A Letter: The Day the Music Died.

They were Singing, Bye-Bye Miss American Pie

Comrades,

The footmen are calling for resistance, the turncoats are unmasking themselves, and women are crying in the streets of the city. Darkness is here, and the funeral for what we had and could have been must be scheduled. “The greatest victory is one that requires no battle” is underlined and highlighted in my copy of Sun Tzu’s, The Art of War. I regret to say, the enemy has achieved the greatest of victory.

It’s easier to lie to ourselves to sleep at night that somehow it might not be that bad. Yet, you’ll only find the truth here. The war is over; that was the last battle. The enemy has won.

Sober truths that must be digested. Some may find my diagnosis dramatic. To which I say, I will not stop you from not accepting the truth, if that is how you must cope, then cope. But do not be high for too long.

As for me, dear friends, I along with so many others, am grieving for my country. I am grieving for what never came, for what used to be, and for the normal I am not sure I’ll ever have. You will find no battle cry in this note. This moment is for death.

There will be a time and a place for much more correspondence between us on how to survive it all, how we are doing. But not today. Today the flag is at half-mast and my heart is gutted. My tears swell when I am not distracted from the schedule of dissociation I have planned for myself. And the only thing that has saved me from the numbness of grief as been fellow comrades like you.

And so I hope this letter finds you, in whatever phase you might be in, and lets you know you are not alone in mourning America, and for what never came to be.

There has been a death in the family. Host a shiva if you must, find a plot of land to bury what did not survive, say a prayer to your ancestor’s to take care of it’s plot. Light a candle in memory of it, and proceed to acknowledge you are in mourning. This is my own plan.

America has always been an idea, that took root and manifested into a reality for so many. It’s the reality that we are burying, that I am mourning.

And so I raise my glass in honor of this reality and I say thank you. Thank you for showing me it was possible. It was an honor to fight for you.

And I raise my fist to our murderer and say you can kill systems, you can can kill governments, you can kill mothers, women, black, brown, queer and all those you disagree with you. But you can never kill an idea. No matter how hard you try.

I may have no grandparents, but I am still a granddaughter. I may have no country, but I am still an American woman and so are you.

With love, Bianca Monaco

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I have found much solace in listening to this song singing along in sadness, in anger, in pride. I have bolded the lyrics that have resonated with my grief.

American Pie, by Don McLean

A long, long time ago
I can still remember how that music used to make me smile
And I knew if I had my chance
That I could make those people dance
And maybe they'd be happy for a while

But February made me shiver
With every paper I'd deliver
Bad news on the doorstep
I couldn't take one more step

I can't remember if I cried
When I read about his widowed bride
But something touched me deep inside
The day the music died

So bye, bye, Miss American Pie
Drove my Chevy to the levee but the levee was dry
And them good ole boys were drinking whiskey 'n rye
Singin' this'll be the day that I die
This'll be the day that I die

Did you write the book of love
And do you have faith in God above
If the Bible tells you so?
Now do you believe in rock and roll?
Can music save your mortal soul?
And can you teach me how to dance real slow?

Well, I know that you're in love with him
'Cause I saw you dancin' in the gym
You both kicked off your shoes
Man, I dig those rhythm and blues

I was a lonely teenage broncin' buck
With a pink carnation and a pickup truck
But I knew I was out of luck
The day the music died

I started singing bye, bye, Miss American Pie
Drove my Chevy to the levee but the levee was dry
Them good ole boys were drinking whiskey 'n rye
Singin' this'll be the day that I die
This'll be the day that I die

Now for ten years we've been on our own
And moss grows fat on a rollin' stone
But that's not how it used to be
When the jester sang for the king and queen
In a coat he borrowed from James Dean
And a voice that came from you and me

Oh, and while the king was looking down
The jester stole his thorny crown
The courtroom was adjourned
No verdict was returned

And while Lennin read a book on Marx
The quartet practiced in the park
And we sang dirges in the dark
The day the music died

We were singing bye, bye, Miss American Pie
Drove my Chevy to the levee but the levee was dry
Them good ole boys were drinking whiskey 'n rye
Singin' this'll be the day that I die
This'll be the day that I die

Helter skelter in a summer swelter
The birds flew off with a fallout shelter
Eight miles high and falling fast
It landed foul on the grass
The players tried for a forward pass
With the jester on the sidelines in a cast

Now the halftime air was sweet perfume
While the sergeants played a marching tune
We all got up to dance
Oh, but we never got the chance

'Cause the players tried to take the field
The marching band refused to yield
Do you recall what was revealed
The day the music died?

We started singing bye, bye, Miss American Pie
Drove my Chevy to the levee but the levee was dry
Them good ole boys were drinking whiskey 'n rye
And singin' this'll be the day that I die
This'll be the day that I die

Oh, and there we were all in one place
A generation lost in space
With no time left to start again
So come on, Jack be nimble, Jack be quick
Jack Flash sat on a candlestick
'Cause fire is the devil's only friend

Oh, and as I watched him on the stage
My hands were clenched in fists of rage
No angel born in Hell
Could break that Satan's spell

And as the flames climbed high into the night
To light the sacrificial rite
I saw Satan laughing with delight
The day the music died

He was singing bye, bye, Miss American Pie
Drove my Chevy to the levee but the levee was dry
Them good ole boys were drinking whiskey 'n rye
And singin' this'll be the day that I die
This'll be the day that I die

I met a girl who sang the blues
And I asked her for some happy news
But she just smiled and turned away
I went down to the sacred store
Where I'd heard the music years before
But the man there said the music wouldn't play

And in the streets, the children screamed
The lovers cried and the poets dreamed
But not a word was spoken
The church bells all were broken

And the three men I admire most
The Father, Son and the Holy Ghost
They caught the last train for the coast
The day the music died

And they were singing bye, bye, Miss American Pie
Drove my Chevy to the levee but the levee was dry
And them good ole boys were drinking whiskey 'n rye
Singin' this'll be the day that I die
This'll be the day that I die

They were singing bye, bye, Miss American Pie
Drove my Chevy to the levee but the levee was dry
Them good ole boys were drinking whiskey 'n rye
And singin' this'll be the day that I die