Dreams Don't Die

By most accounts from the siblings I have now spoken to, James Donald Cook's life was one of both triumph and tragedy. Handsome, talented, charming and comedic, he is rumored to have put on a great show and been great fun when hanging with the guys. He was cocky, ambitious, driven by a dream he would sadly, only partially realize. His own hopes of true superstardom were thwarted by the alcoholism which ultimately killed him.
"It got so that he was drunk at rehearsals, drunk on stage, drunk every time Hank or Roy came to visit", another sister Linda explained. "They loved him but he became an embarrassment professionally." I'm told his dreams were finally dashed when he was so drunk he fell offstage during one of many performances at the Grande Ol Opry. Roy-his very best friend-had no choice but to fire him, and he and their relationship were never the same…. He was destroyed, the failure pushing him only further over the edge. It isn't difficult to understand. I have too strived in music and so far fallen short of my full potential. I know the frustration of coming so close to making it all the way there that you can touch it, taste it, feel it in your hands and then only to have it knocked from your grasp by problems in your personal life. "His drinking was the undoing of not only his career but the family", Linda expressed, sadly. "He later realized how badly off he was and tried to apologize to family and friends but we were all then still too angry to listen." I am sad for him. But there is still hope for me. I have to get my act together.

My eldest sister Jean sent me a now faded black and white photo of J.D. from the mid-forties, when he was in his early 20's. He was on Miami's South Beach, amid palm trees, bare-chested and leaning back against a shiny new car. He smiled skyward, brown hair blowing in the ocean breeze, bronzed skin glistening in the sun. He was stunning, to say the least.
"I'm having impure thoughts about your birth father", my friend Kara admitted. "He was the Indian James Dean." Indeed. I should be better looking. "Are any of your brothers still single?"
Now, my adoptive parents are an attractive couple themselves. In their youth my mother resembled a British Jennifer Lopez, Dad looked like rocker Rick Astley. Now middle aged, they are still so attractive I have had friends of both sexes pull me aside to tell me that they were crushing on one or the other, which of course made me feel both embarrassed and uncomfortable.
“Your Mom’s still so beautiful”, Johnnie used to whisper, when we were dating.
“Yes she is”, I’d agree, warning him, “But my Dad’ll pound you like peanut butter.”
“Your father’s a babe, Mel”, Lucy used to drool, staring at his old air force photo that hung on the stairwell wall. “If he weren’t married--“ “That’s my Dad!”, I’d scream, scolding her. “Don’t make me hurt you!” Had I been their natural child I’d surely be a knockout. But, my birth parents striking good looks somehow surprised me, because I had always been such a plain little wall flower, awkward and insecure in my youth. Jimmy was so young, so healthy in this photo, so happy.... I wondered what he was like in those days. Confident and carefree.... He started out to conquer all the world. And he very well might have, if it weren't for the bottle. I root for the starry-eyed young man in the sand. I feel for the old man who never surrendered the dream. It survives in me.
I am reminded of country singer "Jett Williams" and her even more astounding discovery in the late 1980's that she was in fact, the long lost biological daughter of Hank William Sr. She too had been adopted and learned only in adulthood of her parentage. I think it's amazing how similar our stories are. It's curious how we both unknowingly followed in our fathers footsteps (though she is far more well-known than I). I would love to one day meet this extraordinary woman.