COME THE DAWN, COME THE DAWN
If you’re like me, you’ve spent the last few days alternately frozen in shock and smiling in remembrance of the great Ronnie James Dio. For us the fans, there’s little else to do but crank the many classic Dio records and camp out on Blabbermouth, tearfully reading the innumerable anecdotes and tributes to the man, his work, and his impact. That means you’ve also read how RJD treated his musical brethren — with care, warmth, and love. And it’s not like the man is measured by how many people to whom he showed kindness; the guy really meant it. Here’s how I know:
At the Golden Gods awards back in April, I was staked out at the ass end of the black carpet. This year, however, it was prime real estate thanks to VH1’s That Metal Show, whose set acted as a backstop for the trickle of metal guys who’d just finished answering the same four questions all along the press line. It was an impromptu legends lounge, as Ozzy, oblivious, strolled unnoticed behind a genial Zakk Wylde, Lemmy snuggled with the beknockered Corey Parks, Jerry Cantrell and Mike Inez gabbed with Dave Lombardo and Kerry King, and Alice Cooper hugged Dave Mustaine (and everybody else). The Testament guys were there, Marilyn Manson was there, the Korn guys were there; also packed into this 15′ by 15′ space were Slash, Robert Englund, John 5, Robs Halford and Zombie, Tony Iommi and Geezer Butler, Scott Ian, Deftones… and everybody was goofing around while waiting to chat with TMS‘s Eddie Trunk and his co-hosts. The mood was amazing. I felt like I’d jumped a fence into Coolsville, or as though one of those illustrated rock star dorm posters had come to life before my eyes. Don’t front; you would’ve loved it.
Anyway, I rotated to the other side of the TMS set for some elbow room and saw Ronnie being interviewed by Trunk and crew. Of course, I was scanning RJD’s face, body language, and speech for clues to his condition. He looked good. Moments later, he stepped down from the set, and passed right across my toes en route to the venue. Reflexively, I blurted out “We love you, Ronnie. Get well soon!” at which point he stopped, looked me in the eyes, and, with a smile, gave my forearm a reassuring squeeze. At that moment, he and I were alone on the face of a planet of pure white. That’s just how he makes you feel.
Even among the night’s other encounters, my moment with RJD was astounding. I cry as I write this, but joyfully and in gratitude for that precious opportunity to give him my love and best wishes; most of us weren’t so fortunate. It wasn’t until after his death that I heard how the day before Golden Gods, he experienced a bad reaction to treatment and had cancelled some press activities. Yet 24 hours later, on a busy night among dozens of friends and hundreds of fans, he devoted some of his scant remaining time and energy to reach out to me — a nameless fan, a drooling neophyte, a journalist goon — to let me know that he loved me back.
Ronnie James Dio, 1942 – 2010
– ADF
