Mary Jane's Last Dance

I found Tom Petty as a young teen because of his duet with Stevie Nicks. ("Stop Dragging My Heart Around.") He was one of my crushes. The Postman remains one of my favorite films (in spite of Costner making one of the only post-apocalyptic novels with women doing useful things in it into a he-man, manly fest of manly) because Tom appeared in it. When I first came into the goth scene, the man I wanted so much to impress sorted through my music collection and placed all of my Tom Petty with the fluffy pop stuff in the To Be Sold pile. Mouse that I was, I quietly moved Tom Petty off that stack and back onto my shelves. (I did the same with a few others.) A year later, I convinced my goth circles of Petty's amazingness.[1] And I did it with American Girl and Silence of the Lambs. Of course, the video for Mary Jane's Last Dance backed me up shortly thereafter.

Tom Petty was with me through so many transitions in my life--my first breakup, my first apartment, moving to Austin entirely on my own--I found myself over and over through breakups and low times. Tom was always there in the background like the steady, reassuring whir of highway on a long drive. I'm going to miss knowing he's out there. At least I've his music. Thank you, Tom, for that. Seriously, Thank you.

Too many of my music heroes are dead now. David Bowie, Prince, George Harrison, Tom Petty, Chris Cornell, Layne Staley, Kurt Cobain, Andrew Wood, Scott Weiland, Doug Hopkins, and Stefanie Sargent. Someone please place a protective bubble around Stevie Nicks, Cyndi Lauper, Madonna, Patti Smith, Joan Jett, Chrissie Hynde, Peter Murphy, Gary Numan, Aimee Mann, Toni Halliday, and Elizabeth Fraser. At least don't let 2017 touch them. Please.

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[1] He looked askance at me for my Alice in Chains, Stevie Nicks, and Fleetwood Mac, but I turned him around on those too.