The Day the Music Died

Not a February goes by that the loss of Buddy Holly, doesn't come to mind. Just as the beauty of the classic cars from my generation will live forever, so will the music. That bitterly cold day in 1959 when a small plane crash took the lives of three young pop music stars has been called the day the music died...and I suppose it did for some. Now it's almost as if it was a predestined exclamation point on the demise of a unique and innocent era that gave way to wars, strife, drugs, irresponsibility and vanishing civility.

Getting old is not something I relish until I realize how lucky I am to have been alive to see and experience those good times when tailfins ruled the road and songs were about love and happiness, not anger, hate and vulgarity.

Buddy Holly gained his fame to the beat of rock and roll, but songs like this proved that even without the feverish thunder of drums, the twang of a guitar, or the wailing of a saxophone, he made the music, and the world loved it any way he did it.