I can’t believe it’s nearly forty years since I parted from my college sweetheart Peggy Noonan. Forty years … but who’s counting? I would let go, but every time I turn on a television political news forum, or pick up a newspaper, there she is again. This time, according to The New York Times, my old pal is receiving the 2012 New York Matrix Award from presenter Lesley Stahl, awarded to New York State Women in Communications Foundation alumna for outstanding contributions. Tyra Banks is one of the eight women on the awards list. Wow, Tyra Banks? Fascists win awards, too. Peggy, the arch Conservative Wall Street Journal columnist and pundit, always viewed the world differently than I did. Could Peggy have become a liberal pundit, had I taken her to a Pete Seeger concert? Influenced her career path? Now granted, we both developed wildly enthusiastic followings. (Sorry, I just wanted to see if you were paying attention.) On the other hand, could things have swung to the Right for me had I not grasped a banjo with one hand as I released Peggy from the other? Would I, for example, be writing copy for Fox News, rather than Sing Out! magazine? I recall the fateful day of the breakup. Peggy placed her hand on my shoulder, as she took on the look of deep concern for me. Peg cocked her head, and with mock empathy and encouragement, provided these words of consolation; “Someday, my dear Roger, you’ll write a song about this.” Something I did do, although – I just could never play it for her without legal counsel. I have collected a number of these songs on a new CD. I could have titled it Other Breakups, Other Ruins. But I tagged it Love Songs, Now And Then. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, better breakups result in better songs.

How do happy people manage to be productive? With the help of Ed Courrier and the folks at Sing Out! I have been able to share many experiences on this page – and now on that album and in a book, the collection of 56 RagTag columns – 15 years of RagTag. The Sing Out! strategy of sharing songs really does accurately describe the way I feel about my “accomplishments,” my contributions. It is certainly good I accomplished something – as – I just received the 2012 The New Jersey Folk Festival’s Lifetime Achievement Award. The New York Times may have missed this news item. I had to get cracking. Peg with a Matrix, and me not getting any younger. I thought some achievement was in order. Somewhat troubling has been the suggestion by a number of close friends who have commented, “Don’t they give a lifetime achievement award when you are … really old? Or when you are dead?” Stay tuned to Last Chorus.

Tyra Banks will never receive a lifetime achievement award from the New Jersey Folk Festival. Gordon Bok got his last year. And I never did a photo shoot wearing six-inch heels. Nor has Gordon. I think. I may not have changed the world, but I have noticed the world change. That should be worth something. Ironically enough, longevity playing some part, this became a year of achievement and honors. Recently, my University Alumni Magazine asked me (not Peggy, herself an alum, ) to write an essay about life, ages ago, on the founding campus of the University. This, where Peggy and I met. A story on that ways the campus I attended figured into the University’s growth. One hundred thousand graduates received the magazine, I am told. For me – the big time! So – what’s with this recognition in my old age?

About 25 years ago, folk singer Mike Agranoff and I were chatting backstage at The Philadelphia Folk Festival. In and amongst the enlightened chatter, comparing notes on musicians and music came a moment of self-assessment of our humble place in the folk firmament. As we reclined in the sun, we hit upon one possible, although untested path to glory. We both booked coffeehouses, and were scratching around for gigs. I was doing some writing. I thought I had climbed folk Everest – having done a showcase, some workshops and the main stage appearances as an emcee and playing between the main acts. Mike too had notches on his guitar neck. The road ahead seemed somewhat ambiguous. The sun was warm, the audiences as well, and yet, it appeared folk “stardom” was not in the cards. Then, we came upon the amusing notion; that, perhaps longevity would be our distinction. Yes, if we just managed to hang around long enough, we might become “the grand old men of folk music.” Mere longevity substituting for any number of more worthy variables. The one thing about staying power, it gives you more time to ponder one’s own lifetime achievements – or the lack thereof.
 

from Sing Out! v.55#1 (Autumn 2012)
© 2012 The Sing Out Corporation / Roger Deitz