My father was an amazing man. He was respected and received many honors and awards for his bravery including the coveted Bronze Star. He was known for his passion, fighting spir-it, the way he cared for and took care of his family, and his
intense loyalty. He never gave up on anything.
After his years in the military he went to the police acade-my. He eventually became a detective in New York City and was one of the first in America to receive something called a car phone. His brother was a physician, and one day my dad noticed that his back was hurting more than usual. He was an athletic man, a physical person who loved exercise, fighting and hunting. But something was different, something was changing inside of him and he did not know what.
His health declined rapidly and a few months later, he was bedridden in a spare bedroom of his brother’s house who tended my dad’s declining health. Drugged up on morphine, my father died of cancer just five days before I was born.
Five days.
I was 12 when I found out about him. Much older when I discovered his life and family. I often wondered what it would be like to know the sound of my father’s voice when he called my name. I wondered how he would feel to know I was named after him, or I named my own son MichaelB after him. I won-dered what it would be like to have the presence of my father guiding me, teaching me, opposing me, praising my small accomplishments, going for a walk, playing catch, having him show me how to change the oil in a car, getting angry at him knowing that I could because he wasn’t going anywhere.
I am so much different than what my father was like. As many parents do with kids who pursue the arts, he might have opposed my choices and it could have caused us to be alienated, at least for a while.
Damn. Five days.
He never got to see or hold his son. I have no memory of him, his life or his voice. I wish I did. Even so, I feel so grateful to know Melody, Rachel, MichaelB, Makayla and Caleb. I love being their father. I’m so grateful they do not know what it’s like not to have a father who celebrates them, who loves them dearly and unconditionally.
Today, as I write this passage, I miss that scrappy kid who became a military hero and one of the most awarded detectives in New York City. He passed away too young, too soon.
He’s in my thoughts often, he’s with me every day. I look at my hands and see his blood running through them, I look in my children’s eyes and see his reflection looking back. I often wondered how my adult life would’ve been different if I had known him.
Today, like so many other days, I really miss my father.
My son MichaelB the day I finally found my father’s grave.
“We sail upon different ships but we share the same storm.”
MJ
A Signature
Decision
There are a tremendous amount of wonderful tributes to Pete, his life, his career and the energy he and Toshi expended in making the community of our human race better.
He influenced so many. Of course, I created WoodSongs based in a large part on Pete and Toshi’s public television program called Rainbow Quest. My last book, WoodSongs 4 was written in tribute to the work ethic of Pete and Toshi, and it was dedicated to them. I encourage you to check it out.
Musically, I don’t think I can contribute anything better to what Pete and Toshi meant than what many of my friends have already done. Pete’s example impacted me as a boy growing up as his neighbor, even before I realized who he was. His was not so much a musical influence as it was an attitude. Pete’s music and mine are very far apart, although planted in the same garden.
His vision of being a musical Johnny Appleseed is what inspired the creation of the SongFarmers community which has grown nationwide with nearly 100 chapters as of this writing.
I’ve been trying to think of a way to acknowledge the good example and inspiration of someone like Pete Seeger. Even the sloop Clearwater was a gargantuan effort for a folksinger to under-take and he did it by bringing together a community, making the cause more important than himself.
Of course, there’s always the detractors: they will make politics and social issues supersede the good work of an honest musician who tried to live the reality of what he believed. That’s OK, everybody has their own viewpoint.
I’m reminded of something Don McLean wrote to me once, saying people had to remember “Pete sailed the Hudson river, he did not walk on it.” Don was one of the original sloop singers aboard the Clearwater, greatly influenced by Pete and the Weavers music, and that was quite a realistic and insightful com-ment on a great man. Don is right.
Anyway, considering how to acknowledge Pete’s influence without diving into the myriad of tribute concerts and albums and becoming part of a well-meaning crowd, I decided to adopt his signature.
Pete’s wife was of Japanese decent, a culture that often added art to the family names. Pete started doing that during the last third of his life, signing his postcards and letters with a little banjo alongside his name in tribute to his wife. He would also tape little leaves to his letters to add the idea of environmen-talism to notes, often written on the backside of scrap paper.
So, to acknowledge his positive influence, I’ve decided to add that banjo to my own signature, a silent acknowledgment of the powerful example of a humble man who walked the walk and lived the life he believed in.
“I want to turn the clock back to when people lived in small villages
and took care of each other.”
“Participation is what will save the human race and I feel my
whole life is a contribution.”
Pete Seeger
“If you hear a voice within you say you cannot paint, then by all means paint so that voice will be silenced.”
Vincent van Gogh
There is a big difference between being a participant and a spectator. A participant helps make things happen, a spectator sits back and watches it unfold. You can still be a “fan” and stay a par-ticipant. Let’s figure this out:
One of the greatest achievements of Vincent is he inspired so many others to paint. I don’t know many folks who aspire to paint like Rembrandt, but thousands look at a van Gogh and think, “I want to try that!” The fans become participants. One of the greatest privileges of being a participant in life is that of being a parent. Another is being an artist. Both create and inspire. In theory, anyway.