#tom piazza

Carl Perkins and his wife Valda, c. late 1990s. / This picture is the cutest, I’ve seen of them, thus far in my life, they’re holding hands, all in love. It’s a moment to behold, so rare to see her, even rarer to see them together. I wanted to include this here since it seemed fitting.

I knew Carl put his family first before his career, yetI don’t think I ever understood the importance of his choice, until I read his interview, “The Lost Man of Rock-and-Roll,” by Tom Piazza. Now, I have more respect for him than before. I’ll be sharing excerpts from the article, that leads up to the thing I wanted to write about:

In the late 1970′s, he began touring with a band that included two of his sons, Stan and Greg, who were a source of constant pride to him. “I didn’t try to pull them into music,” he says. “But when Stan was little, he would take two pencils and beat on his mamma’s coffee table, and I said, ‘Oh, Lord, that boy’s going to be a drummer.’ I don’t like to hear anybody bragging on their kids, but I played with a lot of people in my life, and when those two boys look at the back of this old man’s head and start playing, it hits a groove and it just works.”

It surprises me, that Carl didn’t like hearing other people brag on their kids, but I get what he meant, could be annoying, it’s not humble or healthy to compare your kids with others. That being said, he should’ve talked more about his kids. Come to think of it, the four rarely spoke of their children, not many stories, or if they were proud. They probably did that for two reasons: To keep their privacy -- that was cool to do, and knowing people just wanted their music, not their personal lives. Still, it’s refreshing, from the four, to read Carl was proud of his sons. Also, I know Carl as a musician, had an eye for spotting talent, but it amuses me how he knew Stan was going to be a drummer. Like, one of those parents who see their toddler take interest in something and place a career on it, but I think Carl was more chill than that. He was right, though, Stan grew up to be a good drummer.

Mr. Perkins today is a warm, relaxed man, who would just as soon play a guitar, and sing during an interview as talk, although he is prodigiously gifted as a storyteller and informal living-room preacher. His emotions are close to the surface, and he breaks into tears easily when remembering a kindness done him or when talking about his family. He seems to be constantly in awe of the fact that he has survived and that he appears to have outrun his demons.

I’ve always believed, if Carl lived a little longer, he would’ve been more accepting of himself, forgiving of the mistakes he made in the past, being more at peace within himself than he was at 65. He seemed so close to that point, what was written here, is further proof of that. To know he went through so much, was rough around the edges, bitter, angry, a bit mean and careless, to being an old-mellow-dude and being almost completely at peace and alright, honestly, it’s a beautiful thing.

“I’m not a society man,” he says. “I don’t go to the country clubs, I don’t go to Nashville and hang out. I never fit in with that. My friends at home, work at the service station. I like to go fishing, I like an old cotton field, and I like to spend time with Valda. I never get tired of her.”

Reading this, I realized, there’s a side to Carl I’ve occasionally thought about, yet it’s a side of him I know nothing of, yet -- or probably never will. It’s the normal dude he was offstage, at home, in Jackson, Tennessee. Living a day with no financial obligations, running errands Valda sent him out for, visiting friends, doing chores around the house, playing with his dog, and spending time with his family. Then at night, he and Valda watch T.V. and he gives her a rose from their garden. I don’t think too much about it because I don’t know if his life was so serene, but it’s that side of him is uncharted territory for me, it’s a little scary too? What if someday I found out something, and it changes my view of him completely? That’s the exciting part. It might not always be good or what I expected, but there’s always something new to learn, whether it’s furthering my research and understanding of these four, or using what I learned to better myself and how I see the world. So, as I continue learning, I’ll assume the best. I’ll be honest, parts of my research are deeply personal, though.

Over the years, Mr. Perkins has come to accept himself as he is. If the upper reaches of popular recognition have eluded him, he is certain that he has gained something more valuable. “I never envied Elvis his mansion and all that. All these boys -- Elvis, Jerry Lee, Roy Orbison -- they all lost their wives, their families. People say, ‘What happened to you, Carl? All of them went on to superstardom. Where’d you go? I say, ‘I went home.’ And that’s a good place to be.

I finally understand what Carl meant, when he’d compare himself to John, Jerry Lee, Roy, and Elvis. Though they had money, fame, and stardom -- I’m sure at points in his life, he yearned for those things, but over the years watching what their lives became, he began to see it differently. When he’d compare, it wasn’t to disparage himself or what he had, instead, he was comparing what he had and they didn’t have -- And that was family. Think about it: 

• John would run around on his first wife, later June too. Wasn’t consistent with his daughters when they were kids. It’s no question if he loved his children, but those years on pills put doubt there, even for his son John Carter Cash. Yes, John was happily married to June, he loved his children, was a good grandfather, but his relationships with his kids suffered, and he ended up alone after June passed on. 

• Jerry Lee’s life is a mess, he was a terrible father. I don’t think he ever wanted to be one, seemed like something he had to do, for the times, it was expected of him. He lost two sons in preventable accidents, has a son and daughter he didn’t claim because they didn't look like him -- but they were biologically his; a daughter who he’s been ignoring for stupid reasons, and a son that isn’t biologically his but he raised better than his biological kids. Then Jerry Lee as a husband? We don’t have time to get into that can of worms. Man, just watching the soap opera that was and is Jerry Lee’s life, would make Carl rethink how he saw his life and be thankful for everything he had.

• Roy lost his first wife in a motorcycle accident, two of their three sons in a house fire. He regretted not spending enough time with his boys, in his second marriage, he made sure to be there for Roy Jr., and Alex, but he wasn’t there for Wesley. It wasn’t until just before his death, he apologized to Wesley for not being there. Now, the brothers are closer than ever, but Roy isn’t there to see it.

• Elvis lost his family and died young, though he had more than Carl and he held resentment toward Elvis for stealing ‘Blue Suede Shoes,’ Elvis couldn’t keep his family together, and he never got to see his daughter grow up and have kids of her own. It’s sad.

Carl wasn’t perfect. He was like anyone else, flawed, made mistakes, had regrets. Wasn’t a perfect husband or father, but he tried; to make up for his shortcomings, to right the wrongs he did to his family, but he couldn’t ever, really, forgive himself for the times he hurt or let them down. He did everything he could to do right by his family. If he heard it, he’d never claim it but Carl was a good father and husband -- Though he wasn’t always consistent in his drinking years, he was there for his family in his sober years, and throughout both chapters of his life, he thought he wasn’t good enough for them. He was a good man, though his life didn’t turn out like he wanted it to, he had his wife, kids, and grandkids, that was more precious than anything. 

As time went by, he realized how lucky he was compared to John, Jerry Lee, Roy, and Elvis. He got to see old age, he was still married to his wife, who could’ve left him many times but choose to say by him, he was there for his kids, got to be a better grandpa than he was a dad. He may not have had the big mansion, island home, or the money to waste on flashy spending, and the fame he deserved -- But he had a home to go back to, with a family waiting for him. 

Ultimately, Carl had more.

TP: All right, let me ask you something. You’re from New York, right?

Q: Uh, Brooklyn.

TP: Fine. What do you think of when you think of the South? Don’t be scared—go on and say.

Q: Well, the Civil War, I guess. Segregation. Uh… Barbecue?

TP: Go on. That’s it?

Q: Southern literature. Faulkner, Flannery O’Connor. Blues singers. I don’t know… Guns. Cotton fields…

TP: Let me know when you’re finished.

Q: Southern accents?

TP: You’re done. You did about like I figured.

Q: What did I leave out?

Why New Orleans Matters

Tom Piazza

Every place has its history. But what is it about New Orleans that makes it more than just the sum of the events that have happened there? What is it about the spirit of the people who live there that could produce a music, a cuisine, an architecture, a total environment, the mere mention of which can bring a smile to the face of someone who has never even set foot there?

What is the meaning of a place like that, and what is lost if it is lost?

The winds of Hurricane Katrina, and the national disaster that followed, brought with them a moment of shared cultural awareness: Thousands were killed and many more displaced; promises were made, forgotten, and renewed; the city of New Orleans was engulfed by floodwaters of biblical proportions—all in a wrenching drama that captured international attention. Yet the passing of that moment has left too many questions.