Remembering The Day The Music Died

He died before I was born, but Buddy Holly's music has been part of the soundtrack of my life, just like it has been part of so many people's lives for generations.

When Holly, Ritchie Valens and the J.P. "The Big Bopper" Richardson were killed in a plane crash on Feb. 3, 1959, it became known as The Day the Music Died.

Of course music lived on, as did the music of Holly, Valens, and even The Big Bopper. But losing those talented people at the peak of their creativity and fame must have been a crushing blow to their fans.

The day the music died for me came more than 30 years later, on Aug. 27, 1990 when Stevie Ray Vaughan died under similar circumstances, in a helicopter crash following a concert. My roommate at my first newspaper job had introduced me to Vaughan's music less than a year before. His blues-infused guitar captivated me. And just after I found it, found him, he was gone. And I felt an emptiness and loss as sure as if a friend or family member had died.

I still love and listen to Vaughan's music. It still moves me. But there is no sense of sadness when I listen to the energy and power of Vaughan's distinctive sound. I feel happy. It makes me feel energized.

I can't help but wonder what more Vaughan could have done musically if he had lived. But his music lives on. As does the music of Buddy Holly, who was only 22 when he died. So much music lost.

I bought some Buddy Holly music today. It was an obvious gap in my music library. Rest easy Mr. Holly, you and your music did "Not Fade Away".

And in spite of Don McLean's iconic tribute, "American Pie," that day 50 years ago was not The Day the Music Died. It was a day a generation -- several generations -- learned to love and appreciate the music and all those who made it and left the stage far too soon.