There I am, rocketing along in my nicked-up C30 Volvo, belting out the chorus to Jeff Healey’s Angel Eyes: So tonight I’ll ask the stars above / “How did I ever win your love?” / What did I do / What did I say / To turn your angel eyes my way. To fully appreciate this, you have to understand that I can’t sing. The choir master at the boarding school I briefly attended asked me to sing softly. Healey died at 41 from the same cancer that stripped him of his eyesight at age two. What a mensch.
Passions are private and personal. Compassion is public and impersonal, an imbued and universal power which cannot be pluralized, commodified or run up a flag pole and saluted. It’s a love song, a gift of the heart, and it’s singing now.