Memorial Day Music

Been off-blog for some time, but once you read about the events of Memorial Day week-end, you may understand why it has taken so long to gird my loins to record them.

Emily called on Thursday. She had been one of the organizers of the Spiritual Walk for Peace. I had already learned, through my friends at Code Pink, that the Spiritual Walk people would have a booth at the Paseo Festival. Emily was calling to ask if I would play music during the course of the three-day weekend. The idea was that the music might draw people.

The Spiritual Walk people had always met around two on Sunday afternoon, and Mary Reynolds had reportedly agreed to provide music at that time – as she had through most of the walks.

Well, anything that gets me out of the house and into the company of people (especially positive-spirited people like the majority of the Spiritual Walk folk) is to the good. So I agreed.

About 10 o’clock Saturday morning, I went to the Paseo. The Spiritual Walk tent was on the western edge of the neighborhood, about a block off the main path. Turned out that Emily had not touched base with the other organizers before she called me — so they were pleasantly surprised when I came packing guitar. But not really prepared. For one thing, there was no sound system; and when a sound system was ultimately obtained (by the good graces of the erstwhile Mary R), it was decided that a sound system was too formal for the occasion. In retrospect, I see positives and negatives to this decision.

For me, one of the negatives was the fact that I felt a need to sing loud in hopes of folk hearing me beyond a few feet. So, by the end of the week-end my voice was a little raw. I also think the music might have drawn a few more people if it had been amplified. On the other hand, having the mike would have indeed made things a little more formal — putting things into the realm of "speakers" and "audience." The lack of a microphone may have encouraged more people to share than would have otherwise.

The high-point of the experience for me was jamming with Mary Reynolds. An outsider might think we’re in a mutual admiration society, because I always say something about how honored I am to sing with her, and she always returns the compliment. The fact is, Mary has one of the best voices singing professionally in OKC. Only Lark comes close. On the other hand, I have a very fine (if untrained) tenor voice – with a pretty fair range (three to four octave). Mary came by the “Peace Tent” about two o'clock Saturday afternoon, and we played (with others joining off & on) for about two and a half hours.

Of course, we sang all the traditional peace songs — “Get Together”, “Turn, Turn, Turn”, and so on. Mary is very fond of my interpretation of Phil Och’s “There But For Fortune,” and requested I sing it. One of the more interesting points is when I sang the Quaker hymn “How Can I Keep From Singing?” As the spirit moves, I often do a vocalize thing – sort of a poor man’s yodel mixed with open-mouth humming – as a break in this song. Somehow, this seems appropriate. Much to my pleasant surprise, Mary and others vocalized with me. It was like open-air church!

Have I ever mentioned that a large part of my spirituality is tied up in music? I feel closest to the divine when I’m singing — especially when I just "let go."

If anyone is interested, I’d like my epitaph to be “How Can I Keep From Singing?” If there is a life after this, I believe I’ll be singing at the edge of the Celestial Rose around some eternal campfire with friends & loved ones.

Between my ragged voice and weary fingers, I ran out of steam around five, and went home.

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Sunday.
Of course, there was church Sunday morning. Mary Reynolds sings in the choir at the church I attend, so naturally I saw her then. Turned out that something had come up, and she would not be able to lead the music for the Peace Tent that afternoon. "So, it’s all up to you," she said, "I’m confident you’ll do fine." Well, I can be a bit of a wild card when I’m performing, and I told her I depended on her leadership to rein me in. "Well," she said, "just pretend I'm there."

Well, the lack of a sound system gave me the freedom to sing things like "Masters of War" without fear of causing offense. In a moment, I’ll talk about the main speaker, but after his presentation we had a Quaker sit. People speak as the spirit moves. The spirit moved me to lead the group in a Sanskrit chant:

Lead us from the unreal to the real
Lead us from the darkness into light
Lead us from death into life

I recently read that this is one of Houston Smith’s favorite prayers. Personally, I learned it via the Forest of Peace Benedictine monastery near Sand Springs, Oklahoma.

Think I was filmed singing standard peace songs by one of the local stations. Since my mental health is improved by avoiding local news (or any variety of television news), I don’t know whether I was seen by the greater metro area.

Largo: Bud Welch

The main speaker at the Peace Tent Sunday afternoon was Bud Welch. Bud Welch has lived in OKC all his life. He used to own the filling station around 16th and Classen. He began his presentation by saying “I’d like to try to put a human face on one of the 168 people who died on April 19, 1995.”

Yes, it does seem like that event is haunting me lately, doesn’t it?

When his daughter Julie was in fifth grade, a Spanish-speaking girl joined her class. Julie noticed how lonely this new-comer seemed, and formed a friendship with her. She learned Spanish to better communicate with her.

Julie was a bright young woman, and obtained a scholarship to attend Bishop McGuiness, an exceptional private parochial school in Okla. City. The day of enrollment, while she was waiting in line to visit with the advisor, she filled out her course choices. When she finally met with the advisor, the advisor was quite disturbed. Seems that Julie had elected to take three languages during her first year of high school. Julie convinced her advisor (and her father) that she could handle the load. And, by using a study period for class time, she did.

She later earned a scholarship to a fine private college, and spent a year in Europe. She eventually went to work at the Social Security Administration service housed at the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building in downtown Oklahoma City.

The morning of April 19, Julie was called from her office to help assist an upset Hispanic client. She was walking the man to his truck at 9:01 when Timothy McVeigh ignited the explosives in the rear of a Ryder panel truck.

The first year following that tragedy, Mr. Welch was filled with anger and a desire for revenge. If Timothy McVeigh had not been wearing a bullet-proof vest, Bud would have been tempted to execute him prior to trial. But, even in the midst of this, he was touched by a moment of compassion for McVeigh’s father. He saw the man being interviewed on television, and recognized that this man had lost his son as much as he had lost his daughter.

Finally, Bud Welch hit bottom. Through a number of symptoms, he recognized how his anger and desire for revenge was destroying his life. As his healing progressed, he began to speak against the death penalty across the country — and has now spoken all over the world.

To be continued ....