{"id":1117,"date":"2014-02-06T00:16:32","date_gmt":"2014-02-06T00:16:32","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.sportspaper.org\/?p=1117"},"modified":"2014-02-06T04:16:40","modified_gmt":"2014-02-06T04:16:40","slug":"american-pies-ode-to-holly-stopped-time-and-brought-back-all-the-memories-good-and-bad","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/www.sportspaper.org\/?p=1117","title":{"rendered":"American Pie’s ode to Holly stopped time and brought back all the memories, good and bad."},"content":{"rendered":"

\"Terry<\/a><\/p>\n

TERRY MOSHER<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

I didn\u2019t miss the 55th anniversary of his death. I was sad when he died and it still feels the same \u00a0all these years later today as I write this. I was stunned, shocked and very sadden when the news spread that a plane carrying Buddy Holly had crashed and he had been killed.<\/p>\n

Holly was 22 when the plane went down in freezing Iowa weather in a cornfield near ClearLake in the early morning hours of Feb. 3, 1959. He, The Big Bopper, (J.P. Richardson), whose big hit was\u201cChantilly Lace,\u201d and Ritchie Valens (his major hit was \u201cLa Bamba\u201d) and pilot Roger Peterson were all killed.<\/p>\n

Don McLean in 1971 eulogized Holly with his hit song, \u201cAmerican Pie.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u00a0 <\/i><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u201cA long, long time ago<\/b><\/i><\/p>\n

\u00a0I can still remember how that music used to make me smile<\/i><\/b><\/p>\n

And I knew if I had my chance<\/i><\/b><\/p>\n

That I could make those people dance<\/i><\/b><\/p>\n

And maybe they\u2019d be happy for a while<\/i><\/b><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/i><\/b><\/p>\n

But February made me shiver<\/i><\/b><\/p>\n

With every paper I\u2019d deliver.<\/i><\/b><\/p>\n

Bad news on the doorstep<\/i><\/b><\/p>\n

I couldn\u2019t take one more step<\/i><\/b><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/i><\/b><\/p>\n

I can\u2019t remember if I cried<\/i><\/b><\/p>\n

When I read about his widowed bride<\/i><\/b><\/p>\n

But something touched me deep inside<\/i><\/b><\/p>\n

The day the music died<\/i><\/b><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/i><\/b><\/p>\n

So bye-bye Miss American Pie<\/i><\/b><\/p>\n

Drove my Chevy to the levee, but the levee was dry<\/i><\/b><\/p>\n

And them good old boys were drinkin\u2019 whiskey and rye<\/i><\/b><\/p>\n

Singin\u2019 \u201cThis\u2019ll be the day that I die<\/i><\/b><\/p>\n

This\u2019ll be the day that I die\u201d<\/i><\/b><\/p>\n

In the early 1980s I was visiting family in Ferndale. I was in the car by PioneerPark when McLean\u2019s song came on the radio. As it began, I stopped the car alongside the road and left the motor running. I was overcome with sadness and grieve for a longtime friend who was \u00a0living in a state facility in Bellingham, having contacted Multiple Sclerosis (MS) years before.<\/p>\n

Everything hit me at once and I was shocked to the extent that I was frozen in time, couldn\u2019t move and was tearing up at the same time. Holly\u2019s death ended for me and countless others music that tore at the fabric of our being. His first hit \u2013 \u201cThat\u2019ll Be The Day\u201d \u2013 came in May of 1957 as I was completing my junior year at Ferndale and living my Dark Ages. I had long and thick brown hair, was tall and thin as a wire, was four years almost to the day Holy die of having lost my mother, and was adrift in a morass of loneliness that stifled any meaningful progress by me.<\/p>\n

Most things repelled me during this time. School was a welcome second home, although my grades (c+) reflected my personal and mostly self-inflicted struggles. I clung to the moral standards my older sister and three older brothers had established, which kept me from killing myself, although there were times that the things I did could be construed as half-ass attempts to do just that (i.e. driving my dad\u2019s DeSota 140 miles a hour on back county roads),<\/p>\n

The one constant was this friend, who had her own demons, mostly a dysfunctional family, to contend with. She and I hit it off and spent hours listening to the gloomy but heart-felt words of Hank Williams. We particularly loved \u201cLonesome Whistle\u201d and the stuff Hank did as Luke the Drifter.<\/p>\n

There was some comfort knowing you had shared sadness and loneliness with somebody else. It kept both of us straight and narrow down the sometimes slippery slope of our life. She would go on to marry somebody else, but two years into that union she developed MS. It hit her suddenly and hit her hard. So hard that within a couple years she was put in that state institution from which she would spend the rest of her life \u2013 nearly 20 years \u2013 before finally returning home to God at a young age.<\/p>\n

So there I was that day just outside PioneerPark, listening to American Pie. All the loneliness, all the heartbreak, all the sadness of that time, those dark ages, came wheeling in on me, crushing me so I couldn\u2019t move as tears slid down my cheeks.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u00a0\u201cDid you write the book of love<\/i><\/b><\/p>\n

\u00a0And do you have faith in God above<\/i><\/b><\/p>\n

\u00a0If the Bible tells you so?<\/i><\/b><\/p>\n

\u00a0Now do you believe in rock and roll<\/i><\/b><\/p>\n

\u00a0Can music save your mortal soul<\/i><\/b><\/p>\n

\u00a0And can you teach me how to dance real slow?<\/i><\/b><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/i><\/b><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u201cCause I saw your dancin\u2019 in the gym<\/i><\/b><\/p>\n

\u00a0You both kicked off your shoes<\/i><\/b><\/p>\n

\u00a0Man, I dig those rhythm and blues.<\/i><\/b><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/i><\/b><\/p>\n

\u00a0I was a lonely teenage bouncing\u2019 buck<\/i><\/b><\/p>\n

\u00a0With a pink carnation and a pickup truck<\/i><\/b><\/p>\n

\u00a0But I knew I was out of luck<\/i><\/b><\/p>\n

The day the music died.<\/i><\/b><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/i><\/b><\/p>\n

\u00a0I started singin\u2019 bye-bye, Miss American Pie<\/i><\/b><\/p>\n

\u00a0Drove my Chevy to the levee, but the levee was dry<\/i><\/b><\/p>\n

\u00a0Then good old boys were drinkin\u2019 whiskey and rye<\/i><\/b><\/p>\n

\u00a0Singin\u2019 \u201cThis\u2019ll be the day that I die<\/i><\/b><\/p>\n

\u00a0This\u2019ll be the day that I die.\u201d<\/i><\/b><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/i><\/b><\/p>\n

My wife kept saying, \u201cWhat are you doing? Let\u2019s go\u201d But I couldn\u2019t. I was transported back in time, and nothing could budge me. I was thinking as McLean sang on,\u201d Why do the bad things that happen to people happen? Why does my friend have to suffer? Why can\u2019t things \u2013 the good things \u2013 stay with us forever, not just in fleeting memories, but really with us for all time?<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd where,\u201d I thought, \u201cdid all the time go?<\/p>\n

Best friend Pete, by then, was missing for nearly a decade, never to be seen again. Ray had been dead for just over 10 years, struck down by a family genetic disorder at 31. Another best friend lived in La-LALand where he had been for 20 years at the time. Western Washington and its Old Main and Dr. John J. Wuest, the professor who had the most influence on me (still does),\u00a0 had been gone from Western for California for 15 years.<\/p>\n

What happened to the fun times that peaked through my youthful darkness?<\/p>\n

What happened to my youthfulness?<\/p>\n

\u201cN<\/i><\/b>ow for ten years we’ve been on our own
\nAnd moss grows fat on a rollin’ stone
\nBut that’s not how it used to be
\nWhen the jester sang for the king and queen
\nIn a coat he borrowed from James Dean
\nAnd a voice that came from you and me<\/i><\/b><\/p>\n

Oh, and while the king was looking down<\/strong><\/em>
\n The jester stole his thorny crown<\/strong><\/em>
\n The courtroom was adjourned<\/strong><\/em>
\n No verdict was returned<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\n

And while Lenin read a book on Marx<\/strong><\/em>
\n A quartet practiced in the park<\/strong><\/em>
\n And we sang dirges in the dark<\/strong><\/em>
\n The day the music died<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\n

We were singin’ bye-bye, Miss American Pie<\/strong><\/em>
\n Drove my Chevy to the levee, but the levee was dry<\/strong><\/em>
\n Them good old boys were drinkin’ whiskey and rye<\/strong><\/em>
\n Singin’ “This’ll be the day that I die<\/strong><\/em>
\n This’ll be the day that I die”<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\n

Helter skelter in a summer swelter<\/strong><\/em>
\n The birds flew off with a fallout shelter<\/strong><\/em>
\n Eight miles high and falling fast<\/strong><\/em>
\n It landed foul on the grass<\/strong><\/em>
\n The players tried for a forward pass<\/strong><\/em>
\n With the jester on the sidelines in a cast<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\n

Now the halftime air was sweet perfume<\/strong><\/em>
\n While the sergeants played a marching tune<\/strong><\/em>
\n We all got up to dance<\/strong><\/em>
\n Oh, but we never got the chance<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\n

‘Cause the players tried to take the field<\/strong><\/em>
\n The marching band refused to yield<\/strong><\/em>
\n Do you recall what was revealed<\/strong><\/em>
\n The day the music died?<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\n

We started singin’ bye-bye, Miss American Pie<\/strong><\/em>
\n Drove my Chevy to the levee, but the levee was dry<\/strong><\/em>
\n Them good old boys were drinkin’ whiskey and rye<\/strong><\/em>
\n And singin’ “This’ll be the day that I die<\/strong><\/em>
\n This’ll be the day that I die”<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u00a0Oh, and there we were all in one place
\nA generation lost in space
\nWith no time left to start again
\nSo come on, Jack be nimble, Jack be quick
\nJack Flash sat on a candlestick
\n‘Cause fire is the devil’s only friend<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\n

Oh, and as I watched him on the stage<\/strong><\/em>
\n My hands were clenched in fists of rage<\/strong><\/em>
\n No angel born in Hell<\/strong><\/em>
\n Could break that Satan’s spell<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\n

And as the flames climbed high into the night<\/strong><\/em>
\n To light the sacrificial rite<\/strong><\/em>
\n I saw Satan laughing with delight<\/strong><\/em>
\n The day the music died<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\n

He was singin’ bye-bye, Miss American Pie<\/strong><\/em>
\n Drove my Chevy to the levee, but the levee was dry<\/strong><\/em>
\n Them good old boys were drinkin’ whiskey and rye<\/strong><\/em>
\n And singin’ “This’ll be the day that I die<\/strong><\/em>
\n This’ll be the day that I die”<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\n

I met a girl who sang the blues<\/strong><\/em>
\n And I asked her for some happy news<\/strong><\/em>
\n But she just smiled and turned away<\/strong><\/em>
\n I went down to the sacred store<\/strong><\/em>
\n Where I’d heard the music years before<\/strong><\/em>
\n But the man there said the music wouldn’t play<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\n

And in the streets, the children screamed<\/strong><\/em>
\n The lovers cried and the poets dreamed<\/strong><\/em>
\n But not a word was spoken<\/strong><\/em>
\n The church bells all were broken<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\n

And the three men I admire most<\/strong><\/em>
\n The Father, Son and the Holy Ghost<\/strong><\/em>
\n They caught the last train for the coast<\/strong><\/em>
\n The day the music died<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\n

And they were singin’ bye-bye, Miss American Pie<\/strong><\/em>
\n Drove my Chevy to the levee, but the levee was dry<\/strong><\/em>
\n And them good old boys were drinkin’ whiskey and rye<\/strong><\/em>
\n Singin’ “This’ll be the day that I die<\/strong><\/em>
\n This’ll be the day that I die\u2019<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\n

They were singin’ bye-bye, Miss American Pie<\/strong><\/em>
\n Drove my Chevy to the levee, but the levee was dry<\/strong><\/em>
\n Them good old boys were drinkin’ whiskey and rye<\/strong><\/em>
\n And singin’ “This’ll be the day that I die”<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

As the music died that day, I turned the radio off and put my foot to the pedal. We were gone again, leaving behind Hank Williams, my dark ages, and the friends that unknowingly got me through those dark years.<\/p>\n

My friends are all gone now, and we can\u2019t do down to the levee anymore to drink whiskey and rye and dance before the stars.<\/p>\n

As I wiped away my tears, I looked one last time in the rearview mirror at what used to be, and slowly it faded away.<\/p>\n

God bless you.<\/p>\n

Be well pal<\/p>\n

Be careful out there<\/p>\n

Have a great day.<\/p>\n

You are loved.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

TERRY MOSHER   I didn\u2019t miss the 55th anniversary of his death. I was sad when he died and it…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[12,3],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-1117","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-column","category-mosher"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.sportspaper.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1117","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.sportspaper.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.sportspaper.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.sportspaper.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.sportspaper.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=1117"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"http:\/\/www.sportspaper.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1117\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1120,"href":"http:\/\/www.sportspaper.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1117\/revisions\/1120"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.sportspaper.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=1117"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.sportspaper.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=1117"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.sportspaper.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=1117"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}