Marshall Ramsey

Banjo the dog took his last breath two years ago.  But Sunday afternoon, I saw his spirit live on.

The Black Rose Youth Theatre Ensemble (BRYTE) at Black Rose Theatre Company in Brandon, Miss. performed Banjo’s Dream, a one-act musical based on my children’s book by the same name.  As the lights dimmed, my wife Amy handed me a Kleenex. After I saw Sam the Grumpy cat take the stage, I knew I would need it.

Seeing pieces of your heart come to life is very emotional.

A few months ago, my friend Shawn Rossi asked me if I would be open to BRYTE adapting Banjo’s Dream into a musical.  I never hesitated — “Sure,” I said. I just had a feeling something special would come of this.

And I was right.  Banjo’s Dream  is absolutely wonderful.

It’s set in a pet adoption shelter (a deviation from the real Banjo’s story — he lived with three families but was placed by his breeder). The cute puppies get adopted early on. But not Banjo. Or Sam the Grumpy Cat (who in real life was rescued from a box at a The Woodlands, Tx Exxon) or the members of the Barkstreet Dog Band (the unadoptables who don’t need no stinkin’ leashes.) Banjo, left alone, (played well by Garret Ramsey) sings mournfully how he’ll never have a home. He then falls into a dream-filled sleep.  That’s when the fun really begin.  Banjo’s dreams are creatively projected onto a screen using a combination of  shadow puppetry and drawings from my book.

But like Banjo showed kids in the book, dreams do come true.  He finds a little boy who wants a dog who will love music like he does.  And at the end, Banjo is adopted by his loving family.

Then a picture of the real Banjo is projected onto the screen (with my son’s Mickey Mouse.)

My wife Amy and I lost it.

Like the stage Banjo, the real dog loved all of his families.  I always said his heart was too big to just love one family.  We were so blessed to have him in ours until the end.

But it really isn’t the end.  Banjo lives on in our hearts. And in the hearts of so many children.

A hat-tip to Dixie Gray, Makenna Blough, Lori McDade, Stacy Wolfe, Abbie Macoy, Jamie Macoy, Renee Williams, Noelle Jones, Shawn Rossi, Leigh Ramsey, Stirling VanNostrand, Paris Baker, Victoria Mills, Carley Hill, Jameson Williams, Garrett Ramsey, Mary Rose Wolfe, Mason Smith, Gray Macoy, Quentin Lea, Lily Blough, Avery DeMuth, Sawyer Smith, Simon Smith, Daleigh Ramsey, Eli Ramsey, Maddie Macoy, Jameson Williams, April Smith and Chris Mills for your creativity and hard work.  You created a rich, emotionally moving piece of art. And I can tell Banjo’s spirit flowed through you when you wrote, produced and performed it.

So let me say thank you. You gave me my puppy back for one more day.

Proving that dreams do come true.

Mississippi is no stranger to tough times.  Whether man-made or natural, we’ve had our fair share of troubles.  The Civil War ripped across this land, changing it forever. Tornadoes have scarred towns all across our state.  The 1927 flood changed the Delta forever. Hurricanes Camille and Katrina altered the Gulf Coast. And we were on the front lines for the fight for racial equality during the 1960s.  Bigotry and noxious discrimination choked this state for decades until courageous Mississippians and their out-of-state allies stood up and said, “This is wrong.”

It wasn’t easy. And like all the other tough times, sacrifices were made and lives were lost.

But from thorns grew the great roses of equality.  And today, we live in a much better world for it. Do we still have progress to make? Sure. I like to say that we are no equally dysfunctional as the rest of the states I’ve lived in. But we’ve come so far.  My children live in a world that kids 50 years ago could never have imagined.

What a fascinating and beautiful history it is. It’s full of courage and strength.

I’ve heard people say, “well, we shouldn’t talk about this or that.” I completely disagree. We should sing our history from the mountaintops — even the parts that may not be Chamber of Commerce moments. Because the tough times are  the crucible that forged us.  And like heat is to iron, it made us stronger than steel.

I see the hole in the ground against the bluff next to the State Fair Grounds. Within a few short months, a building will be there. A building housing artifacts from the Civil Rights movement.  Mississippians will be able to go in and learn a little bit more about this pivotal time about our history.  And that’s a blessing.

Mississippi is a fascinating place. And I’m glad we celebrate our history.  It’s what makes us, well, us.  It is the spice that gives us flavor.

Dozens of travelers hustled between airport gates. A lone business traveler sat at the end of a bar and barked at his wife on a cell phone.  The bartender, trying not to eavesdrop, couldn’t help but hear every word.  The man, red faced, was obviously agitated as he berated his spouse.

“Don’t know I’m at work?!?  I’ll deal with that when I’m home!  You know it’s your job is to deal with the kids.”

The bartender grimaced when he heard, “You know it’s your job,” and just glared at the business traveler. What a jerk.

The traveler hung up the phone and said, “What are you looking at?”

The bartender sarcastically said, “Not much.”  He continued to wipe down the counter. People normally didn’t drink this early in the day. But this traveler did.

“Want to hear a story?” the bartender said.

“No.” the traveler continued to drink his beer.

“See that man over there?  His name is Todd,” the bartender continued anyway.

The man looked over his shoulder and saw a hunched over worker picking up garbage in the gate.

“Yeah, so?”

He was once like you.

The business traveler could hardly believe that. “Um, right.”

The bartender continued,”He came out here in 1985 and put his family on the plane. You know, a family like yours. Stood in the observation area and watched his family take off. At that moment he realized they were all he had.”

The traveler was still unimpressed, “What’s your point?”

“They never made it home. That plane, a Delta Lockheed TriStar, crashed in a storm in Dallas. Wiped out his wife and three kids.  Took everything from him. Needless to say, he went insane. He came back to the airport everyday waiting for the plane to come back. It never did. But he did. Day after day. After 9/11, the airport gave him a job cleaning that gate so he could get past security.  That’s the gate they left from.

“Look, it’s not my business how you deal with your family. But learn from our friend Todd.  I don’t know what you are worth, but your family is all you have.  And you don’t seem to realize that.”

The traveler put his beer down and looked at his watch.  He put a $20 down on the wood and said, “Thanks. I have a flight to change. I need to get home.”

The bartender nodded and looked as the traveler approached Todd. He put his arm around the man and passed along his condolences.  And he could see a small tear running down the old man’s face.

“We take life’s true treasures for granted,” the bartender thought as he wiped down the bar.  “There truly are no guarantees.”