CARLTON FLETCHER: A fond and final farewell

“It seems to me a crime that we should age, These fragile times should never slip us by. A time you never can or shall erase, As friends together watch their childhood fly.”

— Elton John

It wasn’t just, as my friend suggested, that for the better part of three hours, I had no thought at all about work, about inflation, about the high cost of living or any other woes that often keep me up at night, although there was that.

No, sitting (on the floor, Row E, Seat 15), often mesmerized, as Elton John’s “Farewell Yellow Brick Road” show at Mercedes Benz Stadium in Atlanta — along with about 90,000 of my close friends — played out was about more than just getting lost in great music.

It was more like watching my life, from the teenage years to the present, play out before me.

I could go on and on about the songs and how this 75-year-old man, this truly living legend, summoned the energy to play them for an adoring crowd that was a microcosm of our ever-diversifying culture — old, young, black, white, Hispanic, Asian, gay (a lot of gay), straight. But it wasn’t just those amazing songs — “Tiny Dancer,” “Rocket Man,” “Candle in the Wind,” “Don’t Let the Sun Go Down on Me,” “The Bitch Is Back,” “Your Song,” “Someone Saved My Life Tonight,” even the stray non-hit album track “Have Mercy on the Criminal” and even the recent surprise No. 1 hit with Dua Lipa “Cold Heart.”

It went much deeper than that.

As Elton John, my musical idol on a level with The Beatles and Led Zeppelin from the first time I heard “Your Song” and “Tiny Dancer,” sang the soundtrack of my life, I remembered where I was when I first heard these magical records. I was caught up in the memories — some happy, some sad, some just regular old tidbits that matter to only me — and while there certainly was a large measure of nostalgia, especially when Sir Elton thanked the crowd, sang one last song and rode off, as it was, into the Georgia sunset, it was a surreal experience to have those tidbits come back to me so vividly.

Like listening to “Honky Chateau” during senior year football camp at South Georgia College … a 24-hour work/drive/pick up a friend/”Jump Up” concert/drive loop that started at 4 a.m. and ended at about the same time the next day … listening to the latest Elton album with football-playing buddies behind the Ocilla Dairy Queen … crying to the sad songs, using the fast ones to get pumped up for athletic competition … defiantly staring down some of my acquaintances who trended redneck when they chastised me for not getting rid of my records when Sir Elton came out (which is not so much a big deal today, but in the early ’70s? whew) … the pleasure of seeing Eminem duet with Elton at the Grammys … my brother telling me he was going to “whup my ass” if I played the “Empty Sky” album (at full volume) one more time …

There were those things and about a million more; again, mostly things that matter only to me. But watching Elton John play what he swore would be his last show ever in the state of Georgia, and seeing people of varying backgrounds sing along to every word, smiles of rapturous joy on their faces, I knew I was not alone.

Every couple of generations or so, there comes along a singer/songwriter/performer like this man, whose life has played out large and has intertwined and help shape the lives of perhaps millions of others.

When the “Farewell Yellow Brick Road” tour was announced, we quickly checked online for ticket prices. In all honesty, getting the seating we wanted was out of our budget. But we made the decision that this was one of those events that we didn’t just want to be a part of, we needed to be. No matter if I live another few days or even another couple of decades, I’ll always be glad we did.