Just the other day, an
anniversary passed pretty much without a whimper.
It passed me by too.
It was “the day that the
music died,” when the 51st anniversary of the terrible plan crash that took
three of the music world’s biggest stars from us—Buddy Holly, Ritchie Valens,
and the Big Bopper.
The incident was
immortalized forever in Don McLean’s song “American Pie,” and for some, it
signaled the end of the innocence associated with the 1950s.
I was a little younger than
two years old when this incident happened, so I really don’t have any
recollection of it at all, except when I later heard about it as I became
enamored with rock ‘n roll.
But to some, it is as
profound an incident as when President Kennedy was assassinated a few years
later.
During their few years
entertaining us, Holly, Valens and the Big Bopper—Jiles Perry “J.P.”
Richardson—left a huge body of work that, all these years later, has found its
way to the newest, high-tech mediums.
The music is out there, one
only has to look for it.
Films have been made about
the crash, and about Holly and Valens. A film about the Big Bopper was in the
works, but I haven’t heard much about it recently.
How does “the day the music
died” relate to today’s world?
I don’t rightfully have the
answer to that question. I doubt too many kids know about the incident or the
people that perished. I doubt that many kids questioned anyone when they heard
Madonna’s horrid remake of “American Pie” a few years back.
But the incident—and the
song—still have their place in today’s world.
Life is a precious thing,
thrown away by people who don't realize this (see Leif Garrett and Gary Coleman
rants). The principles involved have grown bigger as our memories of them, as
they were, have continued to grow through the latest media.
And if our kids happen to
ask us who they were, we can give them the right answers.
The incident is part of history, and kids should
know about it too.
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