Anniversaries

We’ve encountered a rough patch this winter here in the north country, but true North Dakotans are hardy.  John Steinbeck hit the nail on the head when he said, “What good is the warmth of summer without the cold of winter to give it sweetness.”

Old friends of our family recently celebrated sixty years of marriage.  A pleasant break in the weather gave us a good reason to venture away from the home fire and drive out to their party and extend our personal warm wishes.  Another sixty-year anniversary also occurred: the plane crash that took the lives of Buddy Holly, The Big Bopper, and Richie Valens.  With a twist of fate Robert Velline’s talent then came to light when he and his group appeared as a replacement.  It resulted in the birth of Bobby Vee and The Shadows. 

We’ll spare all the details since it’s well-known that the Holly’s plane crashed on its way to a concert in Moorhead.  Lesser known are some facts of who died in the crash.  They’d been traveling on cold winter roads in a leaky, uncomfortable bus, and when Holly chartered a small plane to get there faster, some juggling of seats occurred among the larger group.  The Big Bopper complained of suffering from flu and talked Waylon Jennings into giving up his seat on the plane for him.  As men like to do, Buddy Holly threw some locker-room talk at Waylon Jennings before they took off saying, “I hope your ol’ bus freezes up.”  Waylon responded, “I hope your ol’ plane crashes.”  When his unfortunate comment came true, it left him riddled with guilt for the rest of his life.

Bobby Vee became successful as a teen-idol, made many hit records, and sang his songs around the world.  Early on he even came to my hometown of Sheldon once and performed in the old city hall.  It’s hard to imagine his band performing there, but maybe the fact that our high school’s nickname of the Shadows caught their attention.  I felt a bit of embarrassment when not many attended.  A few years ago when the city fathers demolished the old hall, I imagined the ghosts from so many basketball games, class plays, and dances like this hovering overhead after escaping through the open roof.

Sixty years ago, meaning the late 50s and early 60s, represented an important time in the lives of me and my friends.  We recently ordered breakfast in a Denny’s cafe, and on the wall a large picture of a ’57 Ford caught my attention.  Those were the days when car designs caught everyone’s attention.  A quick check online for restored ’57 Chevrolets shows just how popular they remain because it takes a fat wallet to buy a nice one.

Other music besides Bobby Vee’s sounded good to us.  Remember “Sleepwalk” by Santo and Johnny, “The Twist” by Chubby Checker, and while I didn’t know my wife at the time, I now sing her song in the shower, “Hello Mary Lou” by Ricky Nelson.  Sock hops provided an attractive form entertainment, although I don’t remember anyone shedding their shoes to dance.  I remember one dancer, however, who liked to kick his shoe off so that it sailed straight up to the ceiling.  Movies… who doesn’t remember “The Magnificent Seven” where Mexican peasants hire seven gunfighters to help defend their homes.  “Ben-Hur”  and “A Hundred and One Dalmations” filled the theaters.

Memory-trips can be fun, although much about the sixties wasn’t.  The Vietnam War, civil rights protests, the assassination of President John F. Kennedy, the Cuban missile crisis, and other events dominated the news and occupied our thoughts.  Some of us escaped by reading best-sellers like Hawaii, Goldfinger, or Catch 22.

Thanks to the happy couple for being married sixty years because their celebration opened the door to a large room full of memories.  There are words to a song that go like this: “Yesterday is history.  Tomorrow is a mystery.  And I know that only this moment is mine.”  But darn it, I like history.  The past causes the present and so on into the future.