GOODBYE, JOHN.

I was about 20 years old and still in the Navy. A buddy on the Kitty Hawk was living in Chula Vista with a couple guys. Couldn’t for the life of me figure out why anybody would want to live in Chula Vista, but there we were.

He’d called and I’d showed up at the large garden apartment. We had grown up like brothers listening to Steppenwolf and Led Zeppelin, Blind Faith and Cream and such.

We went in the Navy together but got separated so had not seen each other for a while. After a couple shooters, some beer and a little herbal medicine my buddy started to put on an album.

He asked, “You want to listen to some John Prine?”

“Who the hell’s John Prine?” I said.

I’d been listening to a lot of Allman Brothers, Goose Creek Symphony, Leon Russell ...

“Damn, Scott. You don’t know who John Prine is?”

“I been hangin’ out with a bunch of deck apes, Buddy. Guess the subtler nuances have gone by.”

A sort of folksy ballad thing was playing by now. I wasn’t overly impressed. You couldn’t dance to it. Didn’t make you want to stomp your foot or beat your thigh.

So we rattle on with Prine singing in the background until it came,

“daddy won't you take me back to Muhlenberg County

Down by the Green River where Paradise lay

Well, I'm sorry my son, but you're too late in asking

Mister Peabody's coal train has hauled it away.”

Through the fog, I got to thinking. This guy’s not just talking about strip mining. Mister Peabody’s hauled off a lot more than coal.

Years later I got straightened out and had kids. They were  budding
adolescent and music was growing more prevalent. We’d always sung hymns and country stuff like my folks sang while riding down the highway. 

One was prone to ask me about music I thought was important …. that I liked. Of course I told him about The Allman Brothers’ and Led Zeppelin, mostly rock, then from out of the blue I caught myself singing the chorus to John Prine’s “Paradise”. 

Needless to say, he was quite taken. 

I guess Mr. Peabody did haul off an awful lot. Thing is, if we survive long enough, looks like we can walk a good bit of it back home. 

Thank you, John.

See you on the other side.