This week started out rough. My husband called me as I pulled in to work Monday morning and I could tell something was wrong.
“Keith Flint is dead,” he said.
Keith Flint, the bigger than life frontman of The Prodigy, one of the most innovative groups of the ’90s, was gone. For those who may have been either too young to know better or their radio was broken for the whole of 1997, The Prodigy was one of the first electronic bands to break into mainstream music, who blended punk, rock, hip hop, and rave into a perfect mix (dubbed big beat) that appealed to fans of all of the above genres. It still amazes me looking back that this was something that actually happened. A song about being a “twisted fire starter” sung by a pierced, tattooed Brit with dueling purple and green Mohawks actually charted, was being played at hockey games, was loved by “weirdos” and “normals” alike. As someone who was always more interested in what the pierced girl with the dyed red hair who sat in front of me in class was reading rather than the boozy and loudly broadcasted weekend antics of the Lacrosse team (and they always seemed to be boozy), I naturally gravitated towards Keith Flint and The Prodigy. I loved the strange, artistic, funky, offbeat sort of people, especially if they were underdogs, teased in any way, or made to feel less than. Those were my people. So Keith Flint and The Prodigy making it “in” to be strange, their particular talents being so undeniable that even the masses recognized them, was a pretty big deal. Even my mom, not a fan of electronic music on the whole, declared herself a fan and still asks me to turn it up when Breathe comes on the radio. In short, this was a huge loss all around and for a lot of different people.
I went through my work day in a sort of stunned numbness until my husband texted me a few hours later on my lunch break:
“F**k. Luke Perry.”
“What?” I asked.
Luke Perry, better known as Dylan on the ’90s TV show Beverly Hills 90210, was the crush of every girl my age during our teen years, whether you were weird, non-weird, or somewhere in between. Luke Perry had had a stroke days earlier so his death wasn’t quite as unexpected as Flint’s, but it had just as big of an impact. For a 90s-loving girl like myself, this was a black day. Onyx.
I try to keep my GenJournal entries 98% genealogy, but it’s hard to mention this week without mentioning these deaths. Considering my blog is named Fading, But Not Forgotten, I’m giving myself a pass. There is no way these two men should be forgotten.
Bringing it back to genealogy, my cousin Anita and I have been corresponding by letter (remember letters?) over the last year. This week I received one from her with some great photos: one of my mom as a wee un with her cousins (not posting to “protect the innocent,” but I can tell you the innocent are adorable in this photo), one of some family members when they visited Italy, and one of my great-grandfather Giulio with a woman who my cousin thinks may be one of his sisters. There’s nothing like receiving “photo treasure” like this in the mail and I highly recommend you develop a correspondence with someone and experience it for yourself, if you are unfamiliar with the feeling!
That’s it from me. Until next week, may your DNA matches be many and your hunting be happy!