In Memory of Buddy Holly

By Jane Pfefferkorn

The Surf, an ersatz ocean-front

imitation on Clear Lake,

amid flat, fecund fields once claimed

by Winnebago, Dakota and Sioux.

A refuge of contrasts for farm folk who,

after draining frustration and fear

through poles and lines, dressed

in their best for the big band bombast

of Glenn Miller, Harry James and Woody Herman.

They listened, danced and marveled

when The Crickets blew in from Texas and introduced

something new. Buddy and his boys called

it Rock and Roll. They “Raved On,”

with “Pretty, Pretty, Pretty Peggy Sue,”

“Blue Days, Black Nights,” and “Oh Boy,” unaware

that “Everyday it’s “A Gettin’ Closer,

Goin’ Faster Than a Roller Coaster,” until

February 3, 1959—“That’ll Be the Day”

“The Music Died.”


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