The Day the Music Died.

 "Death is not the greatest loss in life. The greatest loss is what dies inside us while we live"

                                                                                          Norman Cousins

11:37 am 

Like a salmon swimming upstream, Joan forged her way through the party animals that crowded the downstairs of the large turn-of-the-century Craftsman house.

Noise!

Loud noise! 

 

"I was raised by a toothless, bearded hag

I was schooled with a strap right across my back

But it's all right now, in fact, it's a gas

But it's all right, I'm Jumpin' Jack Flash

It's a gas! Gas! Gas

I was drowned, I was washed up and left for dead

I fell down to my feet and I saw they bled

I frowned at the crumbs of a crust of bread

Yeah, yeah, yeah"

The Wolf Pack and their friends had the new Rolling Stone album b lasting on the Hi-Fi record-player...needle skipping occasionally as they rocked out to the music - shaking the floor of the old house.

As usual, Mr. D was off selling real estate. Today it was West Covina. 

Dancing

Long golden hair flung wildly.

""Yeah, yeah, yeahs" sung off-tune.

Joan's distressed pleas for help went unanswered - falling on deaf and uncaring ears.  Suddenly, she became the least popular person in the entire universe when she dragged the needle across the record as a last resort.

It was like the proverbial "Shot heard around the world."  It was symbolic for her. Her youngest boy was 2 miles away with a torn appendage in a pool of blood. For her it was the day the music died.

With the stereophonic console silenced it took another 5 minutes for most of the hippies to realize that Mick Jagger wasn't even singing lead vocals any more - as the Hippy clones droned on.

Markie's leg has been cut off!" she screamed, trying to get their attention. "And he might be dead. I need a ride this instant" she demanded with urgency, trying to solicit help and a car. Most of the Wolf Pack knew what THAT meant. It meant that if Markie wasn't dead, it would be a long and boring trip to Saint John's emergency room in Santa Monica that would interrupt what had begun as a good day. 

No one budged. No one said a word. It was like a "Mexican-Standoff" where the first person to speak - loses!

Nothing was ever serious in our house. Everything had to be a joke! In the far back of the living room someone ducked behind a wall of smelly teenage bodies and lowered their voice, pretending to mimic dad and said, "It'll be one less mouth to feed."

Laughter.

Not much at first.

Some of it nervous. The non-Dahlins weren't sure this was an appropriate time to be laughing.  But the "Mexican Tomato Plants" had a way of dulling the senses and made ordinary things funny.  "Hahaha...dude...look at my hand. Where did that come from? Hahahaha"

The little bit of laughter seemed to grant permission  for them not to take the situation serious as one of the clever older boys shouted, "We never liked him anyway."  

More laughter.

Bad timing!

Joan was upset. "Hell!" she exclaimed in utter frustration. She looked out the window and saw that her car was packed in behind twelve other cars and that it would take an Act of God to extricate it within the next 40 minutes. Tom Weltz' 57 Chevy was parked catawampus - half-in and half-out of the driveway. Maybe out of control. Maybe out of mind. Maybe doing the right thing, She swung and caught Tom with a right hook to the face - knocking him to the ground. Don't mess with the lioness when one of her lion cubs are in trouble.

Tom was dazed, but not completely out, so Joan ordered Pinky off his Lazy-Boy throne and made him pin Tom to the ground while she frisked him for his keys.

Pinky was the only one on the first floor that had not inhaled the skunk-smelling herbs. Finding the keys in Tom's tight pants pocket she yanked them out and sprang from the porch with Pinky lumbering close behind.  Hoping upon hope the two of them hijacked Tom precious hot rod.  Pinky couldn't drive a stick shift so Joan did the driving as the car sank on the right side under the weight of Pinky's massive frame.  "Water weight!" and "Big bones" Pinky always said in denial. Yeah, well tell that to the shock absorbers.

Joan popped the clutch twice killing the motor...and jerked backwards out of the driveway on the third attempt.

Stomping her foot on the gas pedal as if she could push it through the floor, she dumped the clutch and pealed rubber all the way down the street towards the Lennon house on the corner.

Mr. Lennon came out with his 4 iron and golf ball to make sure it wasn't Leland, only to be totally flabbergasted to discover it Joan behind the steering wheel of the car that sped around the corner towards Saint Mark's Church. He shrugged his shoulders and rooted for her to make the left turn at the end of the street without crashing through the doors of the church. 

Tearing around the corner she made a sign of the cross and breathed a silent prayer while shifting into second gear, chirping the tires and barely missing pedestrians at McDonald's.

11:39 Am 
Meanwhile, back at the Harding house...the Wolf-Pack turned on the record again as though the brief annoyance had never happened.

 "But it's all right now, in fact, it's a gas

But it's all right, I'm Jumping Jack Flash

Its a gas! Gas! GAs!

Jumping Jack Flash, it's a gas

Jumping Jack Flash, it's a gas

Jumping Jack Flash, it's a gas 

 Jumping Jack Flash, it's a gas 

 Jumping Jack Flash, it's a gas

11:40 am
Left at Lincoln Liquor Locker - down Zanja - she screeched to a halt in the dirt ally stirring up a dust cloud that enveloped the car.  Frantically emerging from the brown cloud, Joan found 3 crying 9-year-olds, a delirious 12-year-old talking to himself like a mental patient and what appeared to be the corpse of her baby boy laying lifeless in a pool of blood. 

Joan shook him, but there was no response! Pinky meant well when he said the first thing that came to him mind, "kick him!"  (You see, it was hard for him to bend over, so using his feet just made sense to him).  Seeing the leg and blood, Joan felt she had arrived too late.