There are relatively few
people whose death has made me cry. I didn’t cry when my mother died, for
reasons I won’t go into here. I cried several days after my father died, when I
was alone in the garage of his house and saw his old golf clubs, jarring the
memory of having caddied for him sometimes when I was a kid. He and I had been
very close, but showing emotion had never been his thing; and I guess I had
learned that from him.
I also cried a few times when
patients of mine died - a few times from me having become exhausted trying to
save them, and a few times when their death was just so damned sudden and
unexpected. This especially happened when I was a medical intern and resident,
and death and dying were relatively new to me.
But I sat down and absolutely
bawled, on July 16th 1981, when I heard on the radio that Harry
Chapin had died.
Who was Harry Chapin? Many of you won’t know, because he died
before your time... or because his music was never so main-stream as to be
omnipresent on the radio. One song of his DID become a #1 hit, and that song
plays regularly on the radio even today. That song – Cats in the Cradle – is
perhaps one of the most thought-provoking popular songs ever written, one that
calls every parent to be better. I can’t hear it without thinking about what
type of father I have been to each of my four children, now all fully grown (my
youngest just turned 17).
But that song and that
life-influencing message isn’t why I cried for Harry Chapin.
Harry Chapin was a songwriter
who didn’t write for the rich and famous, or the cool and hip. He wrote for
those among us who are sad or lonely or old or sick... or all of the above. He
wrote about justice and injustice. He wrote about the poor and down-trod. He
was the ultimate champion of the little guy.
Once he released Cats in the Cradle and became financially secure for
life, he dedicated himself almost full time to helping others, in particular
the poor and hungry. Among all the performers of his day, it was he who
spear-headed World Hunger Year, and was central to the creation of the
Presidential Commission on World Hunger. When I saw him in concert, at the
Greek Theatre in Los Angeles in about 1980, he was donating all proceeds from
the sale of his book, and his share of proceeds from one out of every three
concerts he performed to World Hunger. In all, he apparently supported 82
charities, and died driving a Volkswagen. In 1987, six years after his death,
he was awarded a Congressional Gold Medal for his social activism.
But that’s not why I cried
for Harry Chapin.
I cried for Harry Chapin
because I actually got to meet him, after that concert at the Greek Theatre,
standing in line with hundreds of others to have him sign the book of his I’d
just bought. I stood there for over an
hour, waiting, and wondering if he’d eventually just announce that he’d have to
leave to catch a light. But he didn’t leave until he’d signed every single
book, including mine. And when I told him I was a songwriter too (though only
22 and completely unknown, and headed to medical school and likely never going
to become a renowned musician), he seemed genuinely interested. He encouraged
me to follow that dream, even if other things made me put it on hold for awhile.
Even though I was a total stranger, one of hundreds he’d met one-on-one that
night, he cared enough to spend time with me.
I didn’t even think to ask
him for his phone number or address so I could contact him and get advice about
one day making my music heard, because I was too awed just by meeting and
talking with him. But I am confident he would have given them to me. He was THAT kind of person. And until the day
he died, I guess I dreamed that one day I WOULD contact him, when I was ready.
Obviously, it is far too late for that now.
Just the other day, I
happened to hear my favorite Harry Chapin song on a university radio station.
The song, called Mr. Tanner, never would
become a hit – like Cats, or Taxi, or W.O.L.D. – and it certainly would never
appear on a major radio station today. But it was and remains a hit among those
who love Chapin. In the song, Mr. Tanner is a small-town cleaner with a
breathtakingly beautiful voice who sings quietly to himself while he works,
just because he loves to sing. That image, of doing something just for the love
of it, remains with me to this day. It is the reason I started writing
seriously about 7 years ago; and, sixteen books and more than 400 songs later,
why I continue to write today.
I don’t know if my books or
my songs will ever hit a best-seller’s or top 50 list. Or have the impact that
Harry Chapin’s did. But if they don’t, I still hope that some people get to
read or listen to them – and laugh a
little bit, and cry a little bit - and then feel a little richer for it.
Harry Chapin wrote:
Oh if a man tried to take his
time on Earth
And prove before he died what one
man's life could be worth,
I wonder what would happen to this world
My life goal is to live up to
these words. And that is why I, like Harry Chapin, have tried my best to champion
the little guy: those who have fibromyalgia whom the medical establishment have
forgotten; those who are bullied in silence; those who suffer addiction; those
who have mental conditions like autism and Down’s syndrome; and those who just
feel all alone.
And that is why proceeds from
all my books, like Harry Chapin’s, are being donated to charity. You can thank
Harry Chapin for that!
Kevin White
No comments:
Post a Comment