The Taste of Freedom WC 365

The Taste of Freedom
WC 365 (not 265)

The song, American Pie, was written as a commentary on America. It was not actually about Buddy Holly. His death was the catalyst for the song. This story is a projection of that theme.


“What was rock and roll, Mommy?” the little boy asked.

“Music that is no longer allowed. We do not talk about it," the old lady whispered.

“What was freedom, Mommy?”

“Shush! Keep your voice down.”

“What was it?” he whispered.

“We could taste it. And it smelled like Heaven. Freedom is hard to describe, but we did not appreciate it until it was gone.”

“When were we free, Mommy?"

A long, long time ago, honey. Before you were born.”

The little boy had lost both of his parents in a raid when he was a baby. She had taken him under her wing and was the only mother the little boy had ever known.

The old lady brushed away a tear before he could see it; she thought back to that day the world stopped. Bombs had fallen from the sky like hailstones. Flames climbed high, engulfing everything the People had cherished. When smoking embers were all that was left, the stormtroopers went door to door of the homes that were still standing, and they —

"Mommy", the young boy said as he tapped on her hand. "Mommy!”

“Oh, sorry, honey. What were you saying?"

"If we were free, we could keep walking, right?”

“Keep walking when?” The old lady was puzzled.

“When Master Jeff says, 'If you take one more step, I’ll shoot!'”

Master Jeff was their keeper; he checked on the old lady and the little boy day and night. They were not allowed to leave their designated area.

“No, no, sweetheart, you must always obey Master Jeff. Do you understand?”

“No!”

“We are not free to do as we choose. We must obey.”

"I wanna be lost in space or in the middle of the ocean!” the little boy said.

“Please keep your voice down. We do not want trouble."

“I wanna be anywhere but here,” he whispered.

“If you left, I would never see you again.”

“I mean we would go. Somewhere far away and free.”

As the little boy spoke, the old lady remembered how things used to be. She could almost taste the freedom. When she breathed in, the sweet perfume was intoxicating.

One day. I pray. One day, soon.