2012 tributes

I missed writing about some important deaths, for one reason or another. I especially wish I’d written up Kitty Wells, Duck Dunn, and Johnny Otis (Hand Jive!), but those are the breaks. Friends with connections to the families said relatives of Sally Ride and Donna Summer saw what I’d written about their passings, which was gratifying. Here are some farewells, with the date they were written — usually, but not always, the day the person died.

2-19 Whitney Houston

Which did life break first?
Wings, spirit, body, voice? Now,
Silence, songbird. Rest.

2-29 Davy Jones (written the previous December, for his last birthday)
Ah, darling Davy
Child TV star, then trained
To be a jockey

But the stage beckoned
“Oliver’s” artful dodger
Made him a real star

Ed Sullivan Show
Had “Oliver’s” cast, same night
Of Beatles’ debut

Girls all went crazy
Davy knew what he wanted
Monkees made it true

3-27 Adrienne Rich, feminist poet and author

Wilderness flashlight
One tiny, brave beam cuts through
Lonely, then leading

3-28 Earl Scruggs
Heavenly breakdown
God said, “Earl, I need you to
“Come in on banjo”

Banjo pioneer
And picker extraordinaire
Rest in peace, Earl Scruggs

4-5 “One louder” haiku (Jim Marshall)

Start with a Bassman
Separate amp from speakers
Use four 12-inches

Close cabinet back
Add higher-gain pre-amp valves
Post-volume filter

Overdrive sooner
Treble frequencies boosted
Voilà! The Marshall

Townshend, Entwistle
Stacked ’em — the world got louder
Cream, Hendrix echoed

Dozens of models
Followed — famed followers, too
Too many to count

Ideas have lives
As do great sounds and moments
Decay and sustain

Marshall, the amp king
Lived to 11, times 8
Rest in non peace, Jim

4-18 “American icon” haiku

Drape Bandstand in black
Then keep on rockin’ — Dick Clark
Would want it that way

4-20 “Take a load off” haiku (Levon Helm)

Divine harmony
Levon, drums, mic, stage, no fright
One with everything

5-8 Wild Things haiku

‘Bye, Maurice Sendak
You showed us we would conquer
Though there be monsters

5-17 Donna Summer

Heaven’s disco ball
Just added a few facets
Rock in peace, hot stuff

Cancer’s never fair
Somehow it’s even more wrong
For Donna Summer

Queen of an era
When people lived on dance floors
Parties never stopped

“Heaven Knows,” “Bad Girls”
And “Love to Love You Baby”
“On the Radio”

When parties did stop
They all stopped with the same song:
Ms. Summer’s “Last Dance”

‘Bye Donna Summer
Thanks for all the dance floor grooves
Of our well spent youth

7-23 Trailblazer haiku

Sailing through the stars
This one last time, for all time
Liftoff, Sally Ride

8-21 “We Could Use Some Laughs” haiku

‘Bye Phyllis Diller
Blazed trail of tears (of laughter)
Queen of one-liners

Self deprecation
And domestic disasters
Made thousands of jokes

“Bury the laundry”
“Skip baby’s bath — he won’t tell”
Among your fine tips

“Goodnight, We Love You”
DVD captured career,
Your many talents

Mom and I watched it
In her final days — maybe
The last laughs she had

Hope now you’re having
The last laugh because no one
Could laugh quite like you

‘Bye Phyllis Diller
Loved your alligator shoes
Or were you barefoot?

8-26 Neil Armstrong

Neil Armstrong answered
Moon’s timeless pull — fast footprints
In history’s tides

In heavens, made real
Eons of human dreaming
Now he joins the stars

9-26 Smooth exit haiku

‘Bye Andy Williams
Moon River, now River Styx
You’re crossing in style

10-1 A.O. Sulzberger

Modesty, clear thought
Arthur Ochs “Punch” Sulzberger
A bold vision, too

Punch started quite young
Quickly grew into the job
And never looked back

Put press freedom first
And profits a close second
Knew papers need both

The Old Grey Lady
Added color on his watch
Took on new topics

But held to its core
Accuracy, good judgment
High integrity

World’s greatest paper
Made its mistakes, some big ones,
But fixed them, moved on

Pentagon Papers
Tested resolve, but not faith
In First Amendment

Serious business
But Punch also had the time
For a laugh, a pun

‘Bye, Punch Sulzberger
Gentleman, and gentle man
Steady at the helm

10-21 Veteran haiku

‘Bye, George McGovern
Of Mitchell, South Dakota
From prairie to dust

A minister’s son
Bomber pilot war hero
One wife throughout life

Midwestern solid
His “crazy” causes were peace,
Feeding the hungry

History professor
Desired to learn from the past
Avoid its mistakes

Cast as cowardly
He really was a lion
With courage untold

I heard him speak once
To thousands of Legionaires
At their convention

Said America
Was strong and great — but misguided
About Vietnam

And telling that crowd
We were fighting the wrong war
Took tremendous guts

Then “nutty lib” was
Trounced by Mr. Sanity
Tricky Dick Nixon

McGovern lived on,
Lived long, doing what he could
To help others

Whatever one thinks
Of his politics, no one
Should question his heart

In ’67,
This date, thousands protested
War in Vietnam

45 years on
George McGovern breathed his last
Peaceful warrior, rest

12-5 Dave Brubeck

Take five, Dave Brubeck
After all, you did it all
In your long career

Classical training
Then jazz, jazz, jazz — cracked the charts
And sold a million

5/4 and 9/8
11/4 — signatures
Few others had mined

Conquered Concord, Kool,
Newport, college campuses
With classic quartet

Then you wrote ballets,
Cantatas, orchestral works,
Oratorios

Time to stop, marvel
And call “Time Out” one last time
Brubeck, over, and out

12-20 Sandy Hook haiku

1 insane person
And too many God damned guns
We’ve seen this before

20 empty desks
40 empty little shoes
Countless empty laps

20 empty beds
20 holes in the night sky
With light leaking through

20 small coffins
20 headstones each weighing
As much as the world

And 8 large coffins
6 holding brave protectors
Can we be as brave?

Complicated, yes,
But clear: Unless we’re as brave
We’ll see this again

“Hail, no” haiku

Ever was the quest
Explore, discover, conquer
Claim it for the crown

But conquest exacts
This dear price — exploration,
Exploitation blur

Possession, not love,
Never yields a true victor
But spoils aplenty

To quest, not conquest
Let us discover anew
— With understanding

“Tip of the cap” haiku

This date, ’41
Doubleheader, 6 for 8
Average: .406

Ted Williams the last
To bat .400 — though Brett
Took a run at it

Williams also won
Two Triple Crowns, earned nickname
The Splendid Splinter

No matter your field
“Get a pitch you can handle”
Was his sage advice

He lost 5 seasons
Not to injury — two wars
Flying fighter planes

Such a flawed hero
Cranky, no World Series ring
His refuge, at bat

So few things are sure
In this world, this life. Here’s one:
Ted Williams could hit

This date in ’60
His final at bat — home run
Home, plate, one last time

“Don’t worry we’re gonna find a way” haiku

Bruce Springsteen, Sept. 23, 1949, Long Branch, N.J.

Bruce Springsteen, the voice
Of everyman’s decency
And desperate hope

Whatever you’ve felt
He lets you know he’s felt too
Along life’s highway

Youthful rebellion
Dangerous romantic dreams
The thirst to live large

Darkness, weary pain
“Debts … no honest man can pay”
Crime of life wasted

Friends like blood brothers,
Bonds that last even after
Some of those hearts stop

No one’s life’s too small
No issue, event too big
For his songs to touch

9/11’s toll
America’s salvation
Lives redeemed by love

Rocker laureate
Guitar, grit, integrity
Happy birthday, Boss

“She was quite a dame” haiku

Agatha Christie
Born this date, 1890
That part’s no mystery

But how did she sell
Hundreds of millions of books?
No mystery either

Her detectives had
Something for everybody
Poirot, Miss Marple

Poirot, so fussy,
So quirky, so proud to say
He could not be fooled

Jane Marple, so plain,
Seemed so kind, ordinary
To charm and disarm

Both made her readers
Want to think along with them
Believe brains would win

Her plots were good too:
Roger Ackroyd’s twist ending,
“And Then There Were None”

When she killed Poirot
He got a front page obit
In the New York Times

Agatha’s knowledge
Of poisons, the Middle East
Came in quite handy

Her world appealed, too
Murder was a distraction
Not stuff of nightmares

Once killer was caught
Life could go back to normal
Genteel, well ordered

Her books were candy
Not meat, potatoes, blood, guts.
Do pass the bon bons!

Yes, Dame Agatha
We still devour your treats
Print, or PBS

From a different age
You came but you’ll last so long
As life’s a mystery

“Strength beyond words” haiku

Clara Josephine Wieck Schumann, Sept. 13, 1819 – May 20, 1896

Hail Clara Schumann
Virtuoso pianist
Changed recital’s form

Was among the first
To play long, involved pieces
Strictly from memory

Prodigy who grew
Into artist, composer
Well regarded, loved

Mother of 8, wife
And champion of her husband,
Composer Robert

Husband worshipped her —
Robert, long before Tom Cruise,
Said, “She completes me”

Endured children’s deaths,
Husband’s madness, and played on
With strength beyond words

Tower of talent,
Mettle — admired by Chopin,
Mendelssohn, and Brahms

Held strong opinions
Blasted Wagner and Bruckner
Crossed Liszt off her list

Too often footnote
Today Clara gets her due
Google her — you’ll see

Haiku for a country music day

Written Sept. 8, 2011

Jimmie Rodgers, Sept. 8, 1897 – May 26, 1933
Patsy Cline, Sept. 8, 1932 – March 5, 1963

Patsy Cline sang ’em
Just right every time, a voice
That never gets old

“Country-politan”
Arrangements didn’t help her
Still, her vocals shined

Honky-tonk, heartaches,
Come hither, her voice conveyed
So effortlessly

Didn’t need music
She could sing it all by ear
And with perfect pitch

But most of all she
Could cut through a song’s layers
And lay its heart bare

“I Fall to Pieces”
“Why Can’t He Be You?” “Heartaches”
“Crazy” — crazy good

With just the right pause
She brought down revelation
Singing “She’s Got You”

Last gig? KCK!
Then a plane crash took her life
Falling star heartbreak

So tonight let’s go
Walking after midnight, say
“Sweet dreams, Patsy Cline”

Before Patsy Cline
Before danged near everyone
Was Jimmie Rodgers

Jimmie Rodgers lived
32 years, enough to
Start country music

“The Singing Brakeman”
True troubador hit the road
When he turned 13

His dad made him quit
Reeled him back in, got him jobs
Working the railroad

Jimmie stayed restless
Lessons from guitar hobos
Added to his licks

He played when he could
Mixing music with the rails
Americana

Tuberculosis
Got him off the rails, gave him
More time for music

Played and toured a lot
Did all right with weekly show
Early radio

And then through town came
The Victor Talking Machine
Company — Records!

New technology
Jimmie cut two songs and made
$100

Then came “Blue Yodel”
Sold half a million copies
Made him some real bucks

TB took his breath
Made it harder to record
Got him in the end

But he left his mark
On scores of country singers
Though he died so young

Hear that train whistle?
Jimmie Rodgers heard it too
And made his magic

Patsy, she’s got me

Jimmie, waiting for a train

Sept. 7 haiku

Buddy Holly, Sept. 7, 1936 – Feb. 3, 1959
Keith Moon, Aug. 23, 1946 – Sept. 7, 1978
Warren Zevon, Jan. 24, 1947 – Sept. 7, 2003
Chrissie Hynde, Sept. 7, 1951

“I play Buddy Holly every night before I go on. That keeps me honest.”
— Bruce Springsteen

September 7th
2 born, 2 died, rock rolls on
Much joy, some sorrow

Buddy Holly put
Lubbock on rock ’n’ roll’s map
Pioneering place

First saw Elvis there,
’55, opened for him
Before year was out

Never wasted time
Burned like a comet’s swift mark
Three albums, two years

“Peggy Sue,” “Rave On,”
“Not Fade Away,” “True Love Ways”
Let’s say, “Well … All Right!”

Like that comet he
Fell from the sky, but song’s wrong
Music didn’t die

Yes, a few came first
Little Richard, Elvis, Chuck
On rock ’n’ roll’s trail

But Buddy’s the link
From them to so many: Stones,
Beatles, Dylan, Bruce

Through those big glasses
He saw the future, refused
To wait, made it now

Tonight we’ll rave on
Some of us do every day
Refuse to wait too

Speaking of ravers
Tormenter and tormented
Keith Moon died this date

A great drummer who
Blew up drum kits — and toilets
He loved to raise hell

Gene Krupa, Hal Blaine
Inspired him, but Moon was
Thunder and lightning

Stories of excess
Were legend, but what demons,
What pain lurked beneath?

Moon had a great run
But no one could keep the man
From self-destruction

Night before death saw
“The Buddy Holly Story,”
Dined with Beatle Paul

Now Moon rests in peace
God knows there wasn’t any
When he was alive

Warren Zevon lived,
Wrote, sang, played, did everything
Way out on the edge

Werewolves, mad gunners
Larger than life characters
Filled songs to the brim

But underneath it,
Drinking couldn’t quench the pain,
Empty-handed heart

For all his sadness,
Though, his songs made connections,
Shared true emotions

Friends sobered him up
Music saved him, till cancer
Ripped his lungs out, Jim

He left on “The Wind”
We promised to keep him in
Our hearts for a while

The real rockin’ deal
Lives in many, like Chrissie;
Hynde’s no pretender

Artist, journalist
Her talents many but she
Just wanted to rock

And she exploded
Just like a Keith Moon drum kit
When she got her chance

She sang “I’m special”
With a Jagger-like swagger
And damn she was right

Band mates came and went,
Lived and died, but she always
Kept the beat going

Tangled with Limbaugh
Passion for animal rights
Rebel with causes

61 today
Still plays when the spirit moves
Rock on, Chrissie Hynde

Hai(5)ku

Sept. 6, 1995 — Cal Ripken’s breaks Lou Gehrig’s record

Some motivation
To leave it all on the field
And come back for more

Some recreation
In hard work — and afterward
When a job’s well done

Some inspiration
To go on no matter what
Iron Man Ripken