The last place we played in June was Cole Camp. As we packed up our instruments, Jimmy said he felt better that day because the room was cool. I suggested that he sing “Independence Day” in July. As we exited the building, I said I would see him at practice.
Sometimes life plays tricks on us. I never knew that my casual goodbye would be the last time I would see my brother. A week from the day the Capps Family Band played at Cole Camp, Kathy, their grandson Connor, my sister Roberta, and I were planning his funeral.
Last night, I was watching the Daniel O’Donnell show and he began to sing “You Were Always on My Mind.” I turned it off and went into a complete meltdown. A few months ago, Jimmy was in the hospital in Columbia. We were talking on the phone, and he wanted to know if I’d been working on any new songs. I named off a few of them, and he wanted me to pick up my ukulele and try that one. I started playing it and he stopped me. He suggested I try a different key. I started again and when I got to the bridge, he told me my timing was off. So he had me start over, and finally, about the fifth time through he let me finish. “You have that one,” he said.
During, our normal practice sessions Jimmy would concentrate on one song at a time. One time, he told me the song I was singing needed to be sung as if I was singing to a child. Another time, he told me I needed to put some sass into a song I was learning. Both times, he gave advice that improved the performance.
He encouraged everyone in the family band to sing. He had full confidence that with practice and the right key, anyone could sing. He was always satisfied when we did our best, even when it wasn’t perfect. The rule was that you kept on singing even when you made a mistake because often the audience wouldn’t even know you had made it.
The best part of our practice sessions was spending time with family. When I first started with the band, we were a large group. Due to health reasons and other life circumstances, most of the time the band was Jimmy, Kathy, and me. The three of us each played an instrument and took turns singing. Music was so important to Jimmy that he powered through health problems that would have had most people housebound.
Today, I ignored everything on my to-do list to practice the guitar until my fingers were sore. My fingers felt clumsy as they reached for the basic chords, and I struggled to change chords smoothly. When I started to feel discouraged, I remembered that I had the same problems when I first started playing the ukulele.
After I finished with the guitar, I picked up my ukulele. I played some of the new songs I’ve been working on, and started through the songs on my list in our family band songbook.
Several people have asked if the Capps Family Band would continue. Jimmy was our fearless leader and the heart and soul of the band. It’s hard to imagine the band without him, but if our family can eventually get it together, it would be his legacy.
I love to play music and sing and that is totally Jimmy’s fault. I will miss him as a brother, mentor, fellow writer, and as a friend. I will miss his mischievous sense of humor. I will cherish the good times, the fun times, and the love he had for his family.
My heart aches for my mom, Kathy, his grandkids, my brothers and sisters, and his friends. My heart hurts for the people in the nursing/retirement facilities that were so happy to see Jimmy after his long hospitalization.
Today, I pulled up some of Jimmy’s stories that I saved on my PC. It felt good to laugh at his words. I always laugh at the “Donnie and Me” video. I am thankful for the videos Jimmy made and the gift of music he left us.
Copyright ©June 2025 by L. S. Fisher
http://earlyonset.blogspot.com
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