The Day the Music Died

We visited the Buddy Holly museum in Lubbock one year and Anna was drawn to a picture on the wall.

"Who's that?!" she asked with excitement. I turned and looked at the dreamy expression as she looked at his face.

"That's Elvis, honey," I said.


This look? Spans time. Elvis is sexy to teen girls no matter the year. I now understand why parents reacted to Elvis the way they did. It wasn't him or the music, it was the way their teenaged girls looked at him. This is a boy that would make you lie to your mother, if that's what it took.

It's ironic to me that Anna is in the musical "Bye, Bye, Birdie" (the rock star character Birdie is based on Elvis).

We had drama tonight and it was about a boy, of course. And it makes me crazy. Or her crazy. Us crazy.

I don't even want to go into it all. "What are you going to do? Blog this?!" Anna said at one point in our argument. Kids these days think they know everything.

It's the anniversary of Buddy Holly's death on February 3rd. I tried to take the kids to the crash site in an Iowa corn field one summer on our way to Minnesota, but I couldn't find it and the kids were hot and annoyed, and we drove on.

Buddy Holly's generation was the first generation of teenagers - the teen aged culture with its crazy rock and roll records. Teenagers exhaust me. I do love the music, but the drama I could do without.

Rave on, man.