Archive for the ‘trigger warning’ Category

Mama, take this badge off of me
I can’t use it anymore.
It’s gettin’ dark, too dark to see
I feel I’m knockin’ on heaven’s door.
”Knockin’ On Heaven’s Door,” Bob Dylan

I first heard that song in 1973, when I was saw the movie “Pat Garrett and Billy The Kid.” It was a simple tune, and quite easy for me to learn on the guitar.

Kelly St. Clair, Jr.

Kelly was my partner in the security business we bought and renamed “T & S Security.” The “T” was for his daughter Tanya, and the “S” was for my daughter Suzzanne. They were the same age, and both of them less than a year old.

Because Kelly and I were business novices, and hadn’t exercised what we would later know as “due diligence” when we bought the business, we soon realized that it wasn’t bringing in enough income for us both to live on. So I gave up my half of the business and found work elsewhere.

We drifted apart, and I didn’t hear from Kelly for another 4 or 5 years.

I knew how much Kelly loved his daughter; he had told me many times that she was his reason for living. I, too, loved my daughter, and had hoped that the girls would grow up to be friends.

In my late twenties, the clinical depression that runs in my family manifested itself and I ended up in the hospital. My roommate? Non other than Kelly! It turned out that he had shut down the business and moved his family back to their home village of Hoonah, where he was employed as the chief of police.

Over the next two or three days we caught up, sharing stories of what we had done in the intervening years.

Finally, Kelly was discharged, and returned home.

Mama, Take This Badge Off Of Me

The next day, the head nurse, who was also a friend, told me that Kelly was dead.

It developed that when he got home, his wife, with whom he had been arguing, told him that Tanya, the light of his life and sole reason for existing, was another man’s child.

I never knew the truth of the matter; all I knew was that upon hearing the words, Kelly Frank St. Clair, Jr., the closest friend I have ever had in my life, took his .357 magnum revolver, placed the muzzle against his chest, and pulled the trigger. The hollow-point round exploded his heart, and he died instantly.

Knockin’ on heaven’s door

A few years later, I had the opportunity to visit Hoonah on an unrelated subject. Before I came home, I hiked to the cemetery and found my dear friend’s grave. I had brought my guitar, and standing over the grave, I sang the song I had learned all those years ago:

"Knockin’ On Heaven’s Door"
Bob Dylan

Mama, take this badge off of me
I can’t use it anymore.
It’s gettin’ dark, too dark to see
I feel I’m knockin’ on heaven’s door.

Knock, knock, knockin’ on heaven’s door
Knock, knock, knockin’ on heaven’s door
Knock, knock, knockin’ on heaven’s door
Knock, knock, knockin’ on heaven’s door

Mama, put my guns in the ground
I can’t shoot them anymore.
That long black cloud is comin’ down
I feel I’m knockin’ on heaven’s door.

Knock, knock, knockin’ on heaven’s door
Knock, knock, knockin’ on heaven’s door
Knock, knock, knockin’ on heaven’s door
Knock, knock, knockin’ on heaven’s door

I’m sorry about the long wait between posts. I got a new computer and forgot the password to this blog, so I couldn’t update it until today. So much for Robyn’s First Rule of Computing, which states “Be Paranoid and Compulsive.”

Advertisements