Happy Birthday Ricky!

May 8, 1940. That date probably doesn't mean anything to you, but it means everything to me. That was the day sweet, Eric Hilliard Nelson made his big arrival in this world. Some may even say that he didn't stand much of a chance in making a mark on the world. He was skinny, sickly, weak, and suffered terrible asthma as a child. At some point, he overcame these problems and did make his mark on the world. A few of his achievements include: the only person to have a #1 TV show, song, and movie in the same week ("Poor Little Fool," The Adventures of Ozzie and Harriet, and Rio Bravo), the second generation member of the only family to have three generations of #1 hit songs, the first #1 hit on the Billboard Chart ("Poor Little Fool"), the only person to have records to chart in four different decades, and definitely the person who smuggled Rock 'n' Roll (gasp!) into American homes. It's said that the kids liked Elvis, but the parents didn't approve and that the parents approved of Pat Boone, but the kids weren't too fond of him, but Ricky was someone that the kids loved and the parents approved. Musically, Ricky doesn't get the recognition he deserves. I think the music scene today would be very different if he wouldn't have decided to try his hand at music. Some people think that Ricky's singing was purely a publicity stunt, but I know that's not the case. Yes, The Adventures of Ozzie and Harriet gave Rick a launchpad for success and publicity that most people don't have. That being said, Rick was truly passionate about music. When he was three years old, he would often go "missing" and would be found sitting underneath the record player (and on top of the heater) listening to music for hours. You can't call that a publicity stunt! That my friend is a true love of music. Once he began his career, he was often described as reclusive, at would spend most of his free time in his (soundproof) room playing his guitar, singing, or listening to records - often not even coming out to see company. The man had a passion for music that, in my opinion, rivals the "most" passionate musicians.

Today, I am thankful for Rick a bit more than I am on any given day. Aside from all his accomplishments, he was an all-around good man. If he hadn't have been a successful musician, I would still love him. The proof is that my favorite era of his music is his least popular. Don't get me wrong, I love "little Ricky," but grown up Rick is who really stole my heart. I've said it before, and I know I'll say it again. Rick has brought me something that really no one else has: understanding. Just hearing his voice, no matter what song, interview, or even in an episode of Ozzie and Harriet,  makes me feel not so alone. In his song, "Look at Mary," he says, "Mary takes you by the hand, she can tell that you understand." I honestly feel like that's what kind of the way I am. I can just tell that if Rick was alive and knew me, that he would understand, so I "took him by the hand." By the way, in "We've Got a Long Way to Go," he opens up by saying, "It's alright to take my hand, I'm your brother," so I'm taking full advantage of that! While on Pinterest, I saw an old magazine article about Bob Dylan promoting his "new" album, The Freewheeling Bob Dylan. A couple lines in the article say: "One Dylan fan, Joan Baez, said, 'I feel it,but Dylan can say it. He's phenomenal.' " (Now if you know anything about Bob and Joan, you know that she went up in ranks from a fan to a very close friend. She eventually sang with Bob, and recorded several albums of her own. She even did one entitled, Baez Sings Dylan.) That's beside the point, but I just like that. My real point is that Rick is to me what Bob is to Joan. Although I have learned to see things from a different perspective because of Rick, most of the time I'm already there. I already think and feel the same way, but Rick says it better than me. Those kind of bonds are rare. Some people spend their whole lives longing for this type of bond. For me, the tragedy is that I will never actually know Rick. There's this understanding, love, and maybe to some extent connection, but no actual communication. It's easy for me to get upset and wish that I could see Rick just once, to give him a big hug, and utter four words to him. Yep, only four. I would just lean in real close and say, "Thank you, Mr. Dolphin," and he would know exactly what I mean.After I fantasize about that for a while, I think about how much pain he went through in his life, how much better of a birthday he's having in heaven, and that it's going to be awesome to be able to meet him for the first time in heaven. I mean I could give him the hug I've been saving for him, say my four words, then look over to God and be like, "Thanks, God. You did well on this one," and then be able to stand beside Rick and sing praises to God with  him. That's going to be the best meeting ever.

All that being said, I really just want to say this:
Happy 76th Birthday, Sweet Eric!