Good "wretched, spiteful, strait razor toting" Friday, y'all.
Surfing the internet in between plays last night, I discovered the passing of musician Tony Joe White. It really affected me. I had to find and play Brook Benton's version of White's "Rainy Night In Georgia." His deep, soulful interpretation complete with orchestration always laid me out. It did well for both writer and singer.
Tony Joe's original version ain't too bad either, but the song that just about everyone knows or remembers is "Polk Salad Annie." A true original created by someone who probably lived it.
My reflection on his death reminded me of the time I found my mother sobbing over the death of Jack Benny. I was totally surprised that my mom would care enough to be so moved by his passing. I tried to be consoling, but at the age of fourteen, it seemed a complete incongruity to me. My mother, by that time in her life was pretty hardened by life. She was not one to cry, so I thought.
Death always changes the game. It affects us emotionally in many different ways.
Before John Lennon's senseless assassination, death really didn't affect me though many actors, actresses, politicians, ball players, relatives and friends had passed away before my fifteenth birthday.
Over time, excess took some of my favorite musicians like Elvis, Jimi, Jim, Janis, as well as baseball hero, Mickey Mantle. Airplanes didn't help either. Later in the years, death took people I was prepared to mourn, like Brian Wilson, who somehow survived to witness the death of both of his brothers... but he survived. Who knew?
Reading about White's passing didn't have me in tears, but it did make me very sad. I felt I lost a part of me that I'll never get back. I suspect Jack Benny's passing affected my mom in ways I just couldn't grasp. She must have felt death slowly moving into her world. She lived a full life just south of her ninetieth birthday. But, for that one moment she was affected by that notion.
I know I feel somewhat like that losing Tony Joe White. I never met the man. I never saw him in concert. Maybe I feel I didn't appreciate him enough. Maybe, I feel the same way about all the great people that surround me to make my life so rich. The best I can do is enjoy his legacy and the songs that he left behind.
Chomp, chomp...
Third cup!
Surfing the internet in between plays last night, I discovered the passing of musician Tony Joe White. It really affected me. I had to find and play Brook Benton's version of White's "Rainy Night In Georgia." His deep, soulful interpretation complete with orchestration always laid me out. It did well for both writer and singer.
Tony Joe's original version ain't too bad either, but the song that just about everyone knows or remembers is "Polk Salad Annie." A true original created by someone who probably lived it.
My reflection on his death reminded me of the time I found my mother sobbing over the death of Jack Benny. I was totally surprised that my mom would care enough to be so moved by his passing. I tried to be consoling, but at the age of fourteen, it seemed a complete incongruity to me. My mother, by that time in her life was pretty hardened by life. She was not one to cry, so I thought.
Death always changes the game. It affects us emotionally in many different ways.
Before John Lennon's senseless assassination, death really didn't affect me though many actors, actresses, politicians, ball players, relatives and friends had passed away before my fifteenth birthday.
Over time, excess took some of my favorite musicians like Elvis, Jimi, Jim, Janis, as well as baseball hero, Mickey Mantle. Airplanes didn't help either. Later in the years, death took people I was prepared to mourn, like Brian Wilson, who somehow survived to witness the death of both of his brothers... but he survived. Who knew?
Reading about White's passing didn't have me in tears, but it did make me very sad. I felt I lost a part of me that I'll never get back. I suspect Jack Benny's passing affected my mom in ways I just couldn't grasp. She must have felt death slowly moving into her world. She lived a full life just south of her ninetieth birthday. But, for that one moment she was affected by that notion.
I know I feel somewhat like that losing Tony Joe White. I never met the man. I never saw him in concert. Maybe I feel I didn't appreciate him enough. Maybe, I feel the same way about all the great people that surround me to make my life so rich. The best I can do is enjoy his legacy and the songs that he left behind.
Chomp, chomp...
Third cup!
Copyright 2018/ Ben Bensen III
