If you are a Rush fan, as many folks who read my blog happen to be, you know that one of the things I always liked about Alex, Geddy, and Neil was that they were family men. That's unusual in the music industry. But on the occasions when I saw the guys with their families, it was obvious to me there was a genuine bond. Living the life of a rock musician meant each of the guys was out on the road a lot. But I knew they loved their wives and kids. And I knew they loved their parents.
I was thinking about parenting this week, partly because Father's Day is coming up, and partly because of the sad news that Neil's dad Glen lost his battle with cancer the other day. I would be lying if I said I spent a lot of time with the Peart family over the years, but when I did speak with them, they were very warm and very courteous, and I liked them a lot. I last saw Glen and Betty in person during the after-party at the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame in 2013. It was so obvious to me how protective Neil felt towards them. And when Neil passed last January, Glen and I exchanged emails several times. Glen was a dear human being, and it is no cliché to say that he will be missed.
Society has long stereotyped what a "good" father is. If you watch old movies or old TV shows, you see fathers represented as men who make a respectable living. Men who know how to keep their kids in line. Men who are tough during a crisis. Even in our modern and somewhat more egalitarian world, where men sometimes help with dinner or change a diaper, fathers are still expected to know how to fix stuff around the house, and to be the problem-solvers.
My father, and I am sure Neil's father, and many fathers of that generation, were taught that version of fatherhood. And of course, there's nothing wrong with making a living or knowing how to fix something. But there's a lot more to being a good father. I think fathering is about ethics: it's about teaching one's kids to be honorable human beings and to do the right thing. I can certainly say that even though I never really got along with my father, he was an ethical person, and that was something I admired about him.
By all accounts, that's how Glen Peart was too-- an ethical person. And based on my conversations with Neil, he too respected that quality. I still remember a conversation I had with Neil in 2010, when he told me he wished he had been around more for his daughter from his first marriage, and how determined he was to not repeat that mistake with his young daughter Olivia. When he retired from Rush to spend more time with his wife and daughter, I know how serious he was about that... how much he wanted to be a positive presence in Olivia's life-- not just a paycheck, but a person who was there for her.
The other day, I found a letter my father wrote to me back in 1970, when I was away from home, attending a summer institute at Indiana University. The words seemed a lot like my mother's, but the sentiments were definitely my father's. He said he was sorry we weren't getting along, and he said he wanted us to try to communicate better. Over the years, periodically, we'd stop speaking to each other, and then we'd resume after a while. He never fully understood my need to move away and pursue my broadcasting career. But he learned to accept it. I'd like to believe he was proud of me.
If you saw the movie "Beyond the Lighted Stage," you know that Neil's family had to accept the fact that Neil preferred a career as a rock and roll drummer, rather than working in the parts department at his father's farm equipment store. When Neil had a chance to become a member of Rush, his dad could have stopped him, but Glen understood how important being a musician was to his son. And so it was that both my dad and Neil's dad sent their kids out into the world with a strong sense of ethics to serve as a guide in difficult times.
And as we come to another Father's Day, I send my love to all the fathers who are willing to listen, the fathers who spend time with their kids, and the fathers who are willing to accept it when their kid chooses a different career path from the one that was expected. I send my enduring thanks to my own father, of blessed memory, for the lessons he taught me, lessons I still use to this day. And I send my condolences to Neil's family: Glen did a fine job as a father; and how well Neil and his siblings turned out is certainly proof of that.