fifteen
Sometime in 2005: 14-year-old me discovered a band called Jack’s Mannequin, thanks to the wonders of commercials on MTV2. Little did I know that that one album would change my life for the better and be the crutch I needed to help me come to terms about my mom’s breast cancer diagnosis.
August 23, 2020: 29-year-old me forgot that the five-year pressing of “Everything In Transit” featured two bonus tracks: the “West Coast Winter” version of “La La Lie” and an a capella version of “Holiday From Real.” It was a pleasant surprise when I gave that copy a ceremonial spin earlier.
I’ve waxed poetic at length before about that particular record, going into massive detail about its impact on my life. It was a piece about a record I was thankful for.
When I wrote that piece almost six years ago, I was in a darker place. I wasn’t on an SSRI. I wasn’t in therapy. I was still trying to find some light in the world. A lot can change in six years, but I am still thankful for “Everything In Transit.”
Hitting the 15-year milestone is important, not just for the sake of a record, but when you’re talking about cancer recovery. My mom hit her 15-year “cancerversary” in January, shortly before the pandemic started to unfold. She’s found inspiration in Andrew’s music just as much as I have. She’s also attended every show I’ve seen featuring Andrew McMahon, including our first Jack’s Mannequin show in 2008, the Something Corporate reunion in 2010 and the “Ten Years of Transit” tour.
McMahon, the brain, the heart and the soul behind “Everything In Transit” has been cancer-free for 15 years. He found out about his leukemia diagnosis a few months before the album’s release.
In his own words, (almost) 15 years later:
“The first five years were pretty turbulent, and was just this kind of trying to deny that it happened and running a million miles an hour in the other direction. The next five were really about trying to get my shit together. I went to therapy, and I started trying to really tackle that. These last three or four years have I think, benefited greatly just from having taken the time and realizing that that had such an impact on me, and trying to be able to I think, in these last four or five years, settle into that life and be able to look back on the post-cancer years to be, like, ‘wow, I’ve made a lot of amazing memories, and I’ve created the life that I’ve got now from the one that I had before.’ That, more than anything, has shaped my worldview and the way that I approach each day. It didn’t all happen at once. It really was a process.”
That quote was from when I interviewed him at the end of last year.
In a sense, I’ve spent the last 15 years trying to deny that my mom’s cancer diagnosis completely turned my family upside down. I’m in therapy now trying to “get my shit together,” and I’m learning how to grieve. I’m benefitting from that, because it’s a difficult process to get through. Especially in the middle of a pandemic when you’re not seeing your therapist in person, and only get to chat with her during virtual sessions.
As a side note, having cathartic cry sessions in therapy while sitting in front of your computer isn’t exactly ideal in this sort of situation. Then again, when has learning to grieve ever been easy?
It is one of the hardest processes I’ve ever encountered. It’s going through those feelings that I had repressed over the years trying to convince myself everything was going to be okay. Opening up old scars only to watch them heal again. Actually going through and feeling those feelings that I thought I had hidden away.
It’s a process I’m still working through, while trying to navigate all that 2020 has thrown at the world.
There’s just one thing that still remains absolutely set in stone: the fact that I’m still here today. The fact that I was able to find solace in an album that kept me going through the rough days, even 15 years later.
There’s just something about “Everything In Transit” that has helped me cope over the years. Maybe it’s the sunny disposition of 95% of the songs on the album. Maybe it’s the fact that it’s a concept album, designed to embody the California beach vibes that make it impossible not to be sad. It’s a perfect Summer album, and I’ve said that for as long as I can remember.
To quote me, (almost) six years ago on the song “Holiday From Real”:
Sometimes it’s just good to get away from reality. Especially when your brain is in a rough spot, and you just need an escape. Listening to this song transports me away from my bad thoughts and brings me to a boardwalk on a beach. It’s oddly calming.
It’s an album that allowed me to escape the real world for a bit and feel like I was on a boardwalk at the beach. The album’s beachy vibes are still strong, no matter what season you listen to it in.
What has changed in the last six years since I originally waxed poetic about “Everything In Transit,” or even the last 15 years since its release? A lot!
I’m in a stable, healthy relationship, with a partner who (funnily enough) does not care for Andrew’s music, but understands its importance in my life. I’m not trying to heal from previous breakups. I’m happily trying to better myself thanks to everything the world has thrown at me. I’m in therapy! I’m on Prozac!
If Future Me were to go back in time six years and show Old Me that I’m thriving, finding happiness in the world, I’m in therapy and on Prozac, Old Me would’ve shrugged all that off and maybe laughed about how I was fine and didn’t need help back then (I probably did).
Some things will probably never change.
I’m still an “anxious, pessimistic optimist,” but I think that comes with the job territory. Working in journalism’s enough to put anybody on edge, bring about large bouts of anxiety and have you constantly worrying about the state of things, hoping that they’ll eventually get better.
“Into the Airwaves” is still my go-to song when I’m feeling down, and need a reminder to not panic. I have my good days and my bad days. I’m gonna have hard days. Since the start of the pandemic, I’ve realized just how true that is when I can’t really go anywhere to clear my head.
If a “15 Years of Transit” tour had happened this year, I probably would’ve attended. In a sense, I’ve already attended a concert celebrating the album’s fifteenth birthday, if you count watching a livestream of a drive-in concert “attending” a show. But hey! It’s 2020. If that’s the only way concerts are (safely!) happening in the United States, it counts.
Just for fun, here’s some bonus photos: Me, in 2013, meeting Andrew for the first time. I look dead in the eyes in most photos from 2013. Not this one! There’s light in my eyes. My dimple is prominent. I’ve got a genuine smile on my face.
Here’s another photo, this time from 2018. This was about two months before I started working in Charlottesville, and this was more of a chance encounters. Instead of waiting outside the venue after the show, my mom and I ran into him when we were out doing some shopping.
