"The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down" The Band-The Last Waltz

We used to sit down in the basement at sixteen, surrounded by Notre Dame jerseys, Copenhagen tins and signs on the wall; there was a pool table in the middle of the room and a bar with a few bottles of Old Grand-Dad on the top of the tiles.  There was a record player in the corner and we used to wear the needle thin on bad ass old albums, Hendrix, Joplin, as well as some Clancy Brothers and Tommy Makem.  It was our place to go, it was myself, Clancy (it was his house), Bobby and at times Michael John.  Mostly though it was Clancy and me getting blitzed out of our minds and laughing until out stomachs hurt.

We had this delivery guy from Dominos who used to bring us pizza, we'd give him a few extra for dip and booze and he'd show up with a few large pies, a few tins and a case of some random beer that we were all to anxious to drink  I remember one night we had no cash and we gave him a few dime bags and a blow up doll as payment, for some reason we called him Rambo and he never objected, an older Haitian guy blacker than night who didn't give a rat's ass, but a wonderful person nonetheless.

One of the albums we would play was The Band.  Many people don't know that they were the band for Bob Dylan when he went electric.  Many people don't know that Eric Clapton came to America to ask to join The Band but lost his nerve thinking he wasn't good enough.  Many people don't know just how amazing, how ahead of their time this group of musicians actually were.

As I sit here writing this way south of the Mason Dixon line I am reminded of not only those old drinking days when I first found the temptation of spirits but also that war of northern aggression, that war that split of country in two.  I've lived most of my adult life in the south after being raised in the north and I have to tell you, down here it is still going on.  Down here there are ole' boys who I would never tell my birth place to just as Robbie would never give away his licks and Levon keeps his kit to himself.

Something inside me likes it thought.  Hell I am not for slavery, but I am for a group of people holding their own sovereignty close to their hearts and giving all they had to keep it.  I am for a group of badass musicians laying down insane tracks that make you scream out the chorus whenever it hits.  I am for being in a basement of a great friend playing nine ball, dipping Cope, drinking cheap ice cold beer and laughing you ass off because that is what freedom is all about.  It is what being young and not giving a shit is all about and it is something I think about at random times, it brings a smile to my face and I smile whenever I hear this great ballad born of the American tradition.