Posted in childhood, family, life

Heroes Forever and Ever

In August of 1977 my mother walked into our backyard and told my brother, sis and me that Elvis had died. Then she turned around and went back into the house. I feel certain she went into her room to “lay down” like she did when difficult things happened. We continued to sit in our lawn chairs doing whatever it was we did as kids back in the 70’s. We had gold shag carpet in our house. 
In December 1980 my father woke my sister and me up for school. Cold dark December like it is when you’re 12 and living in the mountains. He loved to say TGIF on Fridays. I think this was a Monday. My father woke us with the news that John Lennon had been shot the night before. My father was not necessarily a Beatles or John Lennon fan. He liked the radio. In the car. My Dad knew enough to know that we would want to know. So he told us right away. Before frozen waffles and the long ride to school and a.m. radio.
My heroes have suddenly gone missing. Bowie. Prince. When they left me my phone told me. CNN told me too. I felt like my mother did back in 1977. Only worse. We always think it’s worse. Never better.
My parents are with me. My heroes are missing. I did not win the lottery. Tomorrow is Saturday.

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