Ford
Ford was only seven when I was first diagnosed with cancer. At the time he was still involved with sports–soccer, basketball, baseball. But soon after the bad news came our way, Ford picked up a guitar. After that, sports were done. He never looked back.
I’m not saying my illness had anything to do with Ford’s decision to choose music over muscle. But I’m not saying it didn’t either. Ford is a creative soul, that’s for sure, and cancer had little to do with that. But adversity can surely take creativity on great new adventures, and Ford has seen more adversity than most kids I know.
When he was only eight or nine, Ford formed the band Refuje. He began writing songs for the band soon afterward, and he sang and played guitar too. The band often surprised people by their mature sound. Thinking they were hearing a college band, strangers would stop and ask, “How old are those kids?” “Ten,” we’d say, or “eleven,” while watching their jaws drop.
Refuje was together for five years, longer than most bands, and it was an incredible ride. Ford and his three bandmates played some of the state’s best gigs: Dfest, Opening Night, Toby Keith’s, The Opolis, Festival of the Arts, the Norman Music Festival, Midsummer Night’s Fair, etc. They shared the stage with some great bands, and they were on t.v. and radio numerous times. At the peak of their popularity, they were averaging a gig a week and were flown to Hollywood to audition for The Next Great American Band television show. (Thankfully, they didn’t make the show.)
Ever wonder why so many bands break up? There’s a good reason: it’s incredibly hard to keep a band together, something like maintaining four simultaneous marriages. Refuje finally gave up the ghost in July of 2008.
Since that time, Ford has recorded “If I Leave,” his own solo EP (six songs) at Bell Labs Recording Studio in Norman. He had an amazing group of musicians join him on that project, including Allan Vest of the Starlight Mints, Matt Duckworth of Stardeath and White Dwarfs, Dave Spindle of the Rounders, and Trent Bell of the Chainsaw Kittens. Ford wrote the songs, sang the lead vocals, and played guitar on the record, which has been praised by music critics from the Fort Worth Star Telegram, The Oklahoma Gazette, and The Norman Transcript.
These are amazing accomplishments for someone who has yet to turn fifteen. But I think I’m even more amazed at what Ford has done in the last three months, in the time after we were told that I am a terminal case and that there is little or no hope for recovery.
My family was still in a state of shock over that news, which hit in October 2008, when Ford disappeared into his room. This is not uncommon, because Ford requires more than his share of alone time. He heads off regularly to his bedroom to write songs. Writing music seems to be his way of processing life, just as writing poetry is mine.
But on this particular occasion, Ford was “missing from us” for longer than usual–several days in fact. We’d hear him in his room or upstairs strumming the guitar, banging the drums, trying out a new bass line, singing. This is good, I thought. He’s working through these trying times.
On the third day, when I returned home from who knows where, Ford met me at the door. He was a bit perkier than he had been lately, anxious to let me in on some big news.
“Dad,” he said. “I’ve been working on some new songs.”
“Oh really?” I said, as if this was new information.
“Yeah. I’m in a really good writing groove right now. Anyway, I’ve recorded the new ones, and I’ve been working real hard on the mixes.”
Whenever Ford writes a new song (at least one he likes), he immediately records it and saves it to his computer. The recordings used to be guitar and vocals only, but lately he’d been using his computer to do full mixes of some of his favorites. The songs would include backing vocals, a cool bass line, a catchy drum beat, and at times, keyboards, harmonica, synthesizer, or tambourine. Mixing (that is, blending the vocals and instruments so they sound the best) is difficult work, but Ford had been getting better at it lately.
“After that, I put the new songs and a few of my best mixes of other songs and burned them on to a CD, seven altogether. Want to go here them?”
“Sure,” I said. This is our favorite and most regular father/son activity. Ford records a new song, burns it onto a CD, then we grab a Pepsi and drive around town, listening to his latest creation. I’m always amazed when I hear the birth of a new song.
As I listened to Ford’s first homemade CD, which he calls “Night Mumbling,” I had to fight to keep myself composed. Many of the songs had lyrics, a line or two here or there, that were clearly about our family’s crappy situation. (”forget all of my troubles now,” “one by one you know we’re gonna die,” “the things I feel inside won’t go away.”) Overall, the songs weren’t “about me.” Rather, they were about living a stressful, complicated life, which for Ford includes having a very sick father.
The songs were catchy. The lyrics were good. The instruments, which were all performed by Ford, sounded great. And the mixes were much better than Ford have ever done before. I told him I loved it.
“I was thinking… maybe I could get some blank CD sleeves and markers and make a cover and back for the CD. Then I could sell ‘em for something like, uh, five bucks. What do you think?”
“Sounds like a great idea to me,” I said.
“Do you think you could sell any?” he asked.
“Probably,” I said. “I know I’d buy one.”
Ford and LeAnn went that night and bought all the supplies, and by morning I had the first three copies of “Night Mumbling” in my hand. Each had been elaborately decorated with Ford’s own artwork. It took him about thirty minutes to create each one. I headed off to work that day, promising Ford I would do my best to sell the CDs.
I met with two friends that day, and each of them asked me if there was anything they could do for my family.
“Yes,” I said. “How would you like to make a young boy happy?”
I proceeded to tell them the story of how Ford had thrown positive energy at our family’s grief by using his pain to create a brand new CD. I told them how much work he’d put into it, not the least of which was the art he’d painstakingly drawn by hand.
One of my friends bought four copies. The other bought two.
“What should we do with it?” they asked.
“Listen to it, or pass it along to someone you know who likes indie rock. Or you might just put one in the safety box, because if Ford ever ‘makes it’ in music, these will be worth a fortune.”
When I got home that night, Ford happened to be out front, taking out the trash as per his mother’s directive. His demeanor was noticeably sulky, as if he had a black cloud overhead, following him everywhere.
“Hey, I sold six CDs today,” I announced.
“Cool,” he said in a rather unimpressed way. He thought I was talking about his studio EP, “If I Leave,” not his new creation. (Proceeds from his studio EP went into the bank to pay LeAnn and I back for the money we’d sunk into that project. So Ford rarely got excited about those sales.)
“Did you sell any copies of my homemade CD?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said. “Six.” Then I handed him thirty bucks.
He seemed confused. “But I only gave you three,” he reminded me.
“Yes,” I said. ”So you need to go make me three more right away.”
At that moment a smile broke across Ford’s face that I’ll never forget. It was a smile that seemed much lighter than his normal smile, as though some heavy burden had been lifted from his shoulders. It was the smile of an artist, one who suddenly realizes that his hard work might actually payoff or that someone out there believes he has something worthwhile to offer.
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Comments
Jim,
Thanks for the portrait of Ford. I remember years ago watching him one night in a machine-pitch baseball game at Griffin. For some reason, the machine went wacky, and Ford, probably only 9 at the time, got hit not once, but twice, by a pitch. You could tell it hurt. But when he finally got a pitch to hit, he drilled it. That revealed a lot about what he has inside.
Jim,
Thank you for sharing your family with all of us. As I child, I lost my mother to cancer at a young age. The words you have written will create memories your children will cherish for the rest of their lives. What a wonderful gift for them.