What’s goin’ on
If you ever hear I鈥檝e been hit by a truck, a train, or a wheelbarrow, rush to the hospital and blast this in my ear: 鈥淢other, Mother there鈥檚 too many of you crying 鈥︹��
One line and I鈥檓 already yanking out my IV, then I鈥檓 dancing around the emergency room.
鈥淏rother, Brother, Brother 鈥� there鈥檚 far too many of you dying 鈥︹��
By now, I鈥檝e checked out of the hospital, and I鈥檓 heading home.
Fifty years after I first heard those haunting words, with that searing musical accompaniment, I still feel compelled to stop what I鈥檓 doing and take flight with Marvin Gaye.
Some music does that to me.
(Mr. Gaye released his historic 鈥淲hat鈥檚 Goin鈥� On鈥� album on Jan. 20, 1971.)
The ode to the angst of war and life in the United States still sounds fresh. After hearing it for the umpteenth time, I can still hear things in it I鈥檝e never heard before.
I鈥檓 rounding the corner to my 73rd birthday. I鈥檓 old.
I watched most of the Grammy Awards last week.
Hardly a single tune during that entire three-hour-and-43-minute broadcast encouraged me to pat my feet.
Did I tell you I鈥檓 old?
This isn鈥檛 a commentary about the state of today鈥檚 music.
Well, maybe it is.
I watch a lot of YouTube videos of the recording artists of the 1960s, 鈥�70s, and 鈥�80s online. And I take note of the comments below them.
Without fail, self-identified young people comment about wanting today鈥檚 music to sound as good as the music from decades ago.
Young folks, too, appreciate harmony, melody, and accomplished musicianship.
鈥淚 know you wanna leave me. But I refuse to let you go. If I have to beg and plead for your sympathy, I don鈥檛 mind 鈥檆ause you mean that much to me,鈥� said the Temptations when they sang 鈥淎in鈥檛 Too Proud to Beg鈥� in 1966.
The Temptations were my musical heroes when I was a teenager.
As far as I was concerned, all of the other singing groups were on the J.V. team.
The Temptations would come on the radio and anything within reach would become my microphone.
At the dinner table, I鈥檇 snatch a drumstick from a turkey and make it a mike in my tireless quest to reproduce every Temptations move ever made.
My parents would have to wait until a song ended 鈥� so we could finish dinner.
David Ruffin, one of the Temp鈥檚 lead singers, was my favorite.
He was tall. I was tall. He was thin. I was thin. He wore glasses. I wore glasses. He could make women swoon when he sang. I wore glasses!
(The name David Ruffin isn鈥檛 familiar? 鈥淚鈥檝e got sunshine, on a cloudy day 鈥︹�� That鈥檚 him.)
I first encountered Mr. Ruffin at the old Twin Coaches on Route 51 in 1967.
I鈥檇 hounded my parents into taking me to see the Temptations, and I was determined to get David Ruffin鈥檚 autograph.
Between the first and second shows, I decided I鈥檇 attack (with a pen and autograph book, of course).
He was sitting in a limousine. It was my chance to walk up, get his attention, and discuss my future impact on the greatest singing group in world history.
So what if I couldn鈥檛 sing a note. I was skinny and I wore glasses, doggone it.
Unfortunately, my plan of attack failed.
Mr. Ruffin saw me approach his limousine, so he turned completely around in his seat so he couldn鈥檛 see me.
He had no use for autograph seekers.
I was devastated.
I was so traumatized by the experience I haven鈥檛 been able to sing using a turkey drumstick since.
But there鈥檚 more.
In the mid-1980s, while working for Entertainment Tonight, I interviewed Ruffin and told him that story about the Twin Coaches.
I鈥檇 even taken my old autograph book to the interview.
鈥淭o Al, my man. David Ruffin,鈥� he gladly wrote.
A few years later, Ruffin died of a drug overdose in Philadelphia.
He was only 50 years old.
鈥淚 know it might sound strange, but I wish it would rain.鈥�
Edward A. Owens is a multi-Emmy Award winner, former reporter, and anchor for Entertainment Tonight, and 40-year TV news and newspaper veteran. E-mail him at freedoms@bellatlantic.net.