(This is a special edition none going out to emails. It’s very personal for me, so there’s no buttons or anything else, either.
I’m one of a small handful of people that give a damn about this, but it means the world to me. In the mid 90s a band called Seven Mary Three had a single hit, “Cumbersome.” It still sees fairly regular play on 90s radio.
While everyone else said “One hit wonder!” I was already buying the next album. And I bought them all, each as soon as it released. What wasn’t being said was that this was a different kind of band.
7M3 wanted to make albums that were different, challenging. This stems from how they met. The members attended William & Mary together. Before moving to Miami and cutting a rough album, Jason Ross(lead guitar, vocals, writing) finished his Master’s degree in Music.
A tightly dedicated fanbase (including yours truly), they kept making albums that were surprising, new, and evocative. Ross’ songwriting improved to a level that left every song on every album the type of track that would jump up in your head days after hearing it and demand you put the CD in the car’s stereo.
Backbooth, Live & Acoustic
In 2008, most of the original members had left, albums back. Jason Ross was not deterred. Playing a set of 3 shows at a small venue in 2008, they released a seamless live and acoustic collection in 2010, titled “Backbooth.”
In 2012, Seven Mary Three disbanded, no reason given. Jason Ross was offered a job running the Bowery in NYC. Extremely famous venue where he mixed countless band’s live performances to sound like velvet on CD, or mp3. End of story.
Until a couple of years ago. When suddenly the band’s website changed for the first time in a decade. Blank white landing page. The 7M3 logo, and a short message, “back soon…”
In 2024, Jason Ross began releasing a new track every few months. He came with a clear message, “I NEVER Stopped.”
Fuck Cancer
My heart jumped. I’d been in a real depressive spiral since 2012. Lost Pops to lung cancer in 2016. And I just never really recovered. Pops had been a big fan too. He had always been a big music buff. And he raised me to be one too. The late 90s was a highly experimental listening phase for me. All the two of us could agree on was Seven Mary Three.
On the last album, “Backbooth,” the live set ends with a cover song. Just Jason Ross. No band. Otis Redding’s “That’s how strong my love is.”
Before Pops passed, I think it was kinda when he made peace with the idea that the chemo wasn’t working. We sat in his office, listening to Backbooth, and he asked me to take care of all the funeral arrangements and stuff. He didn’t want mom to have to go through that. We talked about what he wanted, and I said, “Okay.” Zero hesitation.
Breathing Ain’t Easy
He hadn’t been in a church since before I was born. Now the summer of my 34th year was ending. So was his ability to breathe. I started writing drafts for what would be his Eulogy. (Odd circumstance: I received a lot of praise for that eulogy, and several awkward job offers. I took them all.)
He died in his sleep on September 10, 2016. Exactly one month before his 65th birthday. He’d survived 11 months after receiving his cancer diagnosis. When he was diagnosed, the type of lung cancer had only had a 12% survival rate at 2 years from diagnosis. I started grieving well before he accepted what was happening.
Cancer & The Kid
I had no intention for this to turn into such a ramble, but I’m about to reconnect the circle. Stick around. Almost done.
He was cremated, and we held a memorial service in the funeral home’s side rooms, away from the organ and pews. My niece had put together a slideshow on DVD. This was days before. I’d been playing songs he loved on my computer nonstop trying to decide on what we’d set the photos to.
“Otis!”
“That’s How Strong My Love Is” was playing, Mom came running from the opposite end of the house. “This one. Put this one on there.” So we did. There was still a little over 2min of sound to fill. I knew immediately what would fit perfectly.
So the slideshow started with Jason Ross belting out that amazing cover, then it faded.. a seconds later, The Beatles’ “In My Life,” started. Beautiful song. Rolling Stone asked pro musicians about the best songs written in the 1900s. Then averaged it together into a five disc collection. “In my Life,” was the undisputed number 1 song written in the 20th Century. I knew it by heart, and new it was exactly as long as the space to be filled.
Now, my dad, he was very solitary. He rarely spoke, unless what he had to say mattered. I can’t tell you how many times I wondered why he didn’t have friends. I felt so wrong about that at his service. Over 100 people packed into that side room meant to hold about 25 max. Pops didn’t bring his work home with him, and he only talked to his brothers and sisters, and mom regularly. The amount of family there was probably under 20. I can’t say exactly, as some very distant cousins I hadn’t ever met turned up.
People he had worked with at his 34 year career as a factory maintenance foreman came out in droves.
There was this bit at the end of the eulogy i’d written about how he had a strange, pigheaded pride that never really made sense to me. It was the last line.
I changed it, mid-speech. “He had this weird kind of pride that I never really understood, but, looking around at all the faces here with us tonight, I think I get it now.”
Applause.
Shockingly. I wasn’t expecting anything like that.
Every single person came around, teary-eyed, hugged me, then mom, then down the family. It was a surreal experience. He had meant so much to so many, and I’d had no idea because he worked with them, or otherwise spent time with them while I was wrapped up in my own teenage wasteland.
I’m stopping now. I started this as a note, intended to talk only about the band. I should’ve known better. I can’t listen to Backbooth without thinking of Pops. I also hadn’t intended it to get so personal.
A few days later, we spread his ashes and built a flower garden over it. We got a big stone from the river, and had his information engraved on it. He rests in front of the house he grew up in.
I’m about to do my sign off. If you’d like to hear Backbooth there’ll be a link following. Also, for the first time ever outside of my notebooks, his eulogy will serve as wrap up.
I’m Jack Lhasa
You Are Amazing
👊👊Solidarity👊👊
This hs been another special article that is unrelated to Worldbuilding or writing.
Seven Mary Three - Backbooth
The Beatles - In My Life
Pops’ Eulogy
Dennis Owens
Devoted son, husband, father, brother, and grandfather.
He loved rarely,
But very deeply,
With the whole of his being.
Like the Tennessee River,
On the surface, he was a simple man,
Still, calm.
But to know him was to know
That those waters ran deep.
His faith never wavered.
In this thick fog that surrounds us,
He could always see the lighthouse.
God’s glory was always found,
Stunningly obvious, in nature.
He truly marveled at Creation.
No matter the goings on of men.
He was proud, in a way that I’m just starting to understand,
Looking around this room.
He did not fear death,
Not for himself,
But rather,
For how it would affect each of us.
I fear though, that we’ve already said much more than he’d have preferred.
So, let us take solace now,
Knowing his pain is over,
And he can finally breathe.
Eulogy for Dennis W Owens,
September 17th, 2016.
We all miss you Pops.
Did I say, “Fuck Cancer?”
Fuck it.
