When I was a kid growing up in Arkansas in the early '60s, the blues -- perhaps more than anything else -- was a plaintive salve for the open sores of racism that was our everyday life.
From house to house, from jukebox to jukebox, the mournful tales of being done wrong by bad women and bad whiskey were a staple in my community -- the African-American community.
But more importantly, the blues were metaphorical. They summed up in just a few clever lyrics all that was wrong with the world and then grabbed it by the throat and choked all the ugliness out of it. In a very real sense, we didn't need counseling as long as we had the blues -- and the church.
No one wrote, sang and played the part of the cathartic oracle better than B.B. King. For us, he was the face of the blues in the Southern experience and your record collection was incomplete without his music.
The "Blues Boy from Beale Street," who actually was from Mississippi, could weave a story so sad that you had no choice but to feel better when he was done. The thinking was, "At least my life ain't that bad." Or something along those lines.
You see, Riley B. King was more than just a brilliant singer and musician; B.B. was part of the community. He wasn't singing to us. He was singing with us.
When he talked about his "Sweet Little Angel," we knew exactly what he was talking about. Or when he sang about "The Thrill is Gone," well, there wasn't a man or a woman alive who couldn't relate to unrequited love.
But among all the gloom and doom, B.B. also could be a humorist. Check out the lyrics from "How Blue Can You Get":
"I gave you a brand-new Ford
But you said, 'I want a Cadillac'
I bought you a $10 dinner
And you said, 'Thanks for the snack'
I let you live in my penthouse
You said, 'It was just a shack'
I gave you seven children
And now you wanna give 'em back
'Cause I've been downhearted, baby
Ever since the day we met
I said, our love is nothing but the blues
Baby, how blue can you get?"
Painful but hilarious. If that doesn't make you smile, or better yet, laugh out loud, then I don't know what will.
I know it's cliché, but over the years, B.B. really did become larger than life -- as in, he was the first hard-core blues star to cross over to mainstream music. His language of love and sorrow, as metaphor, rang true with all people -- not just black ones. He truly was the Ambassador of the Blues.
I remember watching a clip of B.B. performing in Japan and the crowd literally went wild every time he opened his mouth or bent a string on his sweet Lucille. They, like us, got it, too.
As is the case of any giant, we thought Mr. King would go on forever. But the past 20 years brought with it major health issues, namely his battle with diabetes. He fought that like a champion, too, and even fessed up from time to time when his performances suffered because of his health.
Can you imagine that? A star like B.B. admitting that he let the audience down and that he would do better. Classy guy, that B.B. King.
Since early this morning, when I heard he had passed, I've been going through my record collection to see how much B.B. King I have in the house. I've got a lot, but not all of his stuff. Man, he was prolific.
From movie soundtracks to his classic collaborations with the great Bobby "Blue" Bland and Eric Clapton, Mr. King has left behind an impressive body of work. If you're wondering, "Live at the Regal," "Live and Well," "Live at the Cook County Jail" and "Live at the Apollo" are classics that you ought to have.
Today, I guess all of us have a little bit of the blues in wake of his passing. But he was suffering and now he's moved on to better things.
I'd like to thank you, Mr. King, for many, many years of outstanding music. And for being a great role model for many of us.
I'll leave you with some lyrics from one of my favorites by the King of the Blues, "I Like to Live the Love":
"My song is a serious matter
It reflects what I feel
If I say I love you, I mean it
'Cause in my song every line is for real ...
I like to live the love that I sing about
In my song"
And for that, Mr. King, we are grateful.
Lee Ivory is a native of Hot Springs. He is the former executive editor and publisher of USA TODAY Sports Weekly. He currently teaches journalism at American University in Washington, D.C.
Editorial on 05/19/2015