A new generation

the aspar · Joined: 20 May 2010 Posts: 5

I'd like to share a story now that happened to me a few days after Ronnie moved on.

Firstly, I have a stereo built onto my bicycle. It only has a pair of 2.5" speakers but is very loud and Ronnie's voice is one of the few that I can play maxed out. (The others being Geoff Tate and Bruce Dickenson, when their bands are not being too bassy.) In the days following May 16th the only thing I played was Dio.

I was coming home from work on Thursday afternoon with Rainbow in the Dark going at about a two-block radius. When I first built the bike this kind of volume would hurt my ears, but they're damaged now to the point where I don't really notice. Wink

Normally I keep the bike at a reasonable volume while going through residential areas, but that week I didn't care. I just wanted to share Dio's music with the world, a world that he had sadly left behind. That, and I had it loud enough that I could sing along and not hear how shaky and off-key my own voice was. It was comforting to know that with the magic of recording, we can still sing together, Ronnie and me.

So, as I was playing Rainbow in the Dark, I looked to my right and saw a young boy, probably 10 or 12 years old, staring at me, mouth agape. People often stare at my bike, but this was different. I can't describe the look in his eyes, but I think most people here know it. It was the look of a child hearing Dio for the first time, hearing metal for the first time, hearing music for the first time. My mouth broke into a smile and I raised my fingers in a subtle wave.

At that moment I realized that what Ronnie created was bigger than any of us, and that his influence, his music, would never die. For a brief moment that hole in my heart that I'd felt since Ronnie left, flickered out, and he was back.

Then the moment passed, and I rode on. The child's mother was gardening a few feet away, and stopped to glare at me and my devil music. I don't think she'll ever understand, but that's fine. Some people just can't understand, I suppose. We are the lucky ones.