Levon Helm died about 3 weeks ago. His death affected me - not profoundly - but if affected me. He was the drummer for the Band, which made some of the most influential music of the late 1960s and early 1970s (at least in my book). I'm a big fan of the Band in general and Levon Helm in particular. A few years ago, Jude surprised me with tickets to see Levon Helm and his Midnight Ramble at the Ryman Auditorium. Especially now, I'm really glad I had the chance to see him play live.
Last Sunday, J.P. and I were leaving Bongo Java before church and I put the Band's "Songs from Big Pink" in my truck's cd player. J.P. fussed for a minute or two, while I tried to find the song I wanted to play for him. As soon as "the Weight" started playing, J.P. got quiet, which is typically does when he likes a song. As the song played, I glanced at him a couple of times in the rear view mirror and he was sitting still, looking contemplatively out the window. When the song ended, he snapped out of his reverie and said, "play that song again, Daddy." And I did. Actually, at his request, I played it three or four more times.
When we got to where we were going and I turned my truck off, J.P. looked at me earnestly and said, "I like that song, Daddy! I like the Weight!" I held his hand as we walked inside, thinking to myself that somewhere Levon Helm was smiling.
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