Oh my father, help me again for last night I sinned against myself.  I slipped and fell in love with another musician after you told me to safeguard my heart.  I was holding out and keeping my eyes on the prize of you possibly enriching my life with a real good man that walked with you instead of his ego and will put me first in his life before a gig.

....

Last night while I sat in the midst of his studio, that venomous serpent of a man slid into my mind and distracted me from guarding my heart, leaving me under his spell after he got off of the piano to pick up his guitar and extract from my mind, my own melodies as he serenaded me in the most harmonious way.  He was slick with the use of his guitar pick.  I was in awe of his talent.  A soft spoken and patient man he appeared to be. He was slow to speak in that resonant bass tone and quick to think.  He possessed all the qualities that never worked for me in the pass, but yet I sat there caught up in the spell of it all.  Although he saw the conflict within me, he was just an opportunist taking advantage of my heart’s desires; because, I have been so faithful to me in putting up a fight over the years.  I figured that he must have been sent by you. And, that he had to be safe enough to let my guards down a little; because, he stood so tall and definitely a work of beauty in all his ways.  He possibly, could even be someone that I could subject myself to and submit to his headship.

  ....

Father I’m asking you to help me to cushion this fall and land on my feet this time if he takes my heart and just abuse it.  Don’t let me end up more bitter behind this experience as I was in the pass while in search of my soul mate.  And should he just drop me like a bad habit, help me to compensate by writing some of the best blues lyrics that I can contrive in the minor keys and a tempo that I can dance my deliverance to so that I can keep myself slim and trim for the one that you'll send to me.

....

After this time father I promise not to walk back down through the valley of death to my own identity, after doing all that I can to make this love thing work, only to perish in the flash floods of all the tears to come; nor, let me burn in the fiery den of coveting passion.  For I know now that I am the weaker vessel and lacking the virtue you expect of me.

....

And Father if by some chance he may be just as interested in me and for once, I  have lucked up and finally got it right, then let your angels sing, Gabriel blow his horn, and Mariam beat her tambourine for me in praise, and inspire me to write some of the best baby making love songs in the history of man and let your will be done in spreading love and unity to heal the land.....

Oh well it has happened.  She has grown into a woman making her own decisions now.  She was taken as a child,back when her mind was fertile and impressionable.  They wasted no time in molding her.  She was like Gumby and could be posed into
any position.  She was like fresh clay ready to be molded into whatever Idol they could make of her.   Youth was on her side and all they saw was a long ride on her skirt tail of success. 
For the Queen is aging, and no heir to her throne.  She was that promise, and had been groomed to inherit the position of royalty.  She wore alligator shoes and walked amongst the hungry Wally Gator's snapping at her.  She was a Princess alright in a symbiotic relationship.  They created a demand and she followed their commands.  They could not exist without her. ....

.. ..
I did a gig some time back in Doyle PA.   While the band was doing their sound check I was having a conversation with the Owner.  I had noticed a glossy picture of the Princess on the wall among so many of the Greats in Blues.  What was so remarkable was that the Owner had acquired some colossal size oil paintings of some of the legends discarded from the Apollo Theater. This girl’s 8x10 glossy stood out.  I was wowed by her and had just become familiar with her works.  Her graciousness made such an impression on the owner and had nothing but kudos for her as she talked good about her.  The owner could not get over her age.  “I wanted to laugh at her” the owner said: as she talked about how her man had done her wrong and how hurt she was over that.  We both laughed as we struggled to remember our puppy love turning us blue.  She was just barely twenty one  and in for many heartaches. ....

.. ..
So the next day I was off to the Pocono’s Blues Festival.  She was the Headliner and I was a spectator with a backstage pass.  I brought my chair in a bag and set it up in the front row to catch the acts.  I like to see the artist from the front view instead of their backside or side view.   I did not get a chance to meet her that day when she was under the tent during her meet and greet session.   I bust my pants, while getting up out of my lawn chair.   So I had to go inside the lodge and wait with that religious steel guitar family from New York until the road manager returned from the hotel room with a change of pants.  I’m sure that family prayed for me.  Now I’m known for showing my ass but I wasn’t trying that day.  I was having a great time.  ....

.. ..
Afterwards I met her manager, so he claimed and he was on full with her success.  He was tooting his horn about her next project and songs that he had penned for her. I’m thinking, what!  This old man writing his old fogy blues for this teenager. Is he for real!  What kind of swamp water are they drinking up there in Chicago gator land?   How long will she submit to that?  She did pen a few songs.  The one about her father’s guitar is my favorite.  She was feeling that.....

So I was not shocked when I read the article that she, Shemika Copeland had come to the decision to follow her heart as an artist and pursue a different genre.  She announced that she wanted to sing Pop Music.  She made that desire known some years back. She has the talent to sing whatever style she desires.  I was left
wandering who failed who?  Were the powers to be that out of touch with the talent they had in hand?  How beneficial for the label monetarily, had someone wrote for her some pop tunes to bridge the swampy blues crossover.  Most labels do have other genres to stay diversified.   I couldn’t help but think of the artistic
advantage of being an Indy Artist.  What guts for her to walk away from the molds or the ball and chains that kept her
suppressed as an artist.   Shemika you don’t sling a guitar across your back like your Daddy, and you don’t need to even hold a mic; but, you went to the crossroads and had your epiphany instead of selling your soul.     I say; Shemika, you go girl!  Show the world the woman you have grown to be, a crusader. 
Step out and go beyond what you were confined to do.  ....

Do I love Blues? Yes I do.  But with the changes in the industry
and economy, Blues don’t love me the way I want to be loved.  You grow weary and disenchanted.  Deep within, the love is still there in the heart to be summoned by the mind.   How much does one have to suffer for the art?  That’s another blog.....

.. ..

.. ..

I saw the movie Cadillac Records not because of her but because it was sort of like a documentary of the evolution of Blues Music.  Although I did feel that she did a good job in maybe capturing your likeness and sticking close to the arrangement of your song.  She handled that well.  Although scripted, there was something convincingly lacking in comparison.  What the hell does she know about paying some damn dues and having the blues?  I listened intently to the emotion in her voice as she sang in the movie and at the Ball.  I was not convinced that she really understood your interpretation of the song.   How could she know what it would feel like to have ever longed for love?  What past experiences could she have drawn from?  How many opportunities in her guarded life to have had her heart, mind and life messed up behind?    What did she know or even her parents know what it must have felt like to be the Queen and using the service entrance to the Grand Hotels you may have performed in but could not stay in?

I saw her tears and how she was overwhelmed and could not express the honor of singing before the First Black President of the United States.  I cried along with her in being caught up in the emotional historical event.  I’m not saying that she could not have been empathetic because she is too young to understand the Black American experience.  I known that the Presidential Theme was about Change and it embraced the youth, but!  It was also about the disadvantage being trampled on.  And yet on the other hand, she did give you your props in support of the movie.  But there was still something just fundamentally wrong here.

I watched Aretha do her thing.  I cried tears of joy.  I was so pleased with her performance under the circumstances of the extreme cold and controlling her emotions.  I was convinced that Aretha knew what she was singing about.  The goose bumps on my arms and legs told me so.   I said to myself what an honor for her.  She had sung before Presidents and even Queens but this was so different.  That was a lifetime achievement for her.  No trophy, no plaque, no piece of paper acknowledging her accomplishments could pale to what she was up there feeling and thinking.  What a privilege bestowed on her that moment in time.   At that time it was about Aretha’s moment of glory.  Oh Happy Day!

When I watched Beyonce sing your signature song.  I got angry just like you because you were just robbed of that life time achievement award.   I thought to myself how selfish and that she probably would not have been asked to perform if it had not been for portraying you.  I felt that she should have passed that on to you.  I felt that she could have been bigger than that, by referring the invitation to you and being satisfied just to have a ticket to the ball. No bigger honor to her than to have shown some humility.  Only a few Stars have done that on
occasions.   She has achieved so much and a lifetime to keep achieving, because she is just that smart, savvy, talented and have not tapped into all that she is capable of at this time in her life. Perhaps she may have even thought my same thoughts and just a victim of circumstances, under the direction of those in the industry who are making a healthy living off of her enduring fame.

Etta you have worked so hard and been through so much.  You have been up and have been down and now overshadowed.  You have certainly been an inspiration to me and so many others.  No I don’t try to emulate you but what I have learned from you was perseverance.  I saw you perform some years back at the Long Beach Jazz Festival.  I watched stage hands wheel you up in a wheelchair and you performed sitting before an eager crowd of loyal fans.  I was inspired at my age at that time to pursue what I loved; because,in that genre age beauty and health did not matter.

I don’t think that you was bitter at her per say, but that once again life have dealt you a blow.  I can’t help but think that if you had not been categorized as a Blues Artist today would you have been chosen to sing before the President at such an
elegant occasion, since Blues is viewed by our own and so many others as back
porch music.  Maybe it’s the masculine image perpetuated by the Blues Woman who dominates the circuit today.  Acting like men and dressing like men is
hurting our chances of getting invited to the ball. 

In the movie Cadillac Records, Etta, the fact that you had been the instrument in leading the label into a new genre with your own style and grace was very clear.  Your appearance was always feminine but that blues label just stayed placard around your neck through the years after you have paved the way out.  I feel that you are a victim of the Blues Stigma.  Had you been labeled anything other than Blues, I feel that you would have been invited to the Ball.  Since blues emerged from the sharecroppers fields of the South and migrated to the stockyards of Chicago and should have been on the menu and served by a BLUES ARTIST at the Ball.  Not to mention that the instrumental version of your song was played at another ball that night.  Now the instrumental version would have been easier for me to accept then what really went down.

Know that the Blues community Love and Adore you and always
support you for your Lifetime of Contributions.  Your name, style and talent to me, as an emergent, is just as monumental as hers in comparison.  But what have me perplexed; is the interest in this little piece of the industry pie.  Of what benefit is it to the major’s in terms of marketing her.  Can the Festival
Promoters afford her, could she ever satisfy the finicky taste of the blues aficionados for record sales or is it about securing for her a spot for when
she cools off, used up and played out to have a home to come back to.  She got too much energy to stand still and sing Jazz.  So of course we will welcome
her to that place where she’ll have to sit beside us and contend with the
successes of all those Blues Legends that still dominate the radio charts post
humously. I don’t believe that being married to Jay Z could produce works that
can withstand the test of time when it comes to Blues. 

And we all know that your works have solidified your place into the hearts and minds of so many. She respects your work and as a professional I know that you respect hers; it was just the slight in not having the opportunity to perform your work for such a prestigious event after the fact of still being alive, well and
willing, made you say foolish things as I would have said a lot worse.  And if I had been given that same opportunity as Beyonce, I would have put on a wig, a spanx, two girdles and a knock off gown and try to sing my butt off too, just like you would have.  Time has a way of healing and soon the controversy will die down and you will laugh about it.

So all Ladies of the Blues, how do we right this?  Let’s be resolved to honor all of our foremothers of the blues by representing our selves as ladies first, musicians and singers later.  Never would our foremothers come out on stage dressed so casual and unfemme.  Men you can learn from this also.   BB is always in a tux when he performs and Koko treats her audience with the same self respect.    Image is everything and the future of blues may hinge on just that.  I would sure
hate to miss out on my invitation to a Ball based on class and appearance.  If we could just dress it back up than maybe we can open more doors.   If we are going to preserve it in the manner of Lomax and Burns, than let’s do it right and call it what it is and not what it resemble.  Rock is Rock, Metal is Metal, Soul is Soul Country is Country and Blues is Blues.

It’s my thought’s, on my page, on myspace!

I was just taking the time to catch up on my email; and, to
my surprise that unanticipated alert from CD Baby was there, letting me know
that there was a check at my PO Box from your purchase of my music.   You see, I was not expecting any royalty payments
because of these hard economic times. 

I just want you all to know, that I intend to keep your spirit
of giving by donating it to the charity of my choice. 

Thanks for your support of Independent Music through CD Baby
and its affiliates, my only and official distributor.  Thank you for your purchase of my CD and all the single downloads.

Patty Benson
The Humble Bee

Mixology

I don't perform as much as I'd like too.  For many reason's that have become more obvious to me.  Many Artist that I have come to know who now suffers from burnout have put into my head that they have reached dissatisfaction from the passion turning into a job rather than a hobby and come to resent it.   So I protect that privilege because I'm at a point in my life where I just want to have fun.  ....

....

There was a group back in the 70's named Bloodstone.  They introduced me to the term "natural high".  I would play that song over and over in quadraphonic stereo and listen as that term reverberated in my head.  "Take to the sky on a natural high."   What did they mean: Boone's Farm vs. Weed?  Too young to understand what and how love will make you feel.  I tucked that question deep into my subconscious until now I can answer it.....

....

I can't wait to flood my bloodstream with endorphins, serotonin, and adrenalin each time that I perform.   I'm feeling so good up there before you on this self induced concoction.   I try to turn my burned out friends on to this mix and a few can tap in and relate; the other's still want to depend on an exogenous mix.   I find that at times I'm the only one tweaking.  Sometimes after the show I may have a drink or two, to self medicate just to, bring myself down.   It's a delicate balance between the distillates, the fermented and the naturalistic.  Too little will have no effects, one too many can mix with the body's own chemicals and have some adverse reaction.    You'll wake up the next day feeling an enormous amount of guilt for having act so stupid publicly, then apologizing your whole morning and afternoon away.  In this day and age when everyone has a camera, it's not worth the risk.   My excuse and my advice: if you don't have a degree in chemistry' don't go mixing chemicals if you don't want the reaction.....

....

I have already sent out personal emails and made phone calls to all of those that I may have offended.   For all of those that I could not reach consider this my public apology for showing my ass last weekend at the WIB 3 Festival.  I had a ball ya'll! And I'm still up in the sky.....

Wow! There I was in the mix of all the fervor.  Yes I was caught up in the frenzied hype created by the ambience of a darkened room pulsating from the low end of the subwoofers to some big beats.  With each blast from the subs my heart caved in and down into my stomach, just like that feeling you get from the drop while on a rollercoaster.  Yeah I was feeling good.  Hennessy had me feeling that way plus I was beaming from thoughts of being treated to the experience.   There I was, in a room, full of, freaky military wives, and young women in a heightened state of wanton and middle age ladies who have let their bodies grow off into many directions fanning with their dollar bills and wanting the years to roll back, just wishing.  Wow! What a crazy scene.

The first act came out and all of a sudden I was pushed back from my front roll view by all the women who came charging from the back,  screaming and hollering hands clutching there dollar bills waving in the air.  What's going on?  What's happening?  What they doing?  No they aint doing what I think they're doing?    I was cool standing in the back.  I was not about to be clawed and have my new cream butterfly sleeve shirt ruined by somebody else's make up; no, not on my birthday suit.  So I stood up on a chair to see what had these women going crazy.

And oh my god was that real that's attached to him?  Just where in the world could he park all of that?  No! That can't be real.  That poor guy, what a freak of nature, I thought.  That is scary just down right torturous. Who in the world but Elasta Girl could get with that.  I'm a firm believer that there is somebody for everybody.  I'm still searching.   Then I reasoned, well, 7lbs and 7 ounces came out of my birth canal, and I've seen a 14lb and some ounces come out of a 4ft and 11 inch woman, so maybe it wasn't so big after all; but none the less, my curiosity was peaked.  I stood there in my chair with my mouth wide open in amazement.  I soon shut it because of what I was thinking in private to be busted for, by publicly lusting.  No one even saw that I was digging it and caught up in it.

The next dancer came out wearing these chains and a chain in his hand.  He jerked this woman out of the crowd that was obviously feeling him.  Made her get down on all fours and wrapped his chain around her neck and led her around the floor like she was a dog.  Right then my mood changed.  Hennessy had me so mad.   I could not believe what I had just witnessed.   How degrading and insulting the gesture was.  I looked around to get a witness and to my surprise I was the only one that was not feeling it.  Ladies, ladies, ladies!  What are we doing?  Where is our conscience?  Young ladies, and mothers, where have self respect and pride gone?   Speaking of  gone, Hennessy had ran off and left my mind stone cold sober to deal with all those voices going off  in it. 

I actually stood in a chair and watch that woman crawl around on the floor on all fours acting like a female dog and at one point in the act she turned onto her back and submitted to the humiliation.  No, I was not entertained. No more entertained than watching National Geographic.  However I did feel the shame that she was not obviously feeling.   It wasn't that long ago that it meant fighting for the survival of your reputation if you were called a female dog.  What ever happened to the school yard phrase: my momma didn't raise no bitch!  Or, because I was called a bitch, it was understood that you were directly insulting my mother.  And, one had to fight to defend her honor.   I became even more critical of each proceeding act which appeared to be more sensitive to a woman's desires.    

I continued to stare at that young man with contempt, for offending the sistahood and  all of woman kind throughout the show as he made his rounds during the other's act.  He grabbed some young lady wearing those booty cutting shorts and bent her over her table and slapped her on her butt so hard that later she walked around showing off her welts from his hands.   The thought may have occurred to her that if she had worn shorts that fit she might have had more protection from the sting.   She didn't get it and at times I could see that she was feeling the pain.  She probably drove home with her girls with Akon blasting on her car stereo and in unison they're singing: smack that ass.   And they call that entertainment.  I saw a lawsuit in the making.  Hell, we were all locked in that building with intoxicated testosterone and only one bean pole of a security officer who was not even straped.  Why was I getting so paranoid when nobody was smoking?  Well maybe I was just a bit annoyed.

This particular young man was obviously disturbed and had major issues with women.  One messed up young man wearing the emotional scars of what some woman may have done during his childhood rearing.  After my anger subsided I felt sorry for the guy.   Although the women who allowed him to humiliate them where still stupid and maybe the cause of his anger.

What a flip of the script.  It is usually the men going out and spending the household income on that kind of entertainment.  These women were giving the money up like their was no end.  I wondered how many of my taxed dollars was being spent that night also.  By the way, as hard as I work for my endz, I went home with the same twenty dollar bill that I came with.  It was my birthday and nothing was short about this shorty going home and feeling cheap from the experience.

The majority of first time experiences are not pleasurable, and this is one that I could never forget when I won't to forget until my next first time.   To each is his own.

The Price We Pay For Freedom

     We have heard the word freedom used often lately.  I never sat and tallied how many times from one news cast to the next that the word freedom is used.  In war, lives are sacrificed to win someone's freedom.   This concept seems senseless.  Since the creation of man, freedom was granted to choose our destiny and in that process we lost our right to live forever.  My point is that there is always a consequence to face when one loses freedom to gain freedom.

     So what am I talking about?  I'm talking about my right to live in a smoke free environment.  Smokers do have the right to smoke if they so choose; but, do they have the right to encroach on my freedom with their cigarette smoke?

     So what do I mean?   I have just learned that another artist has succumbed to the effects of second hand smoke related to their work environment no doubt.  It is my biggest fear.  My passion to perform subjects me to the hazards of second hand mega-smoke in the bars and clubs.  Few cities have regulations that support employees by banning smoking in public places.  Some venue owners can't afford adequate ventilation in support of its patron's and employee's.  But who bears the brunt of responsibility? It is the smoker's themselves who can exercise their right to smoke and yet respect the rights of those who don't smoke, by smoking in their own private surrounding like their car, house or bathroom.   

     A few years ago I had the opportunity to see one of the greatest female blues artists, Toni Lynn Washington, perform in a small and intimate venue located in the heart of Tobacco country.  I was choked with pity as I watched her suffer from the effects of the thick cloud of cigarette smoke.  I watched her eyes turn redder with each set and by the final set she was practically covering her nose and mouth as she sang, struggling to keep from coughing as she sang.  She was obviously showing signs of respiratory distress.   Do you know how hard it is to sing without taking breaths?  Yet she finished the show honoring her contract and not disappointing her fan's.   What a woman I thought.    

    I just read a blog posted on www.myspace.com/wib3woman page written by the blues singer, Candye Kane who has succumb to the effects of second hand smoke, an occupational hazard.  With a long standing career in performing in smoke filled rooms, she has been diagnosed with possible pancreatic cancer in which one of the causes is smoking.  Although she believes that it is possibly from being subjected to the hazards of second hand smoke over the many years.  

It is a horrible catastrophic diagnosis.   But she is one tough and positive woman, determined to approach this issue in a holistic way.  My heart, support and strength go out to her and may yours also.   We can show our love and support by not lighting up and trampling on the God given freedom of others.  The irony is; how can we go abroad and spread freedom when we can't get it together here. "Love your neighbor as you would yourself".  Lu 10:27

    By now we have all heard of the untimely passing of the Great Ike Turner on December 12. 2007.  My mood turned to melancholy upon reading about his passing.  Wow, another one from that shameful era, gone.  One of the few dinosaurs left (brink of extinction).  Who would rise up and face the challenges of keeping Blues Music alive with a fresh innovative approach.  He was an innovator.

    I surfed the web and listened to a radio commentary that morning to learn more about the legend's life.  I wanted to know more about his most recent contributions to American Roots Music.  The negative aspects of the way that he chose to live his life dominated the articles and the spoken commentaries.  And sandwiched between was a thin slither of accolades for his contributions as one of the founding fathers of Rock and Roll.  Inwich he considered his music as R&B. What a sad eulogy I thought.  Even in death the man could not escape the modern day lynch mob, the media.

And so I was provoked into writing this blog; because, my fundamental Christian faith was disturbed.  How could it be that the small portion of pompous, self righteous, self appointed moral majority, can still have their own powdered noses turned up when it comes to his pass, inwhich he has repented for.  It's a personal matter between he and his God.  Just let it go people!  If we were so perfect than why in the hell would God Almighty send his only son, who was perfect to redeem our sorry behinds.   Hello people!  So be it, Amen!

    Ike spoke candidly about his prison term; and, isn't the prison system designed to rehabilitate.  Evidenced by his not returning.  Ike credited his prison term for saving his life from the destruction of his lifestyle, chemical dependency, an illness deserving our mercy.  What a bunch of hypocrits.  The industry is full of people with a chemical dependency.  But unlike Ike, those who are worth more to their contracts can just get away with just the slapping on of the handcuffs, and released a few hours later, totally escaping reformation.  The man served his time and had been sober for years.

    It's been said that the man had  many demons.  Well the biggest demon that Ike had to face was the character damage done to him by Hollywood, the masters of illusions and deception.  He was victimized and vilified by the infamous movie, What Love Have To Do With It.  Many was led to believe that the movie was a biography that accurately depicted the truth about his life.  The portrayed image was burned on the minds of a new generation of  potential fans.  The character portrayed was no doubt a conjoured  figment of the imagination of the brilliant actor who portrayed him in the movie.  I would have written my own autobiography after that to preserve my integrity as a man.  We can't always believe what we see when it comes to Hollywood.  This beast of a demon was ferocious enough to have sent any one back into relapse.  But not Ike.  At this point more people is coming forth and offering insight as to who the new Ike was and I hope that they are the ones to eulogize him.

    Ike perservered in the face of his adversaries.  When he returned to the only occupation, his vocation, he was not well received or forgiven I should say.  Perseverence  is a strong characteristic that I admire because God admire's and requires it. A quality worth imitating.  In spite of all the bad press he stayed focus on the new man he had become and on his music which had taken a new direction solidifying the fact that he was an innovator.  Many musicians have gotten over by imitating his style, his unique artisan thumbprint.  Many of us are indeed imitators; known today as a biter (emulating, copying, and the stealing of another artist style).

    I've come to understand his anger that seem to spill out in subsequent interviews.  The man had a right to be angry.  The man has suffered through the worst injustices throughout his life.  If my character was slandered, I would be bitter too.   He rose above all of that towards the end; at least I thought until the subject of his passing came up.  I listened as people's opinion of him was based from the movie.  The opinion of a generation who have only come to know of him through the movie.  I experienced the generation gap for the first time.  I was the only one concerned about the relevance of a generation passing away. a lost era, and a lost art.  Perhaps my emotions got the best of me as an emerging artist over the thought of being deprived of an opportunity of being educated in the art by a master, and not a biter.

    The conversation  degraded him even more in that the question of how he died at  76 years old became the focal point; suggesting that his death was related to life long abuse of drugs.  The man looked damn good to me for 76.  Their minds was stuck on the ideology of hell and therefore he had to suffer and be tormented for his sins.  I posed  the question of why couldn't he have died peacefully in his sleep ( inwhich he did) like so many  of us would choose, rather than tortuous pain.  Hopefully through some responsible editorializing his dignity would be restored.

    Through my search on the life of the man, I came across one of best interviews located in the Blues Revue Magazine, issue 104, Feb/ Mar 2007.  It explained the behavior of a man who was troubled by his extensive pass..  It showed how focused he was on being the better man he had become by evading the questions that would rope him back into that vilified character of the movie.  In the article, he had stated how the turn of life's events have afforded him the chance of smelling his flowers before his passing.  How so: I could not get the image out of my head  of him displaying the biggest smile and  dressed in a pure satin white with splashes of gold suit, holding onto the Grammy trophy he had won earlier this year.  He was dressed like the King Of Rock And Roll should.  Then an email came to me from the editor of just plain folks that had endearing  pictures of him celebrating his 73rd birthday.  Surrounded by people who appreciated and respected the man he was.  See link below to view photos.

    Contrary to what many want to believe, Ike Turner died at peace with himself.  "The world don't owe me anything, I've done okay and God has been really good to me" the Austin Chronicle 2001.  We can all rest assured that Ike will be judged fairly by his creator, the one who really has the right to judge.  Is that not what basic Christianity teaches?  Way to go Ike.

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