By chance, I happened across my local PBS station’s plea for pledges to keep it on the air. It was a concert to honor Peter, Paul, and Mary’s fifty years in the music industry. Having grown up with this group, what could I do but watch?
So I did. And relived my own fifty years along with theirs.
It began in the 1960s. I was in college when the Vietnam War and civil rights and women’s lib were raging. But in many ways, I was too demure, too Catholicized, too mousey to participate in any of these movements.
Still, Peter, Paul and Mary gained prominence, and I supported their agendas in theory if not in action. I never marched for freedom, but I believed in those who did. I never went to Selma, but I thought those on that bridge were justified. And I never helped people make it to the polls, although I believed they should be allowed.
PPM did all these things; because, outside their music, they were activists. They participated in various walks and gathering and meetings regardless of fall-out for their music. Then Mary Travers died at age 72 in 2009.
The two remaining singers decided to carry on in Mary’s honor, for which I’m grateful. Because would I want to live in a world where PPM isn’t acknowledged? Probably not.
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