All Together Now (All Together Now!)

There’s a thought process I have when feeling nostalgic – it may be a song or a television show jingle.  Possibly a product or a photograph from the past.  But I often like to drift off wondering what I was doing on the day a particular song was being recorded; while four or five mopped-haired guys were smoking cigarettes between laying down vocals and a little girl, not so far away, was lazily dreaming on her front lawn.

When I look back at my childhood in the 1960’s, and early 1970’s, it seems I benchmark chapters of my life by the bands that I loved most at the time.  Everyone categorizes their past by some means, but it seems that even into adulthood I look back at an era and feel it best by the music that influenced my life.

I know exactly what I did when The Beatles made their first appearance on The Ed Sullivan Show.  I was seven years old and I can still remember dancing wildly off to the side of the TV, a bit annoyed no one was paying as much attention to me as they were to these four curious looking boys.  But, I can’t remember what I did prior to that.  You know – while John, Paul, George and Ringo were having their afternoon tea on American soil.  Did my friend Rosalie and I play a round of Monopoly?  Or was I drinking lemonade and pouring over my favorite comic book.  It was a Sunday – maybe my Dad was barbequing T-bone steaks while my mother was preparing her legendary wedge salad.  All I know is that I was doing something – something while something big was about to happen!

So today, when I watched Three Dog Night’s “Try a Little Tenderness”, posted by their original drummer Floyd Sneed, on Facebook, I immediately began to think “…wonder what I was doing that day…that day before all the days that lead me to this band and one of the greatest experiences of my young life…” 

I didn’t follow the crowd.  I wasn’t one of the popular girls.  My life felt different from everyone else.  But I learned to embrace what set me apart from the others and don’t care to make any deals with the Devil to trade any of it.  I will gladly keep my memory of dancing on a Sunday night in 1964.  I can still feel my cheeks grow crimson when Mickey Dolenz brought out his best antics on Thursday night TV; when my mother lovingly stopped to buy her daughter a box of Sees candy to give to the lead singer of Paul Revere and the Raiders on a Saturday afternoon. 

What we all were doing before those moments will remain a mystery – that I can be certain.

But it was something and at just the right moment… and at just the right time….we did it all together.

…Even Rock Stars

My patients, who consist of the mother and newborn dyad, are often amused and concerned that their babies, just hours old, have the rumblings of an intact digestive system – gurgling, rumbling and…gas.  To lighten the moment of their introduction into learning about these miniature adults, I like to say “Everyone passes gas…even Rock Stars!”  Giggles ensue and everyone relaxes.  It’s part of the discovery of the miracle of life and everyone welcomes a moment to smile.

But on the other end of the discovery spectrum we also learn no one is immune to the end of life…even Rock Stars.  Weighing heavy on my mind tonight is a legend by the name of Jimmy Greenspoon – a talented keyboardist and original member of the band Three Dog Night, who, as we speak, is putting his affairs in order.  Jimmy is dying. 

As a twelve-year old amateur writer, and awkward adolescent, I was in the right place at the right time and was chosen by Three Dog Night to head up a division of their national fan club – focused on one of the lead singers, Cory Wells.  Though the average band member was a full fifteen years older then myself, they proved to my parents that I was in safe hands and I am here to confirm that they took me under their protective wing and showed me the time of my life!  It was one of the most game-changing experiences of my young teenage years and it made me feel as much a star as they represented to me.

Jimmy Greenspoon fought his demons.  Drug and alcohol addiction, financial hardships, failed relationships and lost memories.  He was a child of the times eventually bobbing to the surface, gasping for air.  Through hard work and a new found appreciation for the meaning of life, Jimmy recovered and continued to grasp for a life-well-lived in healthier terms.  He met and married the love of his life – he embraced gratitude.

As we age, we push the term of “old” further and further out.  We let our children know where our wills are located, but we still think about what we’ll do “when we grow up”.  Jimmy, still touring, abruptly retired just a few months ago.  An aggressive reoccurence of melanoma will soon take another soul too soon.  His remaining time is now measured by calendar days – the second original member, after bass player Joe Schermie.

Thank you, Jimmy, for always being so kind – for always having a joke and a smile.  For the history-making melodic intros and the haunting last notes. For a twelve-yr. old who might have been way over her head if it wasn’t for seven honorable rock stars who made sure she wasn’t.

Peace, love and rock ‘n roll, man.  Peace, love and rock ‘n roll….