July 16, 1981....the day the music really died

We all have heroes. Some of them are religious, like Jesus. Some of them are athletes. Mine tend to be musicians. Not all but some.
For example—I count as heroes people like Nelson Mandela, who was imprisoned for 27 years for no other reason than the color of his skin, and for protesting the situation in his native South Africa. Did his time, came out, unbelievably became president of the very country that threw him in jail, and then FORGAVE his jailers, and set about to change the way that the two factions lived and worked together. In this country we cant get government leaders to agree on lunch. We thought we had a Mandela in Obama, and maybe time will show him to be one. Time always tells.
Other heroes of mine are Muhammad Ali, Bob Dylan, Woody Guthrie, and for the longest time of all of them, Harry Chapin. Why? Well, lets just say that since my second concert going experience, a double bill with Don McLean at Vassar Chapel in Poughkeepsie, NY, I have been enthralled by Harry’s music. It’s not Dylan. It’s not even John Denver. His music was his very own, a storytelling genius with a sense of humor, a down to earth humility and a heart as big as a heart can be.
I saw Harry perform 8 times over the years. I never saw his band. Why? Because when Harry performed solo, it was a benefit. And after the shows, he would come out in the lobby, “Sign anything you want signed” as he’d say, and just rap with you. I got to “rapping” with him so often that he knew my name the last two times I saw him play and he’d take extra time out for a young man who needed that at that time of his life, and I will be forever grateful for his few extra minutes of talking and good will.
He often spoke about the issue of hunger in the world, a world that produces enough food to feed every single being on the planet twice over. In that spirit, he started World Hunger Year, and he put his money where his mouth was, giving away about half the money he ever made to charities, and starting a worldwide awareness of the problem, which continues to this day.
At the broadcast of his 2000th concert, he spoke of how he had worked for one of his own heroes, a man named Allard Lowenstein, a congressman from New York whose hart was in the right place. Lowenstein was gunned down by a disturbed young man many years ago, and Harry lost of his heroes. When Harry died, on July 16, 1981, of a heart attack following a devastating car accident on the Long Island Expressway, I lost one of my heroes, and it still stings to this day.
As Bruce Springsteen said at the tribute concert to Harry, “Do something, and may his songs be sung.”
I have done something. This walk across the country is my way of helping raise a few bucks, keep the people I meet aware of the problem, and generally to spread the word about Harry, and his mission. Several of the bicycle riders I have encountered have pulled their iPods out and shown me that they have Harry’s greatest hits programmed on their players. This is more than cool for me and all of a sudden we have a common bond. How can you listen to 30000 Pounds of Bananas and not crack a smile? Or listen to Mr Tanner and not think about the failed singer in all of us? Or Cat’s in the Cradle, and not think about the times your dad wasn’t around when you needed him. I certainly relate to that one, rest his soul. My dad was a good guy, but he was just soooo busy…..
So Harry, who died, ironically, when that big heart gave out on July 16, 1981, still lives on as long as his songs are sung. And they will be for a very, very long time.
People of conscience and action are becoming more and more common, but none of them are as approachable and as down to earth as Harry was. They would never take the time to learn the name of a young man who needed a kind word at a critical time, as Harry did.
Now, he is gone, and we mourn that loss.
So, in closing, those of you who can read this: Get off your asses and DO SOMETHING.