Possibilities are fascinating notions to ponder along the journey. Clearly, a strong desire for peace by and for humans must lie at the heart of any serious effort, if we are ever able to rid ourselves of war in the future. Yet, surprisingly, humans are human, and human things occur, when humans are left to the challenge, which leaves us all depending on humanity to play a significant role in this drama.
My desire for world peace met a great obstacle about 40 years ago, this year, as I was driving around 2:00 AM on Friday, August 15th along the northern border of Pennsylvania, on the edge of the swollen shores of the trout infested waters know as the Susquehanna River. I was debating this very topic with my fellow band members. We were known as “the Circles”, an anti-war themed folk-rock trio featuring three part harmonies and an acoustic blend of guitar, bass and viola. Having just recorded some rough tracks in L.A., for our first single, “Home Sweet Home”, we abruptly halted the recording session and darted back across America, as we were invited to be on stage the very first day of what at the time was called The Woodstock Music & Arts Fair.
As we were negotiating a treacherously unstable section of uncharted country roads, oh yeah, seriously folks, in a Red VW Micro Bus, the debate about world peace and our role in it erupted into a horrific argument. Was the mission of our band, promoting world peace, best served by abandoning the recording of our first song, just to simply perform a half dozen tunes at some outdoor concert in a cow pasture in upstate New York? How could this make any difference? The record could potentially reach far more people than just one gig! Bla, bla, bla…
Well, we were humans, in a hot and heavy human disagreement, with everyone in the band having a different human opinion. Our driver, and manager, a human moron named Turner, was opposed to leaving L.A. I was determined to be at the festival. Everyone else was in the middle and nothing was agreeable to anyone, except when we all clutched each other desperately, in an adrenaline moment, as we were suddenly rocked by the loud popping sound of one of our tires bursting. The bus began to swerve, and miraculously Turner seamlessly descended into one of his typical marijuana-induced zones of clarity and zen-like focus, smoothly steering us with one hand, sideways, coasting on two wheels through a churning current of sputtering gravel to arrive with a screaming twist of heavy metal, when we kissed a guard rail, which ripped opened the side of the bus like a can of sardines. In the silence, the beautiful Susquehanna River welcomed us all into the perfection of her bucolic world with babbling and cooing, amidst a backdrop of a jillion horny creepers rubbing their legs together in bristling harmony as they all prepared to mate in the grass below us.
Well. We lived. All of us. But, we never made it to Woodstock, as Turner, you see, neglected to secure a spare tire for the bus, something every tour manager out there know you need to GET RIGHT! And so, on that night, amazingly, “the Circles” broke up. We never finished the record, we never played together again, and our dreams of contributing to the peace movement in hopes of ridding the world of war ended.
Well, we still have war today. And you know, I marvel at the human desire within these awesome humans who champion the cause of freedom around the world, and I weep every time they are thwarted in their heroic attempts. It’s hard. Real hard, what they strive to do. Tiananmen Square, Rwanda, Iran…
And so, I am ashamed that “the Circles” dissolved and abandoned the desire to rid the world of war, through music, over a flat tire. Because, I believe, honestly, that rock and roll can save the world, that’s the point of all of this you know. I mean really end war. If humans could just pack the bus appropriately, write some kick butt anthems, and then all agree on the mission.
What more do we need? Right?
Oh yeah, well, I guess, we just need to never give up.