She sang it in the morning, in the evening, all over this land

I no longer recall what the first song might have been that I learned to play on the guitar -- it could have been 500 Miles, or Wayfarin' Stranger or Leaving on a Jet Plane, or Puff the Magic Dragon. If I had a Hammer would have come along soon after, and Blowin' in the Wind. This was back in the early '70's -- at least -- and folk music still had a following. At church camp in the summers it seemed like guitars were everywhere. Afternoon free times found small groups of them clustered in shady corners all around the property, playing and singing and sharing songs. Evening vespers singing was led by a veritable orchestra of guitars lined up in front of the group. And Peter, Paul and Mary were at the top of the list of musicians who provided the repertoire. It was exciting, several years later, to attend a wonderful concert by Peter Yarrow at the Abilene Civic Center during which he had the entire audience not only singing along, but singing several different parts. I felt like I was in the presence of something close to musical royalty.

I suppose I rather lost track of the trio after that -- their music replaced in my head by The Eagles, Jackson Browne, America, ZZ Top, Fleetwood Mac, James Taylor, Crosby Stills Nash and Young, and other edgier fare. Years past, rock bands have come and gone, musical tastes have evolved; meanwhile Peter, Paul and Mary have continued to plug along. A decade or so ago I got to meet Peter Yarrow who was presenting at an educational conference in town. He had created a youth curriculum based on their song, Don't Laugh at Me. I had already fallen in love with the song, and was excited to learn more about the curriculum. Later we corresponded, and tried to work out a way for him to perform at our church. His work and the unique ministry of this congregation seemed perfectly suited. It didn't ever work out, but I did get to go back stage, into the "Green Room" after a concert that the three of them did in Des Moines a few years ago. It was exhilarating. It sort of felt like coming full circle.
So it was with a particular sadness that I read this morning of Mary Travers' death at 72 from leukemia. Having battled segregation with Martin Luther King, jr, and protested against the injustice and the violence of war -- battles in which she helped make significant progress -- she has finally lost this much more personal battle with disease. And I feel like I have lost a part of myself.

Others will have their own rubric for what constitutes a "good life," but I would assess one spent making both music and a difference to be "good" indeed.

She, of course, was not the first of this artist/activist species, and I trust she will not be the last. Music and social consciousness seem to regularly join hands and partner. By her example, that partnership has occasionally found expression even in me.

Who knows who the next musical activist icon might be whose song and conscience are perhaps even now stirring. Someone, though, will step up to the microphone -- probably with a guitar; certainly with a passion; and, with any luck, an attentive audience who learns to sing along. It could be, I suppose, almost anyone. The answer, of course, is blowin' in the wind.