One of My Personal Favorites: “Home”

Sheena Eastons’s “Morning Train,” Supertramp’s “Take the Long Way Home,” John Denver’s “Country Roads,” and Neil Diamond’s “Heartlight” were the four-in-a-row that opened one of my favorite “Celebration Rock” programs. (That particular program goes back to the years that CR was produced at the old EZ-104, WEZS, which featured a four-in-a-row format. To fit my show with the station’s format, the best I could do was open with four hits, but trying to group four songs together throughout the hour screwed up my own format…so I compromised, for awhile, later dropping the whole idea.)

The theme of that show was celebrating the meaning of “home.” If you know the four songs cited above, you can see the theme begin to take shape. (The Diamond song was one he wrote for “E.T.,” who wanted to go home, but the song was never used in the movie.) Finding music for that program wasn’t at all difficult, though I had to use John Denver and Carole King twice to fill the hour. No problem; all four of their songs fit the theme nicely. Here is the “discography,” and, thanks to Billie Brightwell’s unpublished notebook of CR script excerpts, I can share some of my meditations.

After the opening four songs came Bruce Springsteen’s “My Hometown.” Then an oldie: Albert Hammond’s “It Never Rains in Southern California,” about a guy who yearns for fame in L.A., but who, like the prodigal son, sings “I want to go home!” Next came the Alan Parsons Project: “Let Me Go Home.” Carole King’s “Home Again” included the words, “I want to be home again, and feeling right.” “Wandering Shepherd” by Dan Fogelberg was the next cut, a gospel song that assured, “Homeless believer, find here a home.”

REO Speedwagon’s “Can’t Fight This Feeling” also sang of coming home. “It’s time to bring this ship into the shore, And throw away the oars, forever.” (As is often the case with all of us, I mis-heard part of the lyric, making it fit what I wanted it to say, instead of what it actually said. To me a key line that fit my theme was something about a candle in the window on a dark, cold winter’s night. Lovely image, of course, but not what the lyric said. The real words were about a candle in the wind. Still, the rest of the song certainly carried through the theme, that part about throwing away the oars indicating a desire to arrive and stay home.)

One would be very surprised if I hadn’t played Simon and Garfunkel’s “Homeward Bound.” So I did. And then the second Carole King contribution, the title cut from her “Welcome Home” album. “And through all that I’ve been blessed with, I feel certain I’m where I’m supposed to be. Welcome home.” What a great song! I followed that with the second John Denver song of the hour, “The Wings that Fly Us Home.” The words by Joe Henry conclude, “The spirit…it’s the fire and the wings that fly us home.” The last full song featured on this program was another natural: Kenny Loggins’ “Celebrate Me Home.” As I brought the show to a close, I reprised the Carole King song “Welcome Home.”

Now, to some script excerpts:

Home: It’s a noun, but it comes with all the emotional baggage of a train full of adjectives!

 

What image does that word project in your mind? I suppose as soon as we hear it we might get an image of a house or neighborhood or a family…it all depends on what our personal home was or is like. For many of us who make a solid distinction between “home” and “house,” the word home means warmth, security, family, roots. For others it may be a place to be escaped — a stifling environment — a heavy anchor for a life that yearns to set sail on a prodigal’s adventure. Maybe, on the other hand, home is a place to escape to — a sanctuary for those who feel they’ve failed at something…

college or a job or a marriage; or a place to cling to when the insecur­ity of the outside world seems to threa­ten.

 

What are some words that describe what a home is? Not your home or my home, but just home…a place to live, a place to go back to. “Home,” the poet wrote, “is where when you go there they have to take you in,” shelter, “a roof over out heads,” a setting for family, a place with rooms, and, if you’re lucky, a room of your own.

 

A home has been likened to a cas­tle– a place to be safe, a fortress of security. Imagine the plight, then, of the homeless — the wanderer, the refugee, the alien, the street people. Imagine, no where–no place– to call home — no security or privacy or safety.

 

I think I know why churches take the lead in providing shelter or sanct­uary. You see, they follow the One whose parents were told “There’s no room for you here.” It was of him that it was said, “He had no place to lay his head.” In a very real sense, when a church opens its door as a shelter or supports those who do; when a church declares itself a sanctuary to those who have fled persecution and danger; when the community of faith welcomes strangers, we welcome Christ…home.

…There’s a profound realism to face in life when it comes to “home.” Jesus teaches about his unity with his followers, comparing it to a vine and its branches. “Abide in me and I will abide in you” he said, meaning live in me, or dwell in me, all different translations of the original Greek. But the Jerusalem Bible puts it this way: Make your home in me, as I make mine in you.” Those are words that indicate a deep, spiritual union, reminding us once again that the realm of God is within us…Perhaps that means opening our lives to the God who wants to live in us as we desire to dwell in God. At-one-ment.

_____________ 

A footnote: that show was first recorded in 1983, I think. It was rerun a number of times. I also did a program on the theme “Hometowns” using the Springsteen cut as an anchor, and including John Mellencamp’s “Small Town” and Simon and Garfunkel’s “My Little Town.”

Confession: I Was an Amateur

I did my first radio work in college, on both the campus carrier current AM system and a local FM station: pop music, features, straight announcing. In seminary, I was staff announcer for the classical FM station that grew into a charter member of NPR. Then came “Celebration Rock,” from its predecessor “Showcase,” then through its syndication, and all the other radio programs that “sprouted” from that ministry. Intermixed in all that, as I’ve already noted, was my hobby: various jazz shows.

Here’s the thing: I didn’t know a thing about radio from a technical point of view, and I knew even less about music. In college, my friends Tom and Mark knew the engineering end of the medium. Mark had been a radio junkie of sorts, and Tom was the technical wizard who knew how to make a radio from a cereal box and a transmitter from an old shoe. (Not really, but close to the truth.) All I knew to do in college was read what was in front of me without stumbling too much. In seminary, I got the impression that the radio station and its remote transmitter facility were built from cast-off spare parts, but John and Sam knew how to make us sound good. All I knew how to do there was to read what was in front of me, record transmitter readings (though I had no idea what those numbers meant), and cue up records and tapes. 

When I started my own show (see previous entries, starting from the beginning), I wrote  what was in front of me, listened to Dick Reuss’s advice about rock music, and experimented with editing tape to make me sound better than if I had been live. Even when I finally got my “own” studio home for “Celebration Rock” and the other programs I did, it was Sam Straus, the seminary station engineer, who designed, installed, and maintained the equipment. I knew diddly about how it all worked…except patch cords; I was good at patch cords.

All right, I did know a little more: I knew how to clean tape heads, though not how to align them. I knew how to change a turntable stylus, but not the drive belt. And I knew how to keep levels in range; black pointers and red lines were within my learning curve. Still, even when I began working in video, I knew how to connect things and push the right buttons, and I did have an eye for a good shot, but how it all worked or how to fix it when it didn’t…no clue. Thank God, literally, for those who had clues.

And music? I knew what I liked. I knew the sounds I grew up with, mostly the big bands and pop singers my parents enjoyed. I knew the sounds that surrounded me as I grew up, during the first years of good old rock ‘n’ roll. And once I started playing music on the radio, I paid attention to trends and kept up pretty well. I knew enough to know that not every record could segue smoothly and pleasingly into the next…something about “keys”… but to this day I can’t even read music except for the bass line of the hymnbook. 

My Dad was a drummer and played in his high school drum corp. Mom played saxophone in the high school band. So, one would think that I could have been somewhat of a musician. In second grade, I took drum lessons, but it didn’t take the elementary music teacher long to call my mother and tell her that I had no sense of rhythm, something ordinarily required for percussionists. In sixth grade, I thought I might try trumpet lessons, but the instrumental music teacher, Mr. Stahl, said I had long arms and I’d fit a trombone well. I think I took 2-3 years worth of lessons at school, even playing in a “concert” or two, but practicing wasn’t in my daily schedule. So, by the time I reached high school, my only relationship to music was in the marching band…carrying the American flag in the color guard (my long arms coming in real handy there). But Mr. Stahl also asked me to be the band announcer for concerts, and my announcing career was born! (In one concert, I pronounced Respighi correctly, but screwed up Orion. Why do I remember that?)

Just before getting married, I came into some money, about $20, and bought what I had considered to be my last “toy.” It was a Hohner Chromonica, and I still have it. Everybody  can learn to play the harmonica! Except me, apparently. I’ve had the thing forty years and I can only play the first few lines of “Silent Night,” and the last lines of “Rock of Ages.” If there’s ever a funeral at Christmastime, call me. Why even keep the thing? Playing it on long car trips helps keep me awake.

The bottom line is this: much of my ministry, much of my life, was devoted to playing music on the radio, and technically I knew nothing about either. Remember that old TV ad line? “I’m not a real doctor, but I play one on TV.” Well, I’m not a real  air personality, but I play one on the radio. That’s how I felt one afternoon at Richmond’s old John Marshall Hotel when I was announcing a jazz concert there. I think it was the well-known sax player Skip Gailes who publicly thanked me for helping out that day, calling me “the jazz doyen of Richmond.” Little did he know that all I could do was cue up records, read jacket notes, and sound friendly and knowledgeable.  

As for “Celebration Rock,” my reputation was that of the young, then older, Presbyterian minister who was an “expert” in rock, the youth culture, and media. Maybe. I did  play one on the radio.

Celebrating the Temporary

I may have mentioned this occasion in passing early on in this e-journal, but since it was such a memorable late afternoon that spring, I’ll share the journey. When “Celebration Rock” was still in its very first years, I was invited to lead a service of worship at the Light Coffee House at a Methodist Church in Richmond’s north-side neighborhood, not far from the seminary. (The “light” refers to the Light of the World, not the coffee!) The custom was that the invited worship leader had complete freedom to design a service appropriate to the setting and according to one’s own interests and gifts.

I chose a theme based on a book I had just read, Celebrate the Temporary, by Clyde Reid. The title said it all, that we must take life day by day, and although there are eternal truths, every moment passes and all is a process of here today, gone tomorrow, breathe in, and out, one step forward and then what was ahead is suddenly behind. The book wasn’t meant to speak of futility, but of recognizing every temporary moment as a gift, the present present. Yesterday is past; let it go. “Do not worry about tomorrow…” Jesus said in the Sermon on the Mount. Today, this moment, is all we really have.

So, I shared something of the book as we, the 15-20 of us (mostly high school, some college aged youth) gathered in that upstairs room set apart for a coffee house. The sparse liturgy was focused on the theme, and my meditation used some hit music to explore the idea of celebrating the temporary, just as I would have on the radio show. (“Does Anybody Know What Time It Is?” by Chicago, “Turn, Turn, Turn” by the Byrds, and “Time for Living” by the Association were three of the songs.) We talked about past, future, and present, about making the best use of the time we have. And then I had planned to send everybody on a walk around the neighborhood, a walk alone in silence. I suggested a list of things to listen for, to look for, to celebrate in the moment, and asked everyone to make a mental note of things they encountered that they might consider temporary gifts that came from God’s good earth. We’d share those moments when we got back.

As soon as we left the old church house, the skies threatened rain. But we walked anyway. Within minutes a gentle shower began to fall, and it became the highlight of our worship experience. We each took our own path around the neighborhood, felt the rain on our faces, saw the glisten of raindrops on grassy lawns, smelled the fragrance of rain and the aroma of wet streets (not at all unpleasant actually), and heard the rain on pavement and body. The rain brought a rainbow of sensations we would have missed if the sun had shown all afternoon. Speaking of rainbows, wouldn’t that have been a trip if we had seen one that afternoon as we returned to the house? But we didn’t. Still, it did come up in our conversation as worship came to a close. The rain didn’t last long; just long enough to be a gift for the earth and for our worship time. The rainbow is always a beautiful thing to behold, but it never lasts, and just as well, or we wouldn’t notice it. Even the wonderful time we shared that afternoon had to come to an end, but how enriched we were by those minutes we spent on worship, prayer, walking in the rain, and sharing in the pure joy of the moment.

I thought about how I might take that experience and develop it into a “Celebration Rock” program, but I thought better of that. I let it go.

Now the irony of this post is that in writing these remembrances, I do appear to be holding onto the past, don’t I? The good news is that I am not trying to live in the past though. Those were good days. I like to think I did good work and shared my gifts with many folk. But so much of it was indeed temporary. Radio is in the air, you know. And it is soon gone. Yet the old saw is that the past informs the present, and the present shapes the future. Nonetheless, what counts most  is the moment, the right now. Clyde Reid was right: we are called to celebrate the temporary. “For everything, there is a season…”  Only a season.

Some “Celebration Rock” Titles and Themes

Rare was the listener who heard “Celebration Rock” week after week, month after month. “Back in the day” most of us listened to the radio casually, turning it on when we got in the car, or when we wanted some background music (or white noise) as we went about some activity. Certain times of day, radio might be more ritualized. For example, news junkies may try to tune in for the news at the top of each hour. Someone else listens to “All Things Considered” on the way home from work, every evening without fail.  “Celebration Rock” counted among its listeners both casual and ritual audiences.

I imagine that the vast majority were of the casual sort, getting up on Sunday morning to go to church, or drive to the golf course, or to drag the ad-laden Sunday paper in from the porch. In the days before i-Pods or satellite radio, maybe the stereo system filled the house with FM music or a little radio in the kitchen was turned on just because someone was in the room getting breakfast. There was CR on the air, and as long as it didn’t stray too far from the station’s normal music format, there was no reason to change stations. Maybe a particular song or something I said about it drew someone’s attention. Maybe not. The casual listener.

From my mail, and from conversations I’ve had with listeners through the years (and even to this day some 20 years after the program’s demise), I know there were some “ritual” listeners, that is, folks for whom CR was a weekly anchor, or habit. Most stations carried the show in Sunday morning public service time. And I know of families that listened together at breakfast each week. Others listened on a Walkman as they jogged or walked in the park. Every week, or almost. Some listened on the way to church every Sunday. In a few markets, the program was heard Sunday nights, and I have the feeling that anyone who listened late on a Sunday night, as the weekend came to a close and Monday loomed, those listeners paid more attention. There wasn’t much to draw them from the radio or to distract them from CR and its message.

This list of “Celebration Rock” programs may not be “news” to the ritual CR listener from all those years ago, but I thought it might be interesting to grab a pile of “Celebration Rock” CD’s (scores of programs survived long enough to be dubbed from reel-to-reel tape to CD) and list the titles or themes of several shows. (Some readers of this blog have fond memories, as I do, of CR. Others are reading this more or less by accident, and have no idea what CR was about. Maybe the list will help.)

In no particular order, some artists to whom an hour was devoted: Phoebe Snow; Grace Slick; Barry Manilow; Melissa Manchester; Kenny Loggins; Harry Chapin; Kerry Livgren (of Kansas; post-Kansas, he recorded “Christian” albums); The Moody Blues; Simon and Garfunkel; Dave Mason; Earth, Wind, and Fire; Bob Dylan; Neil Diamond; Jim Croce; The Doobie Brothers; Eric Carman; Steve Bassett; The Beatles; Judy Collins; Natalie Cole; Alice Cooper; Bruce Cockburn; Cat Stevens; Chicago; Alan Parsons Project; James Taylor; Steve Goodman; Billy Joel, Styx; Gordon Lightfoot; Eric Clapton; Phil Collins; Little River Band; T-Bone Burnett; and Don Henley. Of course, there were many more, but this list just gives an idea of the variety of artists to whom I devoted an hour of music and conversation. (Sometimes the format centered on one recent album; other times I’d feature the artists’ music culled from several L.P.’s.) 

Maybe more revealing in terms of “Celebration Rock” content is this list of topics/themes that were explored using the “music and message” of various artists whose songs spoke to the theme. Again, this list is not complete, but illustrative: various holidays (Christmas, Easter, Lent, etc.); gun control; “Hopes and Fears;” “Vocation:It’s My Job;” “The Greatest Love;” “The Beatitudes;” “The Arms Race;” “Friendship;” “Creative Sacrifice;” CROP Walks;” “You Should Be Dancing;” “Close Encounters,” “Freedom;” “The Gospel According to Comic Strips;” Native Americans; “Time;” “Hometowns;” “Christmas in Prison;” “Strangers;” “The City;” “The Sunset Grill;” “Rain;” “The Sea;” Malcolm Boyd’s Prayers; “World Communion Sunday;” “The Wisdom of Anna Mow”–an octogenarian; Human Sexuality; Refugees; “Dreams and Visions;” “Changes;” “Heroes;” “Godspell” –the local cast; and “Love Will Find a Way.”

Just to name a few. Those who listened casually might not have gotten a sense of the flow of any one program. But you never know how one comment or song or expression might have made an impact on someone who happened by the radio one Sunday morning. Or, who happened to be within the sound of your  voice one Monday afternoon!

 

The Day They Should Have Walked Out on Me, and Did

In writing about “Celebration Rock” and its almost 22-year run on radio (and noting that 2008 marks the 40th year since its debut), I’ve already told stories of taking the show on the road. That is, I’ve mentioned many of the speaking engagements that drew me out of the studio into churches, schools, and conference centers. Here’s the story of one invitation I never should have accepted. I did know better…but I had a very hard time saying no to people back then.

It’s interesting how one invitation to speak could lead to several more. Early on in my ministry, when I was producing radio shows half time and serving as the staff youth adviser of the “Spanish Castle” teen center in Bon Air, VA, I was asked to speak at the meeting of the state-wide conference of the Virginia Federation of Women’s Clubs. The topic was the hot one of the day: the generation gap. After my presentation that day (which included playing music and projecting lyrics on an overhead projector…”What’s Goin’ On?” by Marvin Gaye and “Everyday People” by Sly and the Family Stone were among the hits), I was surrounded by women who wanted me to deliver the same “speech” to their individual clubs across the state. I must have done that presentation twelve times over the next year.

Much later in my ministry, “Celebration Rock” had peaked in terms of the number of stations carrying the show, but my calendar was still full of local Richmond youth groups and retreats. After an ecumenical event of some sort (I just don’t remember the origin of the invitation), an African-American woman came to me and asked me to speak at her church’s after-school high school youth program. Now, almost every other church youth group that had invited me was more than predominantly white. I did have some racially integrated “audiences” on occasion, especially in schools, but I had never been invited to a black church before, at least not to speak about “rock” music in a roomful of African American teenagers. I expressed some misgivings to the woman who issued the invitation. “Do you think the music I’m playing is what your youth are listening to?”

“Oh, I’m sure they’ll be interested in what you have to say. They are so into their music these days! Please come and don’t change a thing!”

I knew better than to make assumptions about what her church kids were listening to music-wise. All I could do is trust that she knew best. As I said, I wasn’t very good at declining these invitations. And I certainly didn’t want to be accused of discrimination by saying, no, I don’t want to go to your downtown church and talk to your kids. On the other hand, I did edit out some songs and added some others, like Earth, Wind, and Fire and Michael Jackson (who had mega-hit videos at that time).

My best move was calling an African-American deejay friend to see if he would join me for that session. I thought that between the two of us, we might communicate better with that after-school group. I recall that he agreed at first. But later he said he was sorry; he had another engagement…but good luck with that, he said.

I drove to the church, unloaded my equipment, set it up in the large church classroom where folding chairs were waiting for the youth to come after school. My host told me that not all the kids who would be there were “church young people.” Many are from the neighborhood; they come for the recreation mostly, she told me. “For the basketball games in the gym. Others come for tutoring. But they’ll have to listen to you first.” I didn’t like the sound of that.  They’ll have to…

The room began to fill up with kids who were rightly suspicious of me, the white minister who was going to lecture them about their music. “What are you gonna play?” I hated that question. I heard it from almost every group I spoke to. It was a challenge more than mere curiosity. No matter what I answered, it was never that questioner’s favorite group, and I had to quickly list everything I’d brought with me, hoping that at least one answer would be “right.” I learned way too late that the correct response was, “What are you hoping I brought with me?”

“What are you gonna play?” “Oh, a little of everything! Mrs.______ said you’d enjoy it,” I said, but I doubted it.  Sure enough, as I started introducing myself, someone asked what station I worked for. Well, I don’t work for a station…I’m a minister, but my show is on… was it EZ104 at that time? Or, B-103? Didn’t matter. Whatever the call letters then, it was pretty much a station with a white suburban audience, and I was sunk before I started.

I played my first song off the tape, and half the room talked through it. I played the second song, and it seemed that the whole room talked through it. I tried to be my most personable self, tried so hard to interest those kids in the lyrics, the meaning of the songs. Gee; what a surprise: they weren’t into Rush. I popped a cassette of Earth, Wind, and Fire into the P.A. system. “What does it mean to be a shining star, no matter who you are?” I asked them. Two guys got up to leave. Right there while I was talking. Two or three others saw them heading for the door (“I got a phone call to make,” one guy explained) and began to head out with them. Mrs. Nice Church Lady didn’t exactly speak with the voice of authority when she suggested that they should stay in the room. Actually, if the four or five of them left, I thought, maybe there would be less competition among the many voices in the room not paying attention to mine.

These kids were clearly bored. Some were amused at my predicament. When the whole nightmare was over, there were a couple of girls who came up to me and apologized for their friends’ rude behavior. “No need to apologize,” I assured them, “but thanks for your kindness. I just wasn’t on their wavelength.” “Um, what were you  hoping I was going to play this afternoon?”

I felt so out of touch, so old, so white, so suburban. And embarrassed. And this was way, way before hip hop, and a few months after  I should have known better and said, “Thank you so much for your confidence in my ability to bridge this gap, but no. Let me suggest a friend you might invite instead.”

On the way home, I sang to myself, “You can be a shining star, no matter who you are, shining bright to see, what you can truly be…; o yeah.”

 

Imagine There’s No Heaven…or Hell

In 1971, John Lennon’s song “Imagine” became an instant “anthem,” that is, a song that expressed allegiance to an idea shared by its adherents. The worldview of “Imagine” was that of a global, boundless (borderless), apolitical, idealistic community of people who shared and dreamed together, and lived life in peace. Apparently, they also eschewed religion and its promises of “heaven” and threats of “hell.” A couple of years after Lennon’s song came Dan Fogelberg’s “Part of the Plan” which included the line,”There is no Eden or Heavenly gates that you’re gonna make it to someday…”  I played both songs on “Celebration Rock,” even though the program was sponsored by a faith community that did indeed (and still does, for that matter) affirm Heavenly gates (of some kind) and which must be considered a “religion.” Hell is still up for grabs, but I have my doubts.

What brings me to this comment is the memory of speaking to a class at a Richmond high school and having to deal with the subject of “hell.” I can’t remember whether I had been invited by a student who listened to CR and thought I might be a good resource person for that humanities class, or whether the invitation came via the teacher. But I took with me several songs to play and reflect on, with no restrictions on content or subject matter. And since it was common knowledge that I was a minister and that “Celebration Rock” was a Christian program, and since it was, after all, a humanities class, the topic of religion did come up. The issue was the old bugaboo backmasking.

The kids in the class shared what they had heard about the controversy, though I doubt that any of them had torn up their records trying to play them backward. I dismissed the whole idea (as I wrote some time ago in this e-journal), finally simply saying that since I didn’t believe in a personal “Devil” or “Satan” or “Hell” for that matter, backmasking didn’t keep me up nights worrying. I did give a humanities class nod to Milton’s paradises lost and gained, and to the imagery of Dante’s “Inferno,” and explained my own understanding of metaphor, but we were getting way beyond the topic of rock music and descending into hell, so we eventually moved on to other things.

But after the class, as students were leaving the room, one very concerned girl approached me and asked a significant question: if there is no hell (imagine…), why should we be “good?” Without a looming punishment of eternal damnation, why should anyone strive to be a moral person? Because Jesus gave us the commandment to love one one another, I said. And the other Ten are important too. Why not just choose the loving and just way to live, without choosing that road simply as an alternative to the threat of hellfire? She had to move on to her next class, so the conversation ended there. I could tell she didn’t buy my explanation. 

If we had had time, we might have talked about judgment as described by Matthew in the 25th chapter of his Gospel (25:31f). We might have talked about the three-storied universe belief prevalent in the time that the Bible was written. We could have wondered why a loving God would cast misbehaving children into a lake of flames forever, while a loving parent would never punish a child for all the rest of her days. Oh, and there’s grace, too. We might have talked about that.

Imagine there’s no hell. A few years after the Lennon song was a hit, an episode of the old TV sit-com “WKRP in Cincinnati” dealt with the controversy that surrounded “Imagine.” I think it was an indignant pastor who complained that the station had played a song very offensive to Christians, because the song said there was no heaven. The station manager said, “No, it didn’t say there was no heaven; it only said imagine there’s no heaven.”

Now comes the unasked question from that concerned high school girl. If there’s no hell…does that mean there’s no heaven? Nothing beyond this life? No afterlife?  When you’re dead, you’re dead? As far as I’m concerned, the Christian faith doesn’t rise or fall on the idea of hell. But it certainly does rise on the risen Christ. Take away Easter and its promise and proclamation, and you are left with the admirable ethic of the loving life and teachings of Jesus, but without the eternity of it all, the forever-with-God part. Which I will not let go…for the belief has not let go of me.

I like the way another Presbyterian minister Frederick Buechner put it: “We think of Eternal Life, if we think of it at all, as what happens when life ends. We would do better to think of it as what happens when life begins.” With God. Those of us who affirm that Resurrection life make up something called the Church, not necessarily the ecclesiastical body, but a global, boundless (borderless), apolitical, idealistic community of people who share and dream together, and live life in peace.

Imagine that.

Noel Paul Stookey

One can correctly assume that if I am writing of the 40th anniversary of my radio program “Celebration Rock,” I am fairly geezer-like. (That word, geezer, is derived from a word meaning one who goes about in masquerade or disguise. Hmm.) So it should come as no surprise that I remember when Peter, Paul, and Mary had hit songs. I remember in 1963 driving down North Street in my hometown of Endicott, NY, with my childhood friend David Cook. On the radio came “Puff the Magic Dragon” by PP&M, and Dave told me the song was about marijuana. No way was I going to buy that. These days, of course, it’s harder to grasp the fact that “Puff” was a hit song! No place on the charts today for that kind of gentle folk music telling children’s stories for children of all ages.

About a year later, Peter, Paul, and Mary came to Westminster College as part of the school’s concert series. It was probably my first “big name” concert, and as the college newspaper photographer I had access to the stage and dressing room areas. I remember Paul Stookey as being very approachable and loose, joking around with everybody backstage. The concert, of course, was great fun, but the trio had more to sing than children’s songs. Their social consciousness was apparent in songs like “If I Had a Hammer” and “Where Have All the Flowers Gone?” as well as Bob Dylan’s “The Times They Are a’Changin’.” They also did a song called “Jesus Met the Woman at the Well,” a story from John’s Gospel.

(I’m not sure why I didn’t try an interview with them the night of that Westminster concert. I did interview jazz legend George Shearing in college, but I may have been limited to one hat, that of photographer, that night.)

Fast forward to the 70’s when “Celebration Rock” was my primary work. PP&M was on hiatus, and Paul Stookey had become a “born again” Christian, using his full Christian name, Noel Paul Stookey. He was in semi-retirement, building a home in New Hampshire, and traveling to do concerts just for friends and special causes. I had become acquainted with John Wilson who was the director of the Virginia Council on Social Welfare at that time, and John told me that Noel Stookey was coming to Roanoke to do a concert for a small conference sponsored by John’s organization. Did I want to interview him? Of course.

Stookey had driven his camper to Roanoke, did the concert in the hotel ballroom (a grandiose term for a big hotel conference room), singing, telling stories, playing the comedian, and in a fairly low-key way witnessing to his faith. 

After the concert, he stayed around for a Q&A session with the audience, and then we did the interview, with a few folks left in the room to eavesdrop. Stookey told how Bob Dylan had led him to the Scriptures, and how a fan in Austin, TX led him to his profession of faith in Christ. The interview we did was laid back, friendly and conversational. I was impressed with Stookey’s combination of evangelical faith and deep liberal commitment to social action. The “Celebration Rock” show that resulted from that evening in Roanoke used album cuts by Peter, Paul, and Mary, but most of the music content came from the singer’s live album recorded at Carnegie Hall. I assume that was one of his earliest solo efforts.

I eventually acquired four or five of Stookey’s subsequent albums, always able to count on him for thoughtful songs I could add to CR shows when I needed a Christian musical voice to bring a topical theme together. Of all the interviews I’ve done with musicians, the one with Noel Paul Stookey was the most comfortable and faith-centered.

And, by the way, Noel Paul Stookey strongly denied at that Roanoke meeting that “Puff” had any drug connotations at all. I figured that as a born again Christian, he could have admitted the drug link, confessed it as part of the past he was leaving behind, and disavowed the thing. But the fact that he has confirmed that it’s just a children’s fantasy song about a boy and a dragon…well, if you can’t trust a reborn Christian, who can you trust? So, case closed as far as I’m concerned. Let the rumor die, and let the song live on in its innocence.

Twenty Years: A Celebration

As “Celebration Rock” hit its 20thyear (1968-1988), my close friend Matt Matthews worked behind the scenes (or at least behind my back) to mark the occasion in a special way. He surprised me with a gathering of letters and greetings from many people who sent their “congratulations” for hitting the 20 year mark, which, in radio, is quite a run. What follows is a reminiscence of gratitude, maybe of little interest to anyone but me…and the folks whose names are mentioned below.

The substantial notebook is here on my desk, with the stylized “New Life Together” butterfly logo in gold on the cover (didn’t want to wait for the 50th year to do the “gold” thing, I guess). Inside are clippings, photographs, and several letters from people I’d worked with over the years, family members, and radio folk.

Matt must have worked on the project for some time, gathering names and addresses, no doubt conferring with my associate and friend Billie Brightwell, and checking leads as his journalism training had taught him to do. I treasure the result. Included were the first two Richmond newspaper press releases about the original program “Showcase” premiering on WBBL (WLEE). “Church Sponsoring Youth Radio Show” one headline read. The other said, “Showcase Seeks Young Listeners.” Both releases referred to me as “experienced radio announcer Jeffrey S. Kellams.” Sounded less than exciting, didn’t it? And my name was wrong. Thankfully, when the show debuted, the main audience showed up not because of a newspaper notice, but because it just carried over from the normal WLEE rock format, and within seconds of the ID, Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell were singing.

Among those who wrote letters of congratulations were my wife, my parents, and my mother-in-law; Matt and Billie, of course; Clif Dixon, who first came up with the idea of a Presbyterian-produced rock show for youth; many friends from NABS-WACC, the North American Broadcast Section of the World Association of Christian Communications, including Dennis Benson and Bud Frimoth about whom I have written previously, and Greg Hartung of the Presbyterian Media Mission; two Presbytery executives under whom I had worked; my good friend and media colleague Bob Edwards of the Catholic Diocese of Richmond; Heath Rada, at that time President of the Presbyterian School of Christian Education, where I was working half-time as Director of the Video Education Center; Jeff Gray, a volunteer at WBBL; my pastor Bob Busey; and two educators whom I greatly admired: Sara Little and Judy Sutherland.

The Operations Manager of Richmond’s WEZS (EZ104) Michael Ryan, Rosalind Silver of “Media and Values” Magazine, Bill Fore of the National Council of Churches, and Marj Carpenter of the Presbyterian Church (USA) news office added their greetings. Also included in the notebook were two 1984 clippings from local papers with far more interesting headlines than the first two: “Rock Radio Show Celebrates the Gospel” and “Minister’s Groove is Tracking Christian Message in Rock.”  Matt also added an article I had written for Richmond’s “Style Weekly,” an account of my annual monastery visits entitled “A Journey Towards Solitude:One Man’s Retreat.”

I also have a framed copy of the butterfly logo that I received from Matt the day several of us marked the occasion in the Video Education Center at PSCE. And to think that 20th anniversary was 20 years ago!

Now one would think that I marked the anniversary with a special “Celebration Rock” program. Undoubtedly I did. But I can’t find it. I think it was dubbed to CD and labeled “Twenty Years of Music and Love.” I think I took some of my favorite songs and wove some love through the show, but I can’t do more than “think” until I locate the CD and correct this post. Funny thing is that I do have a copy of the 19th anniversary show: Huey Lewis and the News…

 

 

 

 

 

Is Anybody There?

In 1981, “Celebration Rock” had been on the air for 13 years. It was in syndication and I had been moving from one recording venue to another, a kind of radio nomad. I had certainly settled into a format that was working, and I was as secure in funding as I had ever been, and would ever be, in that kind of “experimental” ministry. But apparently I was in a funk of some sort. It was a time of transition in my work, adding a part time cable TV effort to my weekly schedule.

I still enjoyed doing the program when I could do it right, that is, when time and energy were available to channel into creativity in production and satisfaction with the “product.” But carving out the time for CR was becoming more difficult, and the committee that sponsored the ministry was pushing for some new directions, and probably rightly. Added to that situation was the fact that, contrary to the previous post, I wasn’t getting much audience response during that period. I was thinking about dropping the show, or at least testing the waters.

It wasn’t very professional of me, but one week, instead of simply stating the mailing address at the end of the program, I mentioned that mail response had been slow for some time, that maybe the show and I were burning out, and that maybe the time had come to consider taking “Celebration Rock” off the air. I did stress that budget had nothing to do with this consideration; I wanted to be sure this didn’t sound like an appeal for money! But I was asking, in effect, is there anybody out there? Is this still worth doing?

Now, I say this wasn’t very professional…but week after week, hour after hour, the so-called radio evangelists and television preachers pumped listeners for response (and $) by offering books, tapes, sermons, trinkets, etc. to build mailing lists for endless financial appeals. Still, for me it wasn’t the nature of my profession. And as I noted way back in this e-journal, radio pros weren’t to reveal too much personal information, from how they were feeling that day to what they thought about politics. (Yeah, times have changed since then.) So, to unwrap these feelings on the air…that I was disappointed with mail response and that I was wondering if “Celebration Rock” had played itself out…well, I thought better of that within minutes of putting the tapes in the mail to the stations.

Just a couple of months ago, unpacking moving boxes that hadn’t been opened in years, I ran across one box filled with mail: letters to “Celebration Rock.” I knew I had saved some mail through the years, calling it my “ego file,” but I didn’t expect to run across so many envelopes and post cards in one place. Curious, I looked through the letters and found that all were from a period of a month or so in 1981. All were written in response to my plea for feedback. To be clear here, I’m not talking about thousands of listeners writing in. But more like 150. And when I found that mail from over 25 years ago, I read every message! I thought it was the faithful thing to do, to honor the senders even after all this time. 

I put a mere handful aside and disposed of the rest, being careful to tear identifying names off each page. You can’t be too careful these days, people tell us. So the letters that came from prisoners, the letters that told very personal stories, and the ones written on some company’s letterhead…I didn’t want these falling into someone’s hands, even now. I couldn’t help but wonder as I read this mail…25 years have passed; whatever happened to this kid who wanted to leave the “children’s home” so desperately. What became of this teacher or that pastor or this family? (At least one letter was signed by a family of four that ate Sunday breakfast while CR played on the radio. It was a weekend ritual they wanted to hold on to.)

Every piece of mail, solicited as it was, urged me to keep at it, to let the show go on. Three or four people suggested that if I was tired, maybe I could get someone else to do it. Writers told me how the program provided inspiration, how excting it was that “the church” was paying attention to their music and using it in a positive way, and how much they would miss it if we stopped production. Even radio station deejays wrote in. I know that all that mail must have made an impression at the time, as it came in over a period of a few weeks. Yes, it was indeed encouraging. But finding that stash all at once a few weeks ago, and reading letter after letter in one sitting…what a blessing that was!

I prayed. I expressed thanksgiving for the Call that first led to the program and for the opportunity to do the show for so long. I thanked God for the listeners. And I prayed for the whole community of those writers wherever they are today. And I was grateful that the Spirit fed that program for another ten years before it was finally time to say for the last time, “This is Jeff Kellam, reminding you to be gentle with people, and with yourself.”

Next time, the 20th anniversary celebration! With thanks to Matt Matthews!

The “Celebration Rock” Mail Box

If you are just joining this blog, look for the link to “about,” click on it, and find out why I am writing all this…Thanks.

From the first week that “Showcase” debuted on WBBL/WLEE, I was advised to ask for feedback from the listeners. First, it was important to know that someone was listening. Because of the way the old WBBL studio was set up, we couldn’t ask for phone response, and because the program was recorded we weren’t about to pretend we could play listener requests. So, we gave out our address and hoped some of those young listeners would find paper, pen, and stamp and take the trouble to write.

The second reason we asked people to write was to gauge whether they were “getting the message.” We didn’t just count the cards and letters as votes, but we tried to get an idea of how effective we were in reaching our audience with content that was helpful, hopeful, and grace-filled.

From the very first week, we got mail. Not much, but some. Enough to know that we were on the right track with our modest efforts. By the time “Showcase” had become the syndicated “Celebration Rock” show, we had the means to rent a post office box to simplify the address for the audience. We got a fairly funky number: 25444. When the box was renewed, we switched to 25999. (Not that I’m superstitious, but I would have turned down 25666, if it had been assigned.) Syndication didn’t bring in more mail exponentially. In fact, I was disheartened to find the p.o. box empty many weeks. We ran no promotions, made very few “offers,” and generally offered no incentive to write, except to make comments or suggest topics or groups for future shows.

(Among the “very few” things we did offer to listeners: free copies of the Today’s English Version” of the New Testament–“the same one we use on ‘Celebration Rock…'” [because it was easy for the listener to understand]; copies of “Youth Magazine,” a publication of the United Church of Christ  that included solid youth-oriented articles, poetry, and, once, a multi-page spread about CR and me; and the libretto for “Jesus Christ Superstar,” the week we premiered it in its entirety.)

I had a few regular correspondents. Some were youth who were really into the music. Others were pastors or people like teachers and counselors who worked with youth. Now and then I’d get a note from someone way out of the demographic we were aiming at. My friend Dave Wasemann who worked with our Pittsburgh sponsor and who took our tape to the radio station(s) there sent me a note once about a 75 year-old woman who had turned on the radio one Sunday searching for something to listen to, and discovered CR. She called Dave to report that she enjoyed the program and its “thoughtful remarks and music.”

Dave wrote me that he learned a lesson from that call: “To find someone in the audience who in this instance proved to be so moved by a show whose target audience is different in age from hers taught me to be more careful of generalizations.” Yep. You never know who is listening and how your work touches them.

Some mail came from church folk who were glad to find someone speaking their language. Other letters came from people who listened in spite of the religious content; they just liked the progressive music format. And now and then, mail would come not from the U.S. Postal service, but stuck in the tape box as it came back from the radio stations. Program directors would get mail at their stations, or report on good phone calls that responded to the show. Imagine my delight, when I would get an unsolicited letter written by station personnel themselves. Maybe the air cadets I mentioned in the previous post. Or, like this one that came from a public service director in a good-sized market. (I’m editing out the guy’s name, and even the station, since the call letters still exist and I want to preserve the privacy of the individual.)

Jeff,  this is ________with W–R. I have been wanting to take some time and write you a letter but due to loss of time I haven’t. I want to say that your program “celebration rock” is the best I have ever heard and folks all over the state have called and have had positive thoughts and ideas about it. I personally think you have done a very fine job producing it and I look forward to each and every program, I’m speaking for a large audience, your audience and mine. We all love you very much and that’s what the world needs is love: the love to care how other people perform, think, feel, see… for we may see, think and feel very differently but it’s just the same love… I love your interviews and the music flow. I’m the type of person who can sit down and try to find out what music writers are feeling when they write tunes, …and why they feel that way, and its all a message put to music.
Jeff, keep in touch.  I’m already tired and have yet a few hours to go before I can go home and go to sleep so forgive my typing. I want to say that I’m glad your part of our loving team and if I could ever help you in any way please feel free to call upon me.

P.S. I’m listening to you now, the James Taylor show. Words of wisdom in the music.

You like reading other people’s mail? Here’s some more. sorry about the all-caps…it’s the way it came and the way it scanned:

JUST A NOTE TO LET YOU KNOW THAT WE HERE AT FM 107 HAVEN’T FORGOTTEN

OUR GOOD FRIENDS IN VIRGINIA! THE SHOW THIS PAST WEEK WAS EXCELLENT! I’VE HAD MANY CALLS ABOUT YOUR SHOW AND THEY WERE ALL POSITIVE. OUR LISTENERS REALLY ENJOY THE WAY YOU PUT CELEBRATION ROCK TOGETHER. THE MESSAGE THAT IS SENT OVER THE AIRWAVES EACH SUNDAY REACHES A GOOD MANY PEOPLE. I KNOW FOR A FACT BECAUSE MY SISTER SAID THAT SHE LISTENED A COUPLE OF SUNDAY’S AGO WHEN SHE WAS SICK AND HAD TO STAY HOME FROM CHURCH AND SHE SAID THAT SHE WAS VERY TOUCHED BY THE PROGRAM. SHE IS AT THAT AGE WHERE KIDS START TO GET KIND OF SENTIMENTAL ABOUT CERTAIN THINGS. (SHE’S 13½) ANYWAY, THE POINT IS THAT SHE WAS ONE OF MANY LISTENERS THAT HAVE BEEN TOUCHED BY YOUR SHOW. YOU HAVE A VERY UNIQUE WAY OF SHARING AND EXPRESSING YOURSELF. IF YOU HAVE THE TIME, DROP US A LINE AND SAY HI. WELL, TIME TO GO FOR NOW UNTIL NEXT TIME, BE GENTLE WITH PEOPLE…

So, next time something about the time the mail stopped coming and the music almost died…