Bobby Rush - I Aint Studdin Ya: My American Blues Story

The sugarcane stalks were just starting to turn yellow in late September. I looked at the back of Daddys hands as he massaged the stalk. The contrast of his boot-black skin against the greenish-yellow leaf looked like the stark colors that I only saw on the shelves of the general store. Hm-mm, its just about dry enough, Junior, Daddy said. It wouldnt be another week before me and three of my brothers were out there cutting down the stalks with long-blade machetes.

This wouldnt be my first time chopping sugarcane. But when your mind is young, you put together things bit by bit. So I knew what the result of all this chopping would beand that was syrup. Sweet, dark, Louisiana syrup. During my childhood, soppin up that syrup with Maws hot homemade biscuits was heaven on earththe highlight of my day. Still, as much as I knew there was a purpose in this harvesting, I just wanted to be near Daddy.

My daddy was some kinda man, I tell ya. At around six foot two, he looked as tall as a tree to me. Good-looking, fit as a fiddle, black as midnight, tough as a bulldog, and yet a peaceful man. His entire demeanor commanded attention. A true bookworm, he read everything. Every day. All day. And yet he had only a third-grade education. With a daddy like mine, I dont carry one single note of the dark blues of not having a father. So fully present in my life, he is a large man in my memory, spirit, and heart.

A quiet but a serious man, he was everything to me. Despite his reserved style, my earliest memory of him is when hed grab me with his enormous hands, lift me up high to the ceiling, and set me down on his right knee. Hed then pop me up and down to the rhythm of his whistling. Man, could he toot. The tone of his whistle was pure as a flute, and his licks were as soulful as Junior Walkers saxophone. You could tell whatever song he was tootin because his melody was so accurate. He probably could whistle better than anybody I ever heard in my entire musical life.

But something happened to me the day Daddy pulled out of his pocket a dull silver harmonica. Whisking it back and forth against the fabric of his blue bib overalls, he put the shined harp in his mouth and started to play. On his rock-solid knee, my mouth hung wide open. I was astonished. I could do nothing more than to stare deeply into his brown eyes and listen to the greasy yet melodic sound coming out of the harmonica. In my childhood mind, it sounded like somebody was crying, but they werent sad. The slew of changing tones Daddy was producing with his mouth created pictures in my mind. One tone sounded like an old hound dog; another sounded like a trainit fascinated me. I watched how he gripped the harmonica. I watched how his cheeks quickly ballooned up with airand just as quickly drew small as he blew out. The mystical mixture of him rhythmically popping me up and down on his knee while I listened to the music coming out of that harpbecame my first groove.

My first groove. Its something when a groove hits you. You feel it in your bones. You feel in your hands. You feel in your butt. You feel it in your heart. Its primal. Its magnetic. Its pure. Its irresistible. Knowing that his sound captivated me, Daddy performed for me. And since he didnt joke or play around much, this was a special moment. His eyes lit up. He bopped his head slightly from side to side. Sensing my ever-increasing interest, he smiled. Still, this was not the moment that put me on the road to becoming a musician. But it was damn sure starting the car.

When youre from the Deep South, Black, and born right after the Depression, theres a language that comes with that. So when I say my daddy was an upright man, maybe only some old people from Louisiana or Mississippi would understand what Im talking about. Yeah, my daddy was upright in the traditional senseas in righteous and decent. It didnt hurt Daddys reputation that he was also a preacher. With that, it connected him to a tradition that was as old as time, and it showed through his actions of kindness and counsel to others.