A cooling fire

Three deaths in the Austin community were related this last week. Stephen Bruton, Bud Shrake and Poodie Locke all touched based on an 80s movie called "Songwriter," via writing, appearances and the presence of Willie Nelson in the film.

But their passing is a major reminder. Although their deaths are punches to the heart for those who knew them personally, they should also be a persistent tap on the shoulder for those of us who loved an Austin they represented on a much wider scale.

The three were key components to an Austin that was about art, be it music or letters. They were also about life that is like music, impressive and inspiring to be done hard, fast and full but with a realization of the critical component that is the easy, quiet spaces in between.

And although it may sound like old man nostalgia, I fear it's an Austin that is almost gone.

It's an Austin that's been fading. I picture it in the mid-1970s. I didn't even live here, but had to visit every three months or so from Dallas-Fort Worth for another baptism. It was a time of transition for all of Texas. Generations had grown up if not entirely rural, with a deep tap to the rural roots. But cities were exploding and those base values were proving more and more difficult to keep in sight.

It was then and here in Austin that an amalgamation which already had an excellent base took hold. It recognized the value of urban knowledge, but didn't disdain country. It wasn't just in music, although that was a key outlet. It was in literature that used Texas as a base to talk about the modern human condition. The two artistic communities intertwined, maybe too often over potions and powders that were bound to run down the consumers. But it was like shooting stars burning unbelievably bright to astound viewers.

Austin was a place where it was possible. The atmosphere was more tolerant for odd and misbehavior. Someone looking for their voice could simply afford it. There were affordable places to nurture and visit and take a chance.

I find it very hard to find anymore. Simple survival in Austin is much tougher. It seems the more we struggle to simply stay alive, the less ability and remaining will we have to live and express life.

At the same time old wood frame houses sheltered by 100-year-old oaks crumble under the weight of 40-story condominium towers, written words seem to become lighter and lighter. Finding a hearty affordable meal is washed away with wine and sushi bars and music becomes less about lyrics and more about rhythms only. Country life is considered owning a mini-ranch in Dripping Springs close enough to the new HEB to fetch a quart of milk at 9 p.m. Living the quick and dangerous life is subordinate to ensuring you're in line with the decibel limit and curfew.

There are other icons of Austin as an artistic place for whom timing is ticking away. And there's simply not that many I can identify who look to take their place when the torch is passed. I just hope the fuel isn't running out and that torch isn't extinguished.