My friend and mentor Ross Snyder spoke frequently of an “Ecology of Spirit.” We participate in an amazing network of relationships. Our very being is influenced and shaped by other persons. Some of the people in our ecology of spirit have been known by us personally. The influence of parents and siblings is obvious. Equally obvious is the influence of teachers. But we are also influenced by the authors of books that we have read, the politicians who set policies by which we live, and artists who shape the culture around us.

President John F. Kennedy recognized the unique and important contributions of those who shape our culture and established the Medal of Freedom. It is our nation’s highest civilian honor awarded to people from all walks of life who have made exceptional contributions to society. Previous honorees include Mother Teresa, Margaret Thatcher, Stephen Hawking, Walt Disney, Doris Day, Duke Ellington and Aretha Franklin. 13 people were honored with the award in a White House ceremony yesterday. Some of the names were not familiar to me, even though I agree that they have shaped the culture of our nation. Gordon Hirabayashi fought the internment of Japanese-Americans during World War II. He did not live to see his honor. He died in January. Jan Karski was an officer in the Polish Underground in World War II and later became a professor at Georgetown University’s School of Foreign Service. She died in 2000. William Foege is still living. He is a physician and former director of the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention who led the campaign to eradicate smallpox.

It is interesting that two of the recipients honored yesterday are well known to me, but both are known by names different than their birth names. Author Toni Morrison has written novels that tell the story of the African-American experience. She was named Chloe Anthony Wofford by her parents. I wouldn’t recognize her by that name.

Bob Dylan was born Robert Allen Zimmerman. He took his stage name from the poet Dylan Thomas. It seems appropriate when you consider how much Bob Dylan has emphasized the importance of his lyrics. He is a poet.

When I think of Bob Dylan’s music, I think of the lyrics first. His gravely voice is unique and I enjoy listening to his recordings. There are a few good guitar licks on those albums, but I won’t remember him as a guitar player.

There are other guitar players who have become part of how I understand the instrument and its music. Sadly, a lot of those great guitar players are, like some of the recipients of the Medal of Freedom, no longer living. Fortunately we have their recordings, so their music is still with us, but there will be no new albums from greats like Merle Travis, Django Reinhardt, George Barnes, Les Paul and Chet Atkins. My oh my how Chet could pick a guitar. He could make you laugh and weep at the same time as you marveled how two human hands could create such magic.

And yesterday we lost another great picker. I never lived down south and I have rarely visited there. I’ve only drive through the Blue Ridge Mountains a couple of times. But I have a sense of having visited there a lot more often because of Doc Watson’s incredible music. Bob Dylan wrote incredible songs, but if you really want them to be etched into your memory, listen to the way Doc Watson performed them. He could make folk music come alive like no one else.

But what I like most of Doc Watson’s repertoire are the old time songs. He could take a fiddle tune and play it on the guitar. He could play a traditional song like “Shady Grove” so that you’d never forget it. In a way what he did best was to play in a way that took his listeners to another time and another place. When he sang a Jimmie Rodgers yodel, I felt the pain of the Great Depression even though it happened before I was born. When he sang a Carter Family Song, I was sitting on the porch in a rural Virginia mountain home, though I’ve never lived anywhere east of Chicago.

My favorite recording of “Will the Circle be Unbroken” features Doc playing with his son Merle. Merle died in a tractor accident in 1985. Perhaps Doc’s death is the completion of the circle in a way. Perhaps they are already singing together once again. Music can do that. It can transcend the barriers of time and of place. It can transport us to places we have never been. It can reunite those separated by death.

If I were the president (don’t worry, I’m not qualified and will never be president), I think I’d award the Medal of Freedom to Leo Kottke and Ricky Skaggs while they are still alive and picking their guitars. I think the solemn White House ceremony might benefit from a little good guitar picking. As important as such ceremonies are, they do not define our culture and they do not recognize all of the important people who make up the ecology of spirit that surrounds us every day and give meaning to our lives. No matter how long the list of distinguished honorees grows, there will be always be deserving folk who don’t get publicly named.

Godspeed Doc! We’re going to miss you. We’re going to miss that great finger picking and that warm, folksy singing. Thanks for the music. In this life you were a blind man, but you were also a true visionary. Without the benefit of sight through your eyes, you added insight to your music that continues to inspire us today.

I know that there are plenty of people who think of heaven as a place filled with harps and people who know how to tune and play them. I like harp music. I like symphony orchestras. But I’m confident that somewhere in heaven there is a corner with a group of folk and their guitars, experimenting with new finger patterns and going faster and faster until the music erases the distinction between heaven and earth.

Copyright © 2012 by Ted Huffman. I wrote this. If you want to copy it, please ask for permission. There is a contact me button at the bottom of this page. If you want to share my blog a friend, please direct your friend to my web site.