me than most. I watched him emerge as a raw vocal talent on Soundgarden's Louder than Love and then morph into who I consider to be the greatest rock vocalist of my generation.

The first time I listened to Badmotorfinger, his voice devastated me - in the best possible way and has captivated me ever since.  To this day, when no one is looking I'll blast "Slaves and Bulldozers," and screech it at the top of my lungs, trying to emulate that searing voice but failing miserably. When I was 17 and working at the Ralphs grocery store in San Dimas, I willingly went into the far corners of the vast parking lot to retrieve carts because it meant I could loudly sing "Call Me a Dog" without anyone hearing. The one car accident I've been in while behind the wheel (knock on wood), occurred while I was listening to an acoustic version of "Like Suicide." I swore up and down that the radio was not the reason I didn't hear that ambulance coming -- but yeah, I may have been a little distracted while singing along with Chris. 

Badmotorfinger  (along with Appetite for Destruction), set a perfect backdrop for my high school angst. Temple of the Dog comforted my high school depression. Superunknown and Down on the Upside tempered the restlessness of college. Cornell's solo album Euphoria Mourning was the soundtrack of my confused post-college existence. No, I never went over the top crazy with idol worship, but Chris Cornell has always been a reliable ally. 

I only saw Chris Cornell live twice. I went to a Soundgarden concert at the Olympic Auditorium on the Superunknown tour, and attended a solo show at the Wiltern. The main thing I remember about the Wiltern is my confused stoner cousin repeatedly screaming out "play 'Rusty Cage' or something!" But the guttural screams of "Slaves and Bulldozers" that filled the Olympic are still ringing in my head some two decades later. 

Some of the early reports indicate his death may be a suicide, and it pains me to think of anyone feeling that hopeless. It especially hurts to know that someone who has given me so much comfort for almost 30 years could not find the same. 

Rest in Peace, and thank you. 

Celebrating a Decade of Marriage (And Not Worrying About Health Insurance)

Today marks 10 years since Josh and I were married. This might be confusing for many friends and family who attended our (awesome) wedding at Ann Dvorak’s estate on October 20, 2007. The truth is that on May 4 of that year, Josh and I headed to the county clerk’s office in East Los Angeles and were married by a gravelly-voiced woman with a teased bleached mane and over-sized dark glasses. She ended the ceremony by proclaiming, “Go ahead and kiss her, she ain’t your girlfriend anymore!” I still love her.

This civil ceremony was hastily planned. We didn’t have rings, I grabbed a dress out of the closet to wear, and threw my hair in a pony-tale. The reason for the rushed matrimony that we’ve referred to as the “secret wedding” for a decade?

Josh needed health insurance.

When I met Josh, he was on the cusp of ditching his crappy day job, and being a full time comic book writer. He had thrown caution and practicality to the wind, something I have never been able to do, followed his dreams, and was on his way to achieving them. Unfortunately, when one follows their dreams in this country, it’s often without health insurance. While his career was shaping up nicely, his health was a mess.

He had been diagnosed with diabetes a couple of years before. At the time I met him, he had gotten to the point where he was self managing it with occasional trips to the free clinic. He was getting sick with various bugs all the time. His outstanding medical bills had gone to collection and his credit was so shot because of hospital visits that we bought everything in my name for years.

During those first few months I knew him, his health deteriorated even further and his need for insurance was dire. There was no way in hell that a guy with a pre-existing condition like diabetes was going to be able to get covered on his own. We were already planning our wedding at the Ann Dvorak estate, but his health had become so compromised that we were fearful he wouldn't live long enough to plan the "perfect" ceremony. And so, we scheduled our secret wedding.

It’s something we have both felt weird about for years. Should we let people know? When is our “real” anniversary? Josh was afraid I would resent him (I never have). I was fearful we were committing some major wedding etiquette breach (mainly because I read some stupid etiquette book that castigated our exact situation). At this point, who cares? He’s the love of my life, we’ve been married for a decade, and no one should have to agonize over health care choices. 

The Affordable Care Act may not be perfect (personally, I would have wanted single payer), but because of it, I have seen so many of our freelance friends finally get out from under that constant black cloud of being uninsured because they can’t afford it.

So, on the 10th anniversary of our hasty health insurance wedding, call your representatives and give them hell if they plan on voting in favor of the GOP health care bill!