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Billy Bragg on C4 News 11 March 2009

Billy Bragg on Channel 4 news talking to Krishnan Guru Murthy about theFeatured Artist’s Coalition
news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/entertainment/7936712.stm

The Day The Music Died

We were now as we should have been forever; we were family. No catastrophes, no drama, no incidents; things were as normal with us as they were with any other family. We succeeded at some things and we failed at others. We had good times and we had our share of bad times. We fussed with each other and we enjoyed each other. We had weddings, funerals, birthdays and parties. Our lives went on. 

The events of the last 9 or 10 years were already fading from memory. The Black man who had captured my Mother’s heart so many years ago, lived far enough away that I wasn’t seen as being associated with him any longer. The wedding between my White Mom and the Black man in 1950, was rapidly becoming something of the very distant past. People who six months ago were looking down on us in disgust, now at least acknowledged our existence. 

Life was wonderful. I forgot about the trials we had been through over the last several years and concentrated on making what I had right then as much as it could be. Finally I was excited about my life. I was looking forward to the next day and the next and the next. I had never done that before, I had never wanted tomorrow to even come and now I could hardly wait. It’s surprising how little one needs to make such a big impression. We were not by any stretch of the imagination rich, well to do or even extra comfortable, but we had everything we needed and we were enjoying our newfound contentment. 

Friday, June 5th1964 was my last day of school for the year.  The bus squealed to a stop in front of my house for the last time for at least three glorious summer months. I got off and ran up to Dad’s car. He was in it just sitting the way he liked to do. I went to his window and said “Hi Dad.” “Yup,” was his dry response. “Can I sit?” “Sure, come on in.” he said as he moved his hat off the passenger seat. I liked to sit with Dad and just look at whatever he was looking at. We sat for an hour or so and Dad finally got out and went inside for dinner. I followed suit and was hot on his tail. 

The next day Dad got up early and left for town; he didn’t take anyone with him today. He got home about 5:00 PM late that afternoon and as he liked to do, he just sat in his car looking out over his spread. It was Saturday night and that was an important night on television for Dad. He really liked watching a show called “Hootenanny.” It was a musical variety show that concentrated on folk and country music. 

The time for Hootenanny came and I jumped up to go out and get Dad. He must have heard the music because he was already out of his car but he wasn’t coming in. It looked like he was fixing the windshield wipers; he was bent over in the crack of the open door with his arm lying on the windshield. 

“Dad!” I called out. “It’s Hootenanny!” I started back in but I noticed he just stood there and didn’t even acknowledge me. Usually he would have said something like “Yup, in a minute.” But he wasn’t responding at all. I turned back around and looked closer and something seemed wrong. Dad’s head was hanging down and his eyes were pointed at the ground; he wasn’t looking at the windshield at all. I could see his other arm now just hanging down the side of the door and he wasn’t even moving. Both of Dad’s legs were bent slightly at the knee and his feet were not level on the ground; it was almost like he was hanging from the door. 

I stopped short! I went numb all over and just stared. My blood chilled and everything around me stopped. I couldn’t hear anything or see anything, but Dad. The sky darkened, the wind calmed, the birds quit singing; there was a deafening silence like just before a big storm. My mind raced with the many different possibilities and still it came down to only one likely outcome.  

I knew what must have happened but I prayed that it didn’t. I told myself, “It can’t be. Not now, oh God, not now, not now, not now.” “MOM! MOM!” I screamed as loud as I could. I couldn’t hear myself but I knew I was screaming. I was racing to Dad but I couldn’t get there. I wanted to get to him in time to help him, but I couldn’t move. No matter how fast I ran I wasn’t getting anywhere. 

Suddenly I was at Dad’s side. I didn’t want to touch him but I had to. I knew what had happened, but if I touched him it would make it all too real. I slowly backed up a couple of steps and screamed again, “Mom!” I was alone trying to acknowledge this terrible thing that had happened to Dad. No one was responding. Nobody was coming to help me. I had to try to help him myself. I had to let myself see the truth. I finally let myself go to him. I could see his eyes were half closed and his mouth was open. He was drooling but he wasn’t breathing. His face was empty and white. My Dad’s strong, gentle, loving face was gone. He had taken it with him when he left. 

I grabbed him under his arms and pulled and struggled to stand him up. He was just too heavy; I couldn’t move him. I kept calling out to him “Dad!” “Dad!” But I got no response. I could still feel his heat but I knew he wasn’t there any longer. I knew he had left, but I was not ready to accept it. I prayed hard and fast. I prayed but I knew the answer. I had already seen Dad, I knew God couldn’t bring him back now. Still, I prayed and cried and yelled for Mom and called to Dad and prayed some more. “Please God don’t take him now; don’t take my Dad.” 

I grabbed his arm with both hands; my face wet with emotion, my voice quaked with fear. I shook his arm hard and demanded he answer me. “DAD, you have to talk to me!” Still there was nothing. I heard footsteps coming up behind me; it was Mom. “Harry, HARRY! Answer us! Harry!” Dad didn’t hear us; he didn’t even know we were there. He had went on to a better place and left only his shell behind. He left only the Dad we recognized not the Dad we knew. 

Just then the ambulance pulled in. Somehow, someone had enough wits about themselves to place the call. The attendants went right to work on Dad. They tried to get him to breath right there but nothing seemed to work. They got Dad moved over to their cart and hauled him to the ambulance. As they were pulling away we were all getting into Mom’s car; we were going to follow them into town. 

We arrived at the hospital just in time for the Doctor to come out to the waiting room and tell us that Dad was dead. He was pronounced dead on arrival. Dad was dead. His ordeal was over. He no longer had to worry about Mom or where she was or what was going to happen to her or when she might want to come back to him. He no longer had to fight to get his children back in his fold. His story was finished being told. 

Mom collapsed into one of the chairs in the waiting room. She buckled under the pressure and lost control. Her slight frame shook with audible sobs of anguish and fear. She had waited far too long and now she was alone. The doctor left and we just waited. We waited for reassurance. We waited for promises. We waited. 

A nurse finally came to us and asked us if we wanted to see Dad. Mom said yes and we went with the nurse to the last room Dad had ever been in. He was there, appearing even more silent than he did at home. So much power, so much strength, a heart full of love…and now he was silent. 

His clothes were neatly folded and stacked on a chair in the emergency room. We gathered his things, said our final goodbyes and left the way we came. Suitably, the room where Dad lay was very dimly lit and a gray pallor hung low over Dad’s bed. He looked good; he still looked good. He had regained his weight since the bout with pneumonia and his barrel chest swelled the sheet they had pulled over him. He was still freshly manicured from his trip into town this morning; he was a presence to be reckoned with, even in his silent death. 

Probably the worse news anyone can receive is that a loved one has passed away. There are some things that can make that horrible news even more depressing. Dad had left just as things were getting better. His family was finally all home. His Son in the Army was coming home very soon. Dad was making plans to remarry his wife of 30 plus years. There is never a good time to leave; just some times that may be worse than the others. 

June 6th, 1964 was the first day of my summer vacation. It was my first summer vacation ever that would follow a full year of school at one home. My nine-year ordeal was coming to an end. Mom and Dad were getting married. It was almost over. Now, it was definitely over, forever! 

7:30 PM, June 6th, 1964 – Dad was dead!

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This digital document is an article from Junior Scholastic, published by Scholastic, Inc. on March 14, 2011. The length of the article is 534 words. The page length shown above is based on a typical 300-word page. The article is delivered in HTML format and is available immediately after purchase. You can view it with any web browser.

Citation Details
Title: Should art & music be mandatory in schools?(NEWS DEBATE)
Author: Unavailable
Publication: Junior Scholastic (Magazine/Journ

Should art & music be mandatory in schools?(NEWS DEBATE): An article from: Junior Scholastic

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