Some of the people in my Sunday evening online knitting (and other stuff) group are old enough to remember "The Day The Music Died". I am not, and at least one other person in the group tonight wasn't. But several persons said they did.
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| AP file photo of the memorial. |
Sixty-five years ago yesterday, the small plane carrying Buddy Holly, Ritchie Valens, and JP 'The Big Bopper' Richardson, crashed during a snowstorm near Clear Lake, Iowa. All three performers, plus the pilot, Roger Peterson, were killed. The story has been told in films as well as Don McLean's classic song.
Because they died before I was born, I didn't know much about Buddy Holly until the biopic came out when I was a teenager. But I did know Ritchie Valens - or, some of his music - because I spent part of my childhood in Texas, and on the local stations "La Bamba" and "Donna" others of his songs were in regular rotation. I remember being surprised when the film came out a decade later because it seemed to me he was alive, or why was his music on the radio all the time when I was a child?
That's what classic music is all about. It doesn't die.
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