The Voice Vice and Quitting Twice

Clarksdale, Mississippi, 1931 -- January 22nd

The fifth of eight children was born to Anna Mae, the wife of Reverend Charles Cook. Two years later they moved to Chicago.

He was the inspiration for the likes of Otis, Diana, Stevie, Wilson, Tina, Rod, Mick and Marvin, just to name a few.

In 1954 the Chordettes were commissioned to record what later on in the next year became a number one hit, going all the way to the top of the charts!

This song was about a 5-year-old boy born under the sign of Aquarius.

Just one year prior, that little boy had been riding around singing in his grandpa's truck on the family farm. Grandpa was forced to stop short, catapulting the 4-year-old's forehead into the dashboard. Without missing a beat and undeterred by a trickle of blood now dripping down his nose, he continued singing, and grandpa let him finish the song before taking care of his surface wound.

When that boy turned 11 he was struck by Cupid's soul-stirring arrow.

By 16 he was a drummer/singer for a band called 'The Sullies' and Sam had been gone for almost a year.

Eleven years later he dared to perform with his brand new band for the very first time on my first birthday looking like this:

Happy Birthday toooo meeee

He became disenchanted with the music industry and its death-grip control, exploitation of talent and passion.

The repercussions were awful in my mind:

"For a long time, I could barely even listen to music."

Me too, Steve. Me too. Different reasons, but...y'know?

Because he made what he was able to do his career, he fell out of love with singing completely. When you suck the life out of a musician, they take their drums, picks, reeds, strings & walk. For Steve it wasn't about money. His father was a wise man.

"It's not about how much you make, it's about how much you save." And save he did.

He longed to return home to the farm, which he did. He went to fairs in the summer, attended baseball games, took himself to the movies.

"Being on such an amazing ride like we were on is like circling the earth in some satellite, then all of a sudden, it's just time to come through and land. There was no easy way to come through the earth's atmosphere without burning up a little bit. "I went back to my hometown in Hanford, California, and I just hung out in that town with old friends, drove up and down Main Street, saw my old house where I was raised, just tried to reconnect. I had a Harley-Davidson I used to keep in a storage unit, and I used to go out on these country roads — back in those days, you didn't need a helmet — and I would just drive that Harley on these one-lane, old country roads, and just let the wind blow and try to get some wind in my face and think about things. "I had to let go with a conviction that if music was to come back to my heart again, that would be fine. If it didn't, I had already lived the dream of dreams, honestly. We had accomplished so much as a group together. I had to let it go completely to see what would happen. I was like a wrung-out sponge — there's no juice left in me. "When I was a kid, I loved music more than anything else. It saved my life. When I can play those old 45s and get into those songs and listen to those rhythms and those voices and that songwriting, it was a place I could go to when my family was breaking up at the time, my mother and father."

And just like that, I'm unafraid of motorcycles.*

The second time that Steve would leave Journey was May 7, 1998. I remember it well. I had a chocolate-gray pin-striped Chevy Celebrity that I'd fire up around 10am on weekdays and drive to the Piggly Wiggly where I'd buy a loaf of cheap white bread, head to Forest Hill Cemetery to feed the ducks and geese on beautiful sunny mornings. That was when I was young and shy and insisted on tanning in my bikini here in 'safety,' taking my pen and notebook so I could write poetry and lying on Edward's grave. I didn't know him personally. He had the same date of death as my birthday. 1998 was one of the best years of my life as far as Hot Girl Summers go.

And in 1987, as Steve drifted out of music, someone else drifted in. Her influences were The Beach Boys, Motown artists, Elvis, Marvin Gaye, Iris DeMent, Buddy Holly, Ricky Nelson, The Everly Brothers, Patsy Cline, Pam Tillis, Alison Krauss, Tanya Tucker, Joe Diffie, Aretha Franklin, The Judds...

Oh wait, a ton of those influences are also someone else's...

His/Hers, who knows anymore? Too close to separate. Who's counting? Who's Crying Now? Is she IN the music industry? Thank God, no. Does she plan to protect her passion by listening to his plight? Absolutely.

From me to you, Steve Perry: Thank you for saving MY life with your music. Music continues to save our lives, both mine and yours, and I thank you for possessing and utilizing that powerful instrument that you've got that somehow matches this crystal resonance with my own. It's enough to know that melding takes place and can happen whenever I desire for it to. And I thank you for your confidence. It pushed me to not only eagerly reach for but hit the high notes without shying away from them now that my training is complete, but it also pushed me forward getting the absolute FUCK...out of my circumstances. Without that air of confidence you have I couldn't have been inspired to finally do what I needed to do.

The chances of me ever meeting you are probably very unlikely but it doesn't matter. Your influence has done its job(s) on so many levels.

Thank you for giving me your sweetness when I was being fed bitterness.

Thank you for your gorgeousness when I was surrounded by repetition, rage, tantrums, provocation, manipulation, brainwashing, abuse and mind-control.

I don't enjoy parasangs. I prefer PerrySings.

Thank you for your honesty while I was being lied to.

Thank you for making me cum most nights while I pretended to sleep next to the most awful human being on planet earth.

Thank you for so many similarities between us that I felt like I was yours.

Thank you for aggravating him while just being your handsome, sexy, talented, humble, modest, shy, retiring self while he was throwing fits for my attention around like a child. He didn't deserve it.

Thank you for making me smile and bite my lip soooo many times, for making me squeal every time I see a new video and learn a new song.

Thank you for sharing that voice, Stephen Ray Perry. That voice that reached in and pulled me out of despair, suicidal thoughts, depression, boredom, prison and loneliness.

I'll keep up with all that you do up to the current time because for me it's not about how old you are, it's about that gentle, sweet passion you have, the breathing you remind me of, the effortless inclusion of every single word...

Just know, you know how I can get any guy in the world? I would have given anything to be in my twenties in 1977. Those suspenders, the long, dark hair, full lips, your perfect, gigantic nose...