A Beautiful Song: A Musical Soul Story

by Michael Cantwell

  Physical therapy on a daily basis was becoming a grind. It was as much mental as physical, but it was paying dividends. I could now walk around the grounds with limited pain. The doctor told me that the pain might never go away fully. All the doctors concurred. They were hopeful, but not quite sure if my back would ever really be the same. The pelvis injury had healed. My hand was getting better, but my fingers now needed to build the calluses back on my finger tips. The hand therapy was helping a great deal. It was time to be released as an outpatient. I was finally allowed to go home, but it seemed like everyone wanted to keep their distance from me. No one would still offer the news about Debby. All I knew was that she and her daughters were fine, but they moved to another home.

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  Chapter 19

  The desire to write and record started to return. I let Linda know that I was hopeful we could record the 60’s album after the first of the year, or early spring. She told me that Elise had invited everyone to North Carolina for Thanksgiving weekend. She had planned on staying for a few weeks to write new songs with me. Duke and Sasha were also coming, but Billy was spending it in Chicago with his family. I was told that Debby was also spending Thanksgiving with her family.

  After another month, I was able to drive myself to therapy twice a week. Things were progressing nicely. I was spending time with my daughters again, after an almost nine month absence. They were now at an age where I had to spend time, or I would lose them as mine. I barely knew them. They barely knew me. I was also told that the purple guy had now given way to the Disney Channel. Either way, when I sat with them, it was about the only time my mind was at peace.

  During the days I didn’t have therapy, after having breakfast with all three of my girls, I would go and sit out back and try to write and practice guitar. I kept reflecting about what Gordy had told me. I wanted him to be wrong, but I knew he was right. I had lost my way and my soul. I could not find peace with my writing or my instruments. I would try for hours to write new material. My work was now dark and so different. I was there hugging my wife and kids, but my mind was elsewhere.

  I would have good days, then bad. I needed my mind to let go of the anger for the drunk who hit me. I needed God’s assistance in making the anger go away. The pastor from the local church where Elise and I attended would stop by to see me, but it was hard to talk with him. I didn’t know him and he didn’t know me. I gave him credit for trying and as he would say, “Make peace with your life”. I knew peace was not possible until I could stand on a stage for a two hour and thirty minute concert and not feel pain.

  Fall arrived which meant my brother and dad were joined by my mother at my house for hunting season. My mom only came to play with her grand kids and follow me all around the house. I was happy to see them all, but something was still missing. My mind felt numb from either all the medications, the anger or both. Everyone around me kept telling me “how lucky I was” but I still could not see it. My hand and back were healing, but it was such a slow arduous process. It seemed my body was ahead of my brain for some reason in the healing process. My mom did convince me to come and spend Christmas with them and to bring Elise and the kids. She won since we had spent most in recent times with Elise’s family. We had a couple of weeks of peace until Linda arrived for her visit.

  Linda looked tanned and as healthy as I had ever seen her. She had taken very good care of herself over the past few months. She started a daily workout routine. She had my older daughter join her for fun because while staying with us, Linda didn’t miss a day of workouts. Later in the day, we would sit on the back porch and try to finish off some songs I had started. Linda would always complain “They are too dark and moody. The public will never accept those kinds of songs from you, Dylan.” I didn’t care. That was the emotion that was in my heart. I told her “The public will accept it, because it’s true.” “Don’t take your fans for granted Dylan, they will leave you the first time you fail them” Linda declared.

  Part of me knew she was right, just like Gordy was correct in his statements. The problem was that my mind had its own agenda now. I tried so hard to lose the anger and what now was becoming guilt. I was also now guilty for the poor kid who was assigned to pick me up and take me to the radio station. I know a rational person could see through all that, but I lost being rational the moment I awoke from my coma. I knew he was out of rehabilitation and was fully healed. I had Duke keep in touch with him, but it didn’t matter. His life had been turned upside down too.

  Thanksgiving arrived with Duke and Sasha joining us as promised. Linda was still in town. We all talked about starting a time schedule for the next release from The Overture. It was pretty much set in stone that Linda would join the band as a permanent member. I think a second female voice added to the sound. Even though I was excited to talk about getting back in the studio and recording again, my mind still could not come to grips with the idea that my health might impede from ever being the same musician in and out of the studio.

  Conversations started up about the 60’s record, but it took a back seat to The Overture album. What I didn’t know was that the real reason Duke was in New York so much was that he and Sasha and the studio guys we had used before had already started to lay down the tracks on the 60’s release. Linda had added the vocals in California. They were all waiting on me to add the guitar parts. I think it was all done as an incentive to get my lazy butt to work. I finally agreed to try and finish it after New Years.

  The plan was that after visiting with my family, I would head up to New York and stay there a few weeks. It would allow me time to see if my playing would allow me to finish the project. They all seemed happy that at least for the time being, I had stopped being a “stubborn jerk” as Sasha let out after being there a few hours.

  The Friday after Thanksgiving dinner we were all sitting in the television room when Duke started to act like he had something to tell me. “Dylan, I didn’t want you involved since you had too much to worry about but it’s time for you to know. Debby had issues with Mike as you know, but it took a turn for the worse and he beat her up more than once. Carl got her a good attorney in Jersey and they moved her and the kids to a safe home. They got a restraining order against Mike. He also spent some time in jail over it. It’s calmed down now. The divorce will be final very soon. She and the kids have bought a new home. She is anxious to see you when you go up north and wants to record again. She felt terrible she has not been to see you, but we kept her away from you since we knew it was possible you would want retribution against Mike.”

  I sat in silence for maybe fifteen minutes trying to gather all my possible remarks and thoughts. I had none. I knew something bad had to have happened to her since she didn’t visit or call even once in all the months. So in a way, I was relieved I knew what the big secret was, yet I felt so helpless to do anything. My mind raced with hiring some thugs to rip the guy limb from limb. I knew that was not the solution. Even as angry as I had become, there were limits to what I thought was still the right thing to do. The others sat there waiting for me to make a sprint for the door or phone. When it didn’t happen and only some tears were shed, I guess they were all a bit relieved. I thanked them all for looking over her. Duke had gone to see Debby a few times when he was in New York. Debby and her kids moved to a nice suburb in Northern New Jersey. She moved closer to New York City so that she could go home at night during our recording sessions. Her parents had moved to that area as well. There was not much I could say or do now other than I wanted to talk to her soon. I talked with her on the phone for hours later that night. We both promised to see each other over the Christmas holidays.

  Everyone left soon after that weekend. I started doing double time with my hand exercises and my practice time. I also wanted to do something special for Elise for the holidays since she had been my rock in recent months. I made a call to Carl to check on my finances. He said I was doing well with royalties and the stocks. It was not much in money
but more in spirit. I arranged to pay off the mortgage on my in-laws home. They had lived there for many years but when times would get a bit rough, they would take out loans. I cleared all the loans for them. They looked over my daughters while I was in rehab so Elise could come and visit in Washington, as well as all the time in North Carolina. I know it was more a gift for them, but it also gave Elise some security in her mind too. Oh, I booked a cruise to the Virgin Islands for the first week in February with Elise and the kids as well. My doctor at the rehab center was not pleased I was going to be away for an extended period starting around Christmas, but I needed the respite from therapy.

  We arrived at my parent’s home on Christmas Eve. As usual, my mom had the place all decorated to the maximum. My dad had lights strung up outside. The cooler weather was affecting my back, but I tried to stay quiet about it. My brother and sister came with their families and my mom made a comment that “This was the first time I’ve had all my children and grand children in the same room all at once. This is the best gift anyone could give me for Christmas.” I would expect nothing less of a comment from her. We let the kids rip into all the gifts early the next morning before heading out for Christmas service. I sat looking at the stained glass window, behind the alter, counting the tiles almost the entire time. I didn’t feel anyone was going to listen to me anyway, so what’s the point. I only went to services now to appease Elise and now my parents. When communion time came I sat firmly in my seat, much to the disappointment of my mother. We had a lovely dinner. Late that night I doubled up on my pain medications from the cold house. The kids were as exhausted, but overall it was a nice day with the family.

  The next day some old friends gave me a call. They wanted to know if I would go out and shoot pool at a local club. I agreed and we met up later that evening. I was having a pretty good time shooting pool when this young looking girl came up to me and asked if I was Dylan James. I was not sure I wanted to be recognized when my friend Danny blurts out, “Not only is it Dylan James, he is the best guitar player in the entire world.” My first reaction was, “Well if you exclude Eric Clapton, Carlos Santana, Frank Zappa and about fifty others, I might agree.”

  The young lady asks if I would play a song or two with her brother’s band on the other side of the club. I heard a band start to play, but I really paid them no attention. I politely declined much to her disappointment. I had not played for anyone other than band mates or family since the accident. I was not sure I could even do it. About five minutes later out of the corner of my eye I catch someone calling me to the stage. Then I hear my name over the loud speaker and friends pushing me to the stage. I was in fear. My playing ability was improving, but not back to where it was before the injury.

  I hobbled up on stage. I warned the small crowd that I had not played in public since my accident assuming they even knew of my accident. Apparently the lead singer didn’t since he said, “What accident?” Now I was really in fear since they were expecting a show and I was barely playing my old solos again. The lead singer says to me “You know Johnny B. Goode don’t ya?” Please, I mean what guitar player of that era was not raised on Chuck Berry classics. It was even one of the tunes on our 1950’s album. I think I even still had the original Chess label 45 stored away in my parent’s attic.

  A young guy handed me a cheap guitar and told the crowd to “Back off it is going to get very hot, very fast.” I really didn’t appreciate all the pressure to perform. My body started to shake a bit with anxiety. My only solace was that I assumed that even at eighty five percent of my usual playing ability, it was still better than anyone else in the club. I felt a sudden sense that adrenaline had taken over my body. I ripped into the opening riff and let the rest of the band follow along. I was rusty, but I somehow managed to get through the song.

  After it was all done, I handed the guitar back to the kid and thanked him for the invite. I was done. The small crowd of maybe thirty people gave a nice applause and I thanked them as I walked off, but I felt nothing. There was no rush from being on stage once the song was over. Usually I get an extra rush, even from a small crowd, but nothing. I had no time to consider it, since my hand was throbbing. That was as hard as I had played on a solo since the accident. Between that and the two hours of standing playing pool, my hand and back were sore. I headed for the exit a short time later, but was stopped.

  The young lady came back over and thanked me for playing with her brother. It seems the guy who lent me his guitar was her twin brother who had a poster of me on his bedroom wall. I felt a bit like a fool, so I went back over to the stage during their break. I wrote down some lyrics from that experience on the back of a menu. I handed it to the twin brother. I also gave him Carl’s office number. I told him to call that number. If he had time next week, he was invited to the studio in New York and could come with his sister and watch me record one of the guitar tracks for the 60’s album. He and his sister were thrilled. I think that was my Christmas gift, their smiles. For about thirty minutes, I felt like my old self again.

  We stayed a few more days visiting with my mom and dad. Then it was off to North Jersey to visit with Debby. I had not seen her since the day of the accident. I was not sure how she would view me. I was still hobbling some in my walk pattern. I no longer needed a walker or even a cane, but I still could not run or jog yet. Elise and the kids came along for the ride. The moment Debby and I saw each other I was not sure if the tears were for her, or for me, but we both started to cry immediately. We both apologized for not being there for each other, but we knew the situation. We gave each other a hug until others started to take notice how long it was. After we calmed down from the initial tears, we sat for a few hours, but didn’t say too much. The three adults watched as the kids played together. As much as I wanted to stay calm for Debby, I felt so much rage for her ex husband. He had hurt her emotionally and physically. I tried to balance out my mind by talking about the upcoming recording sessions for the 1960’s album and the upcoming Overture album. Debby assured me her mind and voice would be ready for the recording slated for the spring. Kevin handled the restraining order, the divorce and had the jerk prosecuted. Debby assured me that Kevin and Carl were staying on top of all that for her and I need not worry. We had a nice visit and both promised to stay in touch until the recordings.

  The next day we all headed up to New York for a couple of weeks so that I could work on the 1960’s release. I was not sure how much I would be able to stay in New York in the future since my oldest daughter would be starting school in the fall. We had decided, well Elise decided, that the girls would attend school in North Carolina and would be raised there. I was not going to disagree loudly since my plan was to start recording and touring again. It was best they were happy and secure. I talked to Carl about selling the NY apartment. He thought it was still a good investment. We decided to keep it despite the expense and the fact I was not sure how much we would use it in the future. We discussed maybe renting it out after I was done recording The Overture album in the spring.

  An odd thing happened to me while driving in the city. For the first time I felt some apprehension to drive. More than one person had asked me if I was afraid to get in a car again after the accident, but it never occurred to me to be scared. I knew what had happened. First of all since I was a control freak and I was not driving the car when I was hit, I knew it was not the same thing. Plus I was hit by a drunk driver, it was not my fault, it was the drunk drivers and my God who had punished me. So maybe it was because in North Carolina most was rural driving. The closer I got to the center of the city, the more anxious I became. I even feared sitting behind the wheel. It was not enough to make me stop driving, but for the first time in my life, I was afraid to drive in city traffic. When I arrived back at the apartment, I took a Valium. It seemed to calm my nerves. I knew that was not the solution to my ills, yet I had nowhere else to turn. I thought about what Gordy had told me. He promised help. However, since this was the first time I return
ed to the area, I didn’t feel welcome in his shop. I didn’t think it was appropriate to call him. No, I would fight these demons alone.

  When I arrived at the recording studio, Duke was there. It seems he was helping to produce the album since parts were being done on each coast. He also wanted to know why two young kids were told they could come to the studio the next day and watch. I laughed and told him the story. I had Carl make the arrangements for their visit.

  We listened to what was already completed. Duke explained what he wanted from me. There were only ten songs on the record. I had two weeks to complete my parts. I figured we could do that without much of an issue, despite that I could still only play maybe an hour or so at any given time. My hand was healing on schedule. I was told one year from the accident I should be one hundred percent, so we still had another three months to go. I had hoped by the time we returned from the cruise I would be close enough to handle a full day in the studio. For this project, we were limiting it to only three hours of studio time each day. The goal was to do one or maybe two songs a day. I did all the guitar parts in nine days. One day I really didn’t get much done since I played around with the brother and sister too much. I let Matt play in the studio and try to record one of the solos the day they visited. Duke and I took them out to lunch, after the session we talked music for hours. I really liked Matt and Samantha and wished them both luck. I think I had more than made up for the fact that I turned down Samantha’s request the first time she asked me to hobble on stage. I am sure they appreciated the visit.

  January in New York City has its benefits, but the cold was starting to bother my entire body. I ached more than I was expecting. I am sure I took more pain killers than was scheduled. I figured once I got into the warm Caribbean on the cruise, I would back off on the medications. We stayed the full two weeks even though we had finished my parts of the recordings. This way Elise could have a few days shopping in the city, and visit a few exhibitions at the museums. I sat home with the girls while she had some much deserved “mommy free time”. I wanted her to enjoy herself, if only for a few days. We headed back to North Carolina in mid January 1989 for a few weeks until the cruise.