BUTCH, IF ONLY.

Wednesday is here. It surrounds me in the dark outside my door. It is also snowing. I cannot say I am thrilled. I opened the door about five. "I" stood at my side. She did not go out. She looked at me as if to say, "Not again." She hung her head and went back to bed. I stood there a moment, the icy wind biting at my face. Shaking my head I said, "No not again." But I didn't go back to bed.

I would like to tell you about the young man who graces the top of the page. Leon Evan Eugene Doty. Better known to family and friends as Butch.He was born January 14th 1956 to his Mother Nancy who was only a child herself. She was only fifteen when he was born. They grew up together. When Ashley put this old picture on Facebook the other day, I just said, Awww. Memories came flooding back of him as this smiling little fella. Butch when you left this world a talented young man's light was forever dimmed. I look at the lost years and say. If only, if only.

The last time I saw Butch was at his Mother's not long after Jeremy's birth. Jer was only a couple of weeks old. The first thing Butch said after everyone looked over the baby was. "Come listen to this new song I learned" and he played "Autumn Leaves." It sounded beautiful', flawless. His earnest face bent over the keys, his fingers flying. He made the song come to life. The amazing part was he never had a lesson. The music, the talent lay in him. And at a young age it found its way out. He played more than one instrument. His serious face, his smile, his talent. All made up Leon Evan Eugene, known lovingly as Butch.

His story should have a happy ending. I would love to write a tale for you. Tell you how his talent was discovered, how his life played out easy and sweet. That sadly is not how his story ended but it should have been.

On February 18th 1977 at he age of twenty-one he stepped from this world as we know it. His music stilled, his gentle smile frozen forever in our hearts and minds. A loss, a heartache etched into his Mother life. The pain at times to much to bear. Why with all the talent, all the sweetness in his nature, was there a sadness that tugged at his soul? We that cared will never know. A troubling place inside him that one day took him away.

I wondered as I looked at his picture on Facebook what kind of a man he would have become? Had he only been given the chance. Would he have played the piano at a Piano bar. Maybe the lazy blues. Would he have tried out for America's Got Talent? Or maybe played at church while his Mother sang? The questions that will never be answered.

But somewhere he plays. Call me silly, call me corny. But the soul never dies and somewhere the soul and Spirit of Leon Evan Eugene Doty lives on. Play my young friend, someday your Mother and I will hear you again. Maybe accompanied by your Uncle Frankie on the Sax. Your place here in this world will never be filled. Play on.

The snow is piled up here in Blogland too and its snowing again. As I toss my words into the darkness they mingle with the snow. I wanted to write a tribute to Butch. Somehow I feel my words failed. But upward past the vastness of Bloglang land, high, high beyond the skies. I know he sees me and he smiles. Because you see he knows I tried. With the past echos of his music ringing in my ears, I head for home. I'm outta here.