Family Ties: Me, Mom, and Marvin

Sometimes it’s fun to see what we ran exactly a year or more ago, especially when the Friday Flashback piece you’d intended to run from not exactly any particular interval of time ago now contains a bunch of terrible videos that have been pulled for copyright reasons. If you’re interested in reheating an old discussion on Sparks, be my guest. It’s in the archives somewhere. Meanwhile, it’s now been 27 years since Marvin Gaye was shot by his father. I still wish it was an April Fool’s prank. Ah, Marvin was a mess and probably wouldn’t have lived until today anyhow, but still, it’s as good a time as any to appreciate what he gave.

This post initially appeared 4/2/09.

I’m glad I read something that wasn’t an attempt at an April Fool’s joke before this day ends: it was 25 years ago today, on April 1, 1984, that Marvin Gaye was shot and killed by his father. I was living at home at that time, in a total dream/funk, sloshing my way half-heartedly through school and whole-heartedly through the effort to be a real musician and somewhat adjusted young man (I was far off from either of those goals at that time in my life).

My Mom woke me up to the news before she left for work. “Jimmy,” as she still calls me, “there’s something terrible you should know.” She could empathize with me, a few years earlier, when John Lennon was shot, but Lennon was an artist she only partially grasped. Marvin Gaye was a musician we listened to together while growing up. He spoke to us even during our worst times as mother and son.


We used to have dinner with my grandparents every Sunday. She had to have dinner with them every Sunday. That’s what nice Italian girls were supposed to do. My brother was living with them at the time. My family life was volatile, with any combination of family members walking that fine line between love and hate. A great family meal with a free flow of biting jokes could easily turn into a series of mind games and accusations. Lots of yelling and crying would follow.

The drive home often started with jaws clenched and curses muttered. I’d try to talk my Mom through her latest bout of depression, and we’d inevitably tune the radio to one of the Sunday night oldies shows. I can’t recall if the show we counted on to lift our spirits was hosted by Harvey Holiday or Joe “Butterball” Tamburro, but God bless that DJ! The music of Jerry Butler, Shep and the Limelites, and The Supremes would soften the mood, allow for more than anger to be exposed to the elements. Then, just when one or both of us got over feeling like life completely sucked a Marvin Gaye song would come on and provide hope and fire. Although Gaye sang like he was just coming out of his own funk, he always had something up his sleeve, something he couldn’t wait to share. He sounded more like he was coming down from the mountaintop than merely getting his feet back on the ground. I always got the same rush from John Lennon’s best music, both with The Beatles and solo.

I don’t know about you, but there are certain musical moments I treasure with certain family members, moments that brought us together and bridged all gaps, if only for the few minutes’ duration of a cool single. The music of Marvin Gaye will forever be linked to the hope and fire needed to get through some trying family dinners.