My musical life can be summed up in two words: Bee Gees.
I have a very clear, very distinct memory of sitting in an elementary school swing singing "I Started A Joke." I've known, listened to and been crazy for their music for that long.
Initially, Maurice was my favorite.
He was cute, naturally, but also really funny. I would, shallowly, decide which Bee Gees' album I wanted to buy by which cover Maurice looked best on.
Then, hormones kicked in, and, BAM, all my love went to Barry.
Still thought Maurice was a doll, but, hey. . .
I'm afraid I sort of took Robin for granted. Yes, his was the voice of that first song I remember singing, and he was Maurice's twin, but, well, someone in a group of three is going to come in third.
Maurice, heartbreakingly, died in 2003. I cried on and off for days. For over a week, Robin has been gravely ill after battling back from colon and liver cancer. Barry, apparently, has been at his bedside singing to him.
There is no adequate description of what the Bee Gees have meant, mean, and will continue to mean, to me. My children were raised on them. Robin is one of my son's all-time favorite singers. I have been so sad these last days, thinking that we might be losing Robin, too. My heart has ached for Barry. And yet, their music helps me through. Like it has for nearly all my life.
Thank you, Brothers Gibb.