Riley and I started being friends when I was 14. Several shared interests brought us together, among them The Hobbit, that we both thought of ourselves as writers, and our love of music. In Riley’s case, he actually was a musician who could play any instrument he picked up. He didn’t have the greatest singing voice in the world, but that was okay, because after all, didn’t we love Bob Dylan?
I will confess that I also liked all those other guys whose faces were on the covers of Tiger Beat, 16, and Flip. Not Riley. He knew what was authentic: nobody was better than the Beatles, and no Beatle was as great as John Lennon. Riley indulged my fascination with George Harrison–he even bought me All Things Must Pass. But Riley followed John Lennon down a creative path that included songwriting and art, and John Lennon’s example made Riley feel that it was okay, even preferable, to live a non-conventional life.
Some of the best moments of my teenage years were shared with Riley, especially sitting under the stars with him on those long, hot Southern nights, he with his acoustic guitar, listening to him play and sing Beatles songs. Always at some point he’d play the one that was just for me: And I Love Her. To this day, if I feel beat up by the world, I can listen to that song and feel in my soul how loved I am.
People grow up and their lives go in different directions. Many times Riley and I have lost touch, but we always find each other again. In December of 1980, I was living again in our small Alabama town. On this particular weekend 25 years ago, I’d gone to Tuscaloosa to see a boyfriend. We went out to dinner, and when we got back to his apartment, he turned on the radio.
“I read the news today, oh boy” indeed. I got in my car and drove the three hours home, because I knew where I was needed. Bleak, frozen, hurt days. A miserable conclusion to what had been a hellish year for both Riley and me. Nothing could have put a more painful punctuation mark at the real end of our era, those strange and wonderful seventies.
But the music has endured, and much of what John Lennon wrote is even more powerful and true than when it was new. Today, Give Peace A Chance and Imagine will be played and heard and sung all over the world. But in my head, I’ll be hearing the voice of a teenage boy singing, “Bright are the stars that shine, dark is the sky, I know this love of mine will never die…” The beautiful irony is that Paul McCartney sang that one, but it was Riley and his muses who helped give me a sense of the complex and energizing nature of artistic collaboration.
Today, I remember and thank John Lennon for his gift to the world. I thank my friend Riley for his many gifts to me. I thank my writing partners for helping me be braver with my voice, and all those who encourage me to keep writing what I…imagine.
And on a lighter note, today is the birthday of Famous But On Hiatus Author Rob Byrnes. Happy birthday, FARB.
Other posts about Riley:
October 9, 2008
June 18, 2008
January 21, 2008
January 20, 2008
October 14, 2007
December 27, 2006
June 24, 2006
September 30, 2005