There is a season … turn, turn, turn

Autumn rolled in a little over two weeks ago.

I think of change when autumn comes to pass.

Then I remember a song of change, "Turn, Turn, Turn," a song written by Pete Seeger and given the folk-rock treatment by the folk-rock band, The Byrds.

If you don't know the lyrics to "Turn, Turn, Turn" it's pretty simple ... they’re in “The Good Book,” in the book of Ecclesiastes .. .chapter 3, verses 1 through 8:

"There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens:

“A time to be born and a time to die,

“A time to plant and a time to uproot,

“A time to kill and a time to heal…” and so on.

Seeger set the Bible verse to music. A few years later The Byrds grabbed it and ran with it all the way to the top of the charts in December 1965 when my big sister was in high school.

I was just a kid.

I wasn't even 10 yet.

All I knew about "Turn, Turn, Turn" was that it was a song on the radio.

Big Sis had the 45 rpm record and was playing it on the family hi-fi stereo one evening when my dad came home from work.

"GET THAT CRAP OFF MY STEREO," he bellowed.

Let me introduce you to my dad.

My dad had the kind of mid-20th century job where he wore a well-pressed three-piece suit and tie daily.

Upon coming home he’d change into some relaxing clothes, settle into an easy chair and watch the evening news whilst enjoying a martini.

But this night things were different.

My father, who I considered “King of the House” because he was always yelling and making pronouncements on stuff, was bellowing.

When Dad bellowed I got out of the way the way critters scatter.

"GET THAT CRAP OFF MY STEREO,” he repeated.

Big Sis came running in from her room and stood right in front of Dad with her arms crossed.

I peeked from behind the sofa.

"I SAID GET THAT CRAP OFF MY STEREO," he said, jabbing his index finger in the direction of the hi-fi.

"I'm listening to it," said Big Sis. "I'll turn it down."

And she did.

"THAT MUSIC IS PURE CRAP," he bellowed some more. "AND I'LL NOT HAVE ANTI-WAR, ANTI-AMERICAN, SACRILEGIOUS MUSIC PLAYED IN MY HOME."

"How is this anti-American?" my sister asked.

I watched in amazement.

I didn't know anyone could talk back to the King of the House.

"Besides," she went on, "The lyrics are straight from the book of Ecclesiastes in The Old Testament."

"THAT'S SACRILEGIOUS," my father bellowed.

"Why is this sacrilegious?" asked Big Sis.

"BECAUSE IT IS," said Dad.

And with a wave of his hand to signify he was done talking he turned, walked down the hall to the master bedroom and slammed the door.

The song ended.

Big Sis walked over and turned off the stereo and went back to her room.

If I were a few years older I would have patted her on the back and said, "DANG! I didn't know talking back was allowed!"

But I was just a kid.

All I knew was that my sister had talked back to Dad.

That was an amazing thing to me.

Grant McGee writes for The Eastern New Mexico News. Contact him:

[email protected]