As a kid, growing up in Jackson, Mississippi was a wonderful time for me. I had a normal childhood in a middle-class family. Both of my parents were musicians. My father was also a school band teacher, and my mom worked in a music store. Their salaries were minimal; but my brother Billy and I had everything we needed or wanted as we were growing up. We lived in a two-bedroom bungalow on a street with neighbours that we loved. The neighbourhood was safe. Our doors were never locked. We were not living where the “well-to-do” folks lived, so we didn’t really have anything to steal, lol!
Several years ago, before the pandemic, I drove down to Jackson to see my mom and visit the old neighbourhood. There was yellow tape all around our old house, as a murder had been committed there. Since then, no one wanted to live in what became a gang-infested neighbourhood. So much had unfortunately changed.
Billy and I grew up immersed in music. Our parents made sure we had proper musical instruction in case either of us wanted to have a career in music. We were loved by our parents, and we loved each other. As children, we would sing and perform together in school plays. It was such a happy time.
Billy was so talented. He had a great voice and played rhythm guitar like only he could. We wrote songs and sang together on many recordings during our careers. Our voices blended as one.
But as an adult, my brother was sadly not a healthy man, and he passed away in January 2022. It was during Covid, and at that time, we were not allowed to visit our families in hospital. I don’t care what anyone says or thinks – putting restrictions like that on family members of people that were sick and dying was a shameful and an unnecessary act. That is something I will never forget – I could not be at my brother’s bedside as he was passing.
To make things worse, the nurse told me that he was calling out my name moments before he took his last breath. I rarely talk about politics or give my opinions on it publicly one way or the other, but I will never forgive the government for the heartless restrictions that were put on those who went through that kind of family devastation.
Long before that, I was in Europe and recording the album Grits and Cornbread with Peter Frampton. Missing my brother, I wrote this song:
Billy
Was it yesterday when me and Billy played
In the snow outside the house,
On the street we used to call our home?
Was it long ago, when he said his first hello
And I held him tightly in my tiny arms?
Now I look back and I wish I was a young girl,
With my long pigtails and sitting in the backyard with my brother that I love.
Has it been so long, Has it been so long?
Has it been so long since we held each other strong,
And we cried all through the night
When we lost our little puppy to the Lord?
Billy was so small and then he grew so tall
All the years between, They seem so far away.
And now I look back and I wish I was a young girl,
With my long pigtails and sitting in the backyard
With my brother that I love
Has it been so long, Has it been so long?
Then I went away, he was 12 years old that day.
I remember salty tears that trickled down his sad and freckled face.
I was seventeen and my whole world was a dream.
Maybe then I should have stopped and looked ahead.
So now I look back and I wish I was a young girl,
With my long pigtails and sitting in the backyard with my brother that I love.
Has it been so long, Has it been so long?
I miss you, Billy Boy. RIP.