For BB

There's dirt-poor and then there's the poor into which he was born. Mississippi in 1925, not to mention a prevailing culture at the time that immediately dismissed him because of his skin color. He grew up understanding these realities, but somewhere along the way he dreamed of changing his reality. Then he found the guitar...or maybe the guitar found him.

He taught himself to play it,  and since he'd already been singing in his church choir, he added vocals and created a signature sound that was simultaneously sweet and powerful. He sang on street corners, then began getting invited to play a date here and there. He thought if he could get to Memphis maybe he could get on the radio, and then maybe he could cut a record. Of course, he made it to Memphis and the radio and record gigs happened. And from Memphis, he took the blues to the world.

He was part of the musical lineage that produced Muddy Waters, Sonny Boy Williamson, Howlin' Wolf, Freddie King, Albert King, and many other artists who made the Delta Blues the most powerful music the world has ever heard. And of that group, he was the one whose music traveled the farthest, not only in terms of audience, but influence. He was King of the Blues. He was BB King.

His music lit a fire under young English musicians named Clapton, Richards & Jagger. Two brothers from Florida named Allman were also ignited by the same spark, as was a kid from Texas named Stevie Ray Vaughn. Two Irish kids who'd later come to be known as the Edge and Bono heard his music and love came to town. Today young guns like Gary Clark, Jr. and John Mayer are playing BB's licks.

And then there are the rest of us, those of us who discovered him and thought we'd stumbled upon something new, only to later find that he'd taken something very old and primal and made it even more powerful. The first time I heard "The Thrill is Gone" I wondered why I was just now hearing this, even though I was only 16 at the time.

He carried himself with grace and humility. He loved music and he loved people. He always remembered the place he came from, and carried its influence with him everywhere he went. He was friends with Miles Davis, Charlie Parker, and Frank Sinatra, but he never stopped being that shy kid from Indianola.

He left us last night at the age of 89. Everywhere I've gone today he has been part of every conversation. His music and life transcended race, age, and eras. And it will continue to do so. The thrill will never be gone.

Long live The King.

A Gentle Hero

This post is about and in honor of my friend Diane Bingham, whose long-time battle with cancer ended yesterday morning.

You and I were probably both surprised that we became friends. My work means I do a great deal of talking, while you were always the quietest person in any room. Many would accurately describe me as "intense," while you brought peace and calm to those around you. My faith journey has been (and remains) one with plenty of doubts and questions, while yours seemed to exemplify unbroken certainty in and love for the God who let you struggle with cancer for well over a decade. I always felt calmer in your presence and you made me want to be a better human being. You were so gracious to simply let me be me without judgement, but always with encouragement.

When I received the news of your passing yesterday I was torn between the thoughts I wanted to have and the one I actually had. I wanted to without hesitation think, "The Lord gives, and the Lord takes. Blessed be his name either way." But what I actually thought was, "Dammit, she deserved better!" While many (including some of those reading this now) would be quick to tell me how wrong I was to have that initial thought, you would not have criticized me for it, instead knowing me well enough to know that eventually I would find my way to the thought I wanted to have in the first place. And I know that you're not surprised when I say that I'm not there yet. I also know that you believe I'll get there, even if it takes me a while.

You and I have both lived long enough to know that the word "friendship" is one that is too easily  thrown around, but is far too rarely an actual lived reality. When it happens, it is often surprising. Someone comes into our life who we're not looking for, and maybe we even think they're not the right fit as a friend. But they come along anyway and surprise us with their presence, personhood, with the fact they showed up at just the right time, although we hadn't until then realized there was a space in our life waiting for them.

This describes you and what your friendship brought to me. You were the friend who always brought encouragement, peace, grace, calm, quiet. I am deeply grateful to you for bringing these things to me. I am glad that I've had the privilege to know you. I am sad and angry that you're gone, but I am sad and angry in the midst of hope. I believe it is a hope that you and I share; the hope I have that you now experience a better, fuller life than you've ever known, and the hope you have that I will find my way, even through gritted teeth, to the words, "Blessed be the his name anyway."

Thank you Diane for everything, for most of all being my friend.