MONDAY THOUGHTS: HIGHS AND LOWS

Life is something. After the high of my daughter's commencement ceremony yesterday at Georgetown, sad news came this afternoon. These days, news of someone's death is taken lightly, until confirmed by a reliable source. I was hoping the news was another unfortunate misunderstanding; a tacky mistake, but it wasn't. 

First, my sister called; then Lucy; then Herman; then Robyn. 

I logged on to Facebook, and read one condolence message after another, speaking of shock and sadness, and promising prayer.

It was just like him to joke in his Facebook status on Saturday, "Lawd have mercy....Yall still here? Is dis de end?" 

It made me remember lines from one of his original songs, "You've got to work out your soul salvation. You've got to get it together for yourself...Get yourself together. Do it soon. Get yourself together- don't wait..."

In the 70's and 80's, he brought drums, guitars, and fantastic singers and musicians to Bethlehem Baptist Church, courtesy of the music departments of the city's Churches of God In Christ. 

He'd invite Dale Talbert and the Dimensionals, Kenny Spears, Tony Scales, Tim Linzy, Charlene Nelson, Danny McCrimmon, Pat Barnes and others. 

Clad in Super Fly-esque suits, and sporting a wild Afro, he brought contemporary gospel, and original music to the very traditional church on Howard Road. 

You could hear his foot stomping all the way down in the Maggie Brown Auditorium, as he tested the strength and endurance of the keys on the church's new grand piano.

He was an integral part of DC's pre-Bobby Jones gospel music television programming, as musical director of "Spread A Little Sunshine". 

It was nothing for him to play piano off camera, if a guest or group was missing a musician.

He was one of the few musicians I've ever known who always had (and kept) a good job, his own house, and car, and didn't depend solely upon a position at a church, or random gigs to support himself and his family. 

When he decided to record a musical project, it wasn't a matter of economics, or a desire for notoriety. 

He did it because he just wanted to.

In Young Adult Choir rehearsal one night in 1975, he wouldn't stop playing those chords until I started singing. 

I kept shaking my head, "No". 

I had never sung a solo, and liked it that way. 

I was hoping he'd just give up, and move on to the next choir member. I was about 15 years old, and really scared. He kept saying, "Come on. You can do it", so I just closed my eyes, tried to channel my inner Tramaine Hawkins, and have been singing ever since--with my eyes closed.

He was recently in the audience at Blues Alley. He loved music, and encouraged so many to love it as well.

Rest in peace, Crevante Anthony Proctor, Sr.
My condolences to his son, Crevante, of whom he was extremely proud, his family, friends and the New Bethany Baptist Church congregation and music department.