I knew the band might need some changes soon since Junior was talking about retiring, at least from touring. Debby didn’t want to even hear from me, from a band perspective, for a year. Her husband told her that if she didn’t stay home for at least a year, he would leave her. I was furious when I heard that news, but really it was her life. I knew deep down I had to stay out of her married life.
Being a dad made me appreciate being on the road, yet I knew I had to spend this time wisely with my daughters. I had never changed a diaper. I had never been alone with my daughters. Elise wanted to have some “me time” one day to get her hair and nails done and left me alone with them. I think I was more petrified being alone with them for a few hours, then I ever was standing on a stage with fifty thousand sets of eyes staring back at me. I didn’t want to have to call Elise’s mother, who was only ten minutes away, to come and help. Nor did I want to call my own mother for advice. I am sure it was a payback for a day or so earlier when I told Elise, “She didn’t have nearly the pressure on her to perform day in and day out like I did in my career.” Now I understood the snarl, it only took one dirty diaper.
At first I really thought maybe the diaper could wait until mommy came home. The screaming started at that pitch that was now worse and louder than Roger Daltry on that classic song. I had no choice but to do something, or suffer not only the screaming for another hour or more, but also the wrath of Elise upon her return. It was even upsetting my older daughter, so it was time to be brave. I took her out of the crib and put her on the changing table. Her poor eyes were so puffy from all the crying, I was now feeling bad for not trying sooner. Even at a young age the female sex knows how to put a guilt trip on the male variety. I slowly pulled the tape from the sides of the diaper with a mess and the most awful smell that was possible on this great earth was now being exposed to my senses. I glanced quickly to see if Elise had a gas mask nearby, but none was in visual contact. I didn’t want to leave the poor child there while I searched for what should be available in times like that. I cleaned her off with the diaper. I found a tin of wipes, using about half the box wiping her clean. With my other daughter watching closely, I somehow managed to get a fresh one on her. Eventually the scream that I don’t even think a mother could love, ceased. I managed to make it to the kitchen with the two of them in tow and found a juice box and a bottle for the two of them. We all sat on the sofa and watched some purple dinosaur sing to my daughters about love and peace. I thought maybe about calling the station manager to see if John Lennon had been reincarnated singing about peace, but I knew they would not appreciate my humor either, so I passed.
When Elise arrived home with a few shopping bags, and her newly styled hair, the three of us had one eye open, and one eye on that purple creature on the television. It was the first time I had started to bond with my own children. It felt good. When Elise asked “How did it all go”, I merely replied “A piece of cake”. When she gave me that stare again, I said again, “No really could you please get me a piece of cake from the fridge I don’t want to wake them?” She didn’t need to know at that moment that I had been in sheer panic mode while she was away for a few hours. I took her out to a fancy dinner later that week to let her know what a good mother I thought she was, and presented her with a new necklace. I knew she wanted the acknowledgment more than a necklace, but it made me feel less guilty that I had not told her for many months how much she was appreciated.
The next few weeks I stayed in North Carolina, which was the longest I had been in one place, in years. I spent it learning about how to be a dad and husband and tried to become part of the community. Elise took me to the center of town one Saturday night. All the people from the town were all gathered to play music at the end of the street. Elise showed me that exact spot where she started to learn how to play in front of others. I was embarrassed that I didn’t know how to play any of the songs the townspeople were playing, but I did strum along with one or two. One of the older guys did tease me a bit with his comment “Some music star you are you can’t play any of the classics.” I smiled and kept on strumming a few chords trying to make it look like I was keeping up. I failed miserably, but it was a nice evening.
The night before leaving for Washington, I received a call from my dad. He did the usual “How are the kids and you don’t visit your mother enough” speech before going deeper. He said he heard about the award and that he knew I did the shows, but he had no idea that I had played so many times in private for the staff and patients at the veterans hospitals all over the country. I told him that I liked to keep that private and asked how he found out. He told me that he had a friend who was transferred to the veterans department. He had called my dad to let him know what a fine man I must be and how proud my dad must be of me. I was listening to the story and I think my dad was caught off guard by the call. He knew we did a show or two, but he had no idea really how many times I showed up with little warning, just to play for others. My dad then broke down and told me that he was “Very proud that I spent my life pleasing others many times just for the satisfaction of helping others.” He continued “I am proud of the man you have become even if you still can’t play my favorite song.” I think that one call made it all worth it.
I really didn’t want to leave home, but it was time for me to head to our nation’s capital to pick up our award and smile. I called the band. Debby changed her mind and decided to join Sasha, Duke and I. Billy was paying for studio time and Junior sounded very tired and passed on the trip. I kissed all three girls good-bye, got in my car, and headed up I-95 to Washington D.C. A local radio station knew I would be in town. The station manager called to see if I would do a live interview at the station while in town. I agreed to be in studio for an hour to take calls and answer questions. They asked if I would bring any other band members, but I didn’t ask the others to join me.
I arrived the night before the ceremony and caught up with Duke and Sasha. Debby and her husband would not stay in the same hotel as us, since her husband was being his usual miserable self and wanting Debby to keep her distance from all things related to the band. We went out to dinner and started to talk about ideas for the next record. I asked Duke if he wanted to add some tracks to the next album. He was pleased I asked. Sasha told me that she had just got back from Russia and saw her mother and sister for the first time since she left home with her old orchestra. She took all the newspaper photos and reports as well as all the magazine stories about her and the band. She also told me she had an offer from Playboy magazine to do photos for them. She told me they were doing a “Women in Rock and Roll” issue and wanted her to be included. I had to explain to her what that all meant by taking photos for that magazine. She let me know that she insisted on wearing some clothes. I told her that “Stilettos don’t count.” She was starting to not appreciate my humor.
The next morning was a beautiful spring day on March 25th, 1988 with a bright blue sky and little humidity. The ceremony was scheduled for ten o’clock in the morning which is early for musicians, but with two young daughters, I was starting to learn to be up before seven, even if I didn’t really like that hour of the day. After all we had to watch “Sesame Street” and Big Bird at seven. But here I was in the hotel lobby waiting on someone from the armed forces to come and pick us up. Debby came and met us at the hotel and waited with us, along side of her husband. There was obvious tension between them only this time, I was not the cause. Sgt. Adams with his neatly appointed pants and shirt picked us all up and took us over to an office building near the Reflecting Pool with the Washington Memorial in plain view. It was a beautiful view. I was already pleased that I was talked into going to accept the award. Debby and her husband were arguing a bit in the back seat, but the rest of us just kept taking in the view.
We arrived just before ten o’clock. We were greeted by a few army brass, as well as someone from the navy. We were introduced to them all, but all I saw were medals and ribbons on their chests. I figured t
he guys with the most were the ones I should smile for the most. They were very nice to all of us. Sasha kept talking about how she was going to tell her mother and sister she had met the President, but they kept correcting her. She knew she was not meeting the President, but they obviously did not know her like I did. I think she was starting to pick up some of my humor as she kept asking them which medal was the medal that only the President was only allowed to wear. I think they finally caught on after she giggled loudly after asking that question.
They walked us into a nice room where the photographer was waiting. We all chatted for another few moments. They presented us with the plaque, lined us all up, snapped what seemed to be about twenty photographs, and it was over. One official looking gentleman asked us to sign a few of our album covers. Moments later, Sgt Adams was instructed to take us back to the hotel. I however had promised to go by the local radio station after we were done. I went out front and waited for my ride to the station. I said my good bye to everyone and off they went. One of the guys who seemed like he had some clout, invited Sasha to tour the Capital. Duke managed to tag along much to the dismay of the guy wearing the fancy uniform.
A few minutes later, some young guy in a beat up looking Chevy, pulled to the front curb and informed me he was an intern from the station. He would be my ride. He seemed excited to meet me and even had our songs blasting from the car. Maybe he assumed that would impress me. I got in the car and he introduced himself. He told me how happy he was to meet me because he too was a song writer and was in a local band. I tried to be polite and listen carefully, but I really would have preferred to be touring the Capitol with the others. We made a turn onto Constitution Avenue and as we did I spied the Reflecting Pool that looked amazing against the brilliant blue sky. The future song writer of the year was going on and on about something when I looked and saw a car speeding through a red light at Constitution Avenue and 17th Street. In a blink of an eye and I knew we had been hit.
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Chapter 17
The oncoming car blasted its way into my passenger door. We were pushed completely through the intersection. The car didn’t stop until we were wrapped around a pole on the other side of the intersection, with the car that hit us punctured into my door. I have no idea how I stayed awake for most of the ordeal, but I did. In mere seconds, I could hear the sirens heading in our direction. My driver was not talking at all. I tried to get him to speak, but I was so twisted around I could not see or hear him. All I saw was blood on the shattered windshield. I could not move and no longer felt the use of my legs or my arms. I could move my fingers, but I was so wedged in the car now, I was afraid to try and move. I started to think about my daughters, my wife, and if would ever see them again. I thought about the fact that I could not move. I was worried I was paralyzed. I then started to pray and ask for help and then forgiveness of my sins. I didn’t know what else to do until finally I heard someone trying to speak to me.
A deep voice asked if I could hear him. “Yes” I replied. “Don’t move” he says, as if I could. I could hear then what sounded like them trying to move the other car away from me. It seemed like hours to get that done, though I was told later they did it in a few minutes. All I could hear was the sound of them cutting me from the car. It seemed like an eternity. They finally reached me and then nothing. Total darkness consumed me.
I woke up more than two weeks later from a coma. When I awoke, Elise was sitting there along with my mother. I was having a hard time registering my eye sight, but I could make out enough to know it was them. I assumed I was in a hospital bed with the surrounding noises that were starting to register in my brain. I could not speak. It felt like I had something in my throat, but I was not sure. When I moved with the slightest motion I felt a surge of nurses and doctors start to hover over me. Someone started to ask me a series of questions and wanted me to squeeze their hand. I really wanted to be left alone at that moment, so I really don’t know how long that exercise continued. I still felt like I could not move but, I was terrified to ask if I was paralyzed. I started to think about why this could happen to me. My life was moving along so perfectly and now I was lying in a hospital bed wondering if I should ask if I was paralyzed. The doctor told me later, I already had several surgeries including one to stabilize my back, one to remove my spleen, stop all the internal bleeding as well to repair my broken pelvis. I was also told I had a broken left hand. My initial reaction to hearing about my broken hand hit me harder than the bad back. I could still be Dylan James with a bad back, but a smashed up left hand was close to being my worst nightmare for a guitar player.
As I was about to try and make a sound from my very sore throat, I felt someone or something hit the bottom of my foot, and asked if I could feel that. I was not positive, but it did feel like something was tapping the bottom of both of my feet. He then started to pinch and prod other parts of my body asking me more endless questions. All I wanted to do was to jump out of this bed and go back the mountains of North Carolina and hug my kids. The questions finally stopped. I was told that I had major damage to my back. The doctors had performed a laminectomy, to relieve pressure from my spinal cavity. I really didn’t want to hear more at that exact moment, but I heard him say it could be twelve months or more to heal completely. I had months of therapy ahead of me. I was advised to rest. More would be explained later, but I didn’t want to hear more. Elise sat next t me. I could hear her sobbing as she clutched the tips of my fingers on my right hand.
My head was spinning. I didn’t know if my voice was even intact or if I could still move at all. I did my best to utter a syllable or two when I heard Elise tell me to “Try not to speak.” I tried to move and I could hear her say “The doctors have you strapped in. You can’t move very much. You have been away from us for weeks, go slow. It will be another week at least before they will take the bindings off. Please for now, sleep. I will be here when you wake up.”
I think I was too confused or maybe too angry to sleep. I wanted so much to go back to a few short weeks ago and take that trip to the Capital building and not to the radio station. Then my thoughts passed to the young guy who picked me up. What could have happened to him? I tried to ask Elise, but my throat was too sore to get it all out. All I heard was “Sshhhh when you are ready, we will tell you all that has happened, but please my love, just rest.” Again my mind was racing with fear, then anger. I was still searching for answers as to why this could all happen to me.
I was told I slept for another twelve hours before waking up again. I knew that was not possible. Every few hours someone was taking my blood pressure, drawing blood, or taking my temperature. However by the next day, my mind seemed to be a bit more coherent. My eyes could see that I had tubes in both arms. I could feel that I was being held down somehow along my chest and legs. I tried to move again and was told this time by a nurse to lie still.
My first reaction was that I had done that long enough. It was time to get out of bed and head home. I thought I yelled, though I was barely being heard when I said “Let me up.” The nurse replied “The doctor is on his way “. When the doctor arrived he again started to play with my toes and feet, then my fingers, asking me more questions. I really was not in the mood to answer, but I did so he would stop prodding me. “You are a very lucky man Mr. James, we thought we had lost you several times” the doctor uttered. “You must be a fighter, because you suffered injuries many others would not have survived.” I was not feeling very lucky at that moment, only anger. This was an emotion I was not used to feeling, so much anger. He continued on “We have you strapped in for your own safety. Your back and pelvis need more time to heal from the surgeries. It should only be for another week, and we will start your therapy. For now relax and try not to move too much.” If I heard that word “relax” one more time, I was going to rip those straps from my body and leave the hospital.
I think it was the next day that my voice was strong enough for others to hear me. I asked El
ise about the kids and what happened since my accident. I was informed that the” Girls are in North Carolina with my parents and my mom and dad send their best.” My girls were told that “Daddy was out making music and would be home soon”. Elise went on “The driver of the car who hit you was fired the day before the accident and was drunk. He died at the scene”. My first reaction was “good, he got what he deserved.” She continued “Your driver Sam, he was thrown from the car and survived, but is still banged up.” I asked if I could see him, but he was already moved to a rehabilitation center. Elise told me that “Sam felt very guilty over the accident and they were treating him for depression as much as his physical injuries.” I asked her to write Sam a note from me to let him know that he was not to blame. I would see him as soon as it was possible. I knew he was not responsible.
I spent the next week or more lying still, except for the few times the nurses tried to give me a sponge bath. Nurse Kate was the main one taking care of me. I am sure I delivered some words I wished I could take back at times. I am also sure she was used to some of it, but I was playing the spoiled rock star. I watched television till I was too bored to think. The problem was that all I could do was to think. Why and what have I done to receive such unfair treatment from my God? I was not a perfect person by any means, but I tried to live a clean life. I stayed clear of drugs and alcohol. I never once cheated after I had married Elise, even if I could have most nights on tour. I gave back to the community in so many ways. I did my best to respect others. I constantly thought over and over why then am I being punished? Everyone around me kept telling me “How lucky you are to be alive.” No, lucky would be at home on the sofa learning the alphabet and watching Sesame Street with my daughters. Was I lucky? No, I was being punished and no one could convince me otherwise. I didn’t know why. I felt like I was in hell on earth for what that drunken bastard had done to me, my family and band mates.
A Beautiful Song: A Musical Soul Story Page 15