For Memorial Day, a toast to those who are gone.
In memory of my dad, I thought about posting a clip of Harry Caray singing Take Me Out To The Ballgame, but common sense prevailed. Dad's tastes--how to put this?--often didn't match up with my own (or anybody else's in the family, for that matter), but he did like Johnny Cash:
In memory of my brother Keith, who first exposed me to the work of Peter Sellers, and in so doing introduced me to one of my cultural heroes:
In memory of Mom--well, this one is almost too easy, but I know wherever she is, this clip is making her cry:
Of course, to remember Mom, one clip just isn't enough. So here we have the drum solo--three whole minutes of it!--from Iron Butterfly's In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida. Two years ago this very weekend, Mom and I went to see an oldies knockoff band just because one member of it had been in one incarnation of Iron Butterfly. When we got to the drum solo, Mom stood up, leaning on her walker, pumping her fist in the air. The fact that, in this clip, original drummer Ron Bushy resembles Ted Neeley from another Mom favorite, Jesus Christ Superstar, only confirms for me that it's her world, and the rest of us just live here. Anyway, take it away, Ron:
And in memory of so many others, here is Phil Ochs, so earnest, so passionate, so convinced music could change the world. When he realized it couldn't, he hanged himself. But surely no songwriter ever wrote truer words:
Requiescat in pace, folks.
