Share this
Twitter
Myspace
Digg
Del.icio.us
Reddit
Slashdot
Furl
Yahoo
Technorati
Newsvine
Facebook
Export PDF
Print
E-mail
TagsA fond farewell to the wild-child of Peter, Paul and Mary
BY SALLY FRIEDMAN
NEWJERSEYNEWSROOM.COM
The last time I saw Mary Travers, her hair was shorn, her gait was labored, and her spirit was totally intact. It was at a Peter, Paul and Mary Concert at Philadelphia's Kimmel Center a couple of years ago.
On that night, Peter came out first. He was older, a bit more bald, but still jaunty. Next came tall, handsome Paul, grinning from ear to ear, and leading dear Mary. It was very clear that Mary really needed that help.
Blonde, wild-child Mary was so frail physically that it was initially shocking just to see her. She'd been through a grave bout with cancer that had caused the trio to postpone two Philadelphia concerts.
But this time, Mary had made it. There was so much emotion as we watched her walk slowly onto the Kimmel stage that almost as if by unseen signal, we audience members rose as one to welcome her back where she belonged – with us.That night, Peter, Paul and Mary were not just performers. They were a part of us, a part of our youth, marvelous icons of the way we were decades ago.
What seemed to unite us was our collective nostalgia. Standing there cheering for Mary, we were also cheering for the gift of memory, for hope, and for her grit in getting back to the stage, a triumph of body and spirit.
Mary Travers was as much a part of our halcyon days as peace marches and protests and yes, those other guys, The Beatles. And while Mary couldn't reclaim those times any more than we could, the songs that were enclosed within those years will always carry us back.
On that night in Philadelphia, we diehard fans felt that same explosive joy we always have when those three voices co-mingled. The cheers never stopped coming as our "folkies" delivered what they always have: songs of love, songs of protest, songs about loss and about a world threatening to blow itself into smithereens.
We didn't have to wait long for "Puff," that dragon I sang about to my kids, and now to my grandkids. Or for "Jet Plane," which always somehow makes me cry.
Then we were all singing along with "If I Had a Hammer," and doing our best to keep the spirit of "Blowin' In the Wind." But not until we joined voices in "This Land Is My Land" was the love-fest complete. Without that one, it just wouldn't have been the same.
It was a marvelous concert, a triumphant night. When it was all over – when we finally let Peter, Paul & Mary leave the stage – I had this strange sense that everyone in the audience somehow looked a little younger.
And I'm not at all sure it was just because of the dim light.
So I wept when I thought of that night after the news flashed across my computer screen that Mary had died. Her long battle with cancer - with surgeries, chemotherapy and a bone marrow transplant — finally over.
And so was an era.
Sally Friedman is a graduate of the University of Pennsylvania, resident of Moorestown, and longtime contributor to local, regional and national publications. The mother of three has seven grandchildren and is the wife of retired New Jersey Superior Court Judge Victor Friedman. She can be reached at This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it .