Poteat
Singer, songwriter, and avid environmentalist John Denver died 29 years ago this month in a plane crash.
Just before Atlanta Braves center fielder Michael Harris II stepped to the plate on the evening of Thursday, Oct. 1, the raucous, standing-room-only crowd at Truist Park was singing the John Denver classic, “Take Me Home, Country Roads.”
No doubt inspired by the song that was a mega-hit 40 years before he was born, Harris blasted a three-run home run and the Braves went on to pound the Phillies and win the first round of the MLB playoffs.
The song inspired Harris to wallop a home run into the stadium’s Chop House. The same song took me on a journey back in time to an era more than five decades ago.
During that time, in the early 1970s, parents and their children used to listen to the same radio stations and, sometimes, even love and enjoy the same songs.
For my mother and me, the radio station whose tunes resounded through our kitchen in the mornings was WSVM, 1490 AM, Valdese.
The morning disc jockey was a young fellow named Chuck Moseley, who billed himself as “The Livermush Kid.”
The morning show’s main sponsor was a mom ‘n’ pop grocery called Walsh’s Market, which sold the very best homemade livermush in the region.
While Mom was cooking breakfast and I was preparing for my daily trudge to Drexel High School, “The Kid” would fill our mornings with the smooth sounds of early ‘70s pop.
Mom and I both loved James Taylor’s “Fire and Rain,” Neil Diamond’s “Cracklin’ Rosie,” The Temptations’ “Just My Imagination,” and Neil Young’s “Heart of Gold.” But our particular favorite was John Denver’s “Take Me Home, Country Roads.”
Neither of us had ever been to West Virginia, but there was something in that song, “I hear her voice, in the morning hours she calls me, the radio reminds me of my home far away,” that touched our hearts.
Until her death at age 90, Mom would turn up the volume whenever “Country Roads” was played. Me? I still do.
For me, “Country Roads” was just the beginning of a love affair with John Denver, a gentle man and his gentle music that has now stretched across nearly six decades.
Denver’s hits provided the soundtrack for my college years — “Rocky Mountain High,” “Leaving on a Jet Plane,” “Back Home Again,” “Annie’s Song,” “Sweet Surrender,” “Thank God, I’m a Country Boy,” “Fly Away,” “I’m Sorry,” and “Calypso.”
A cruel joke states that Denver’s career died long before he perished in a plane crash 29 years ago this month, Oct. 12, 1997. And it is certainly true that his popularity, record sales, and radio play peaked in the mid-to-late ‘70s.
But I would contend that he became a better writer, a far stronger singer, and a more powerful voice for the environment, for the poor and the hungry, and for the dignity of all humanity as he progressed through his 40s and into his 50s, even if not nearly as many people were listening.
The granny glasses disappeared. The shaggy hair with the bangs vanished also. More importantly, his voice grew deeper, richer, and more mature.
His later songs sometimes ache with anguish, as in “Seasons of the Heart,” his intimate portrayal of the breakup of his marriage.
His later songs sometimes soar with majesty, as in “All This Joy,” which celebrates the common links we all share as humans.
And, his later songs are often filled with spirituality, as in “Falling Leaves, The Refugees” which reminds us of our duties to one another and to the planet we inhabit.
I was blessed to see John Denver perform in concert three times, the final time just a few months before his death. Those shows were filled with his warmth, his humor, and his compassion.
Were he alive today, John Denver would be shocked and dismayed that the desecration of the Earth that he so eloquently warned against has not only continued but picked up speed.
Were he alive today, John Denver would be dismayed that American society has grown so fragmented, so divided, so toxic, and so filled with hatred and vitriol.
Were he alive today, John Denver would weep at our nation’s treatment of immigrants, of the poor, of the elderly, and of our children.
But were he alive today, at age 82, I have no doubt that John Denver would still be writing, still be singing, and still be doing all he could to bring about a more peaceful world.
That his voice was silenced far too soon still makes me sad, but I am comforted by the legacy of song he left behind.
I’ll close this tribute with a verse from “Falling Leaves,” a selection that seems especially appropriate as we face another autumn and long for another spring.
“Thank you for this precious day
These gifts you give to me
My heart, so full of love for you
Sings praise for all I see
If I could have one wish on Earth
Of all I could conceive
T’would be to see another spring
And touch the falling leaves.”
