Perhaps it’s because I recently started reading The Bible (more on that later, to be sure), or maybe it’s because I have been spending more time with my own dad, but I feel super charged with sentimentality lately. Twice in the past few weeks, our family has been doing family stuff when my son quieted everyone because a Dio song started playing. I must say that in both instances, a tear welled up, filled with the essence that only makes tears of emotion, and lodged itself in the corner of my eye. They were strong tears, tears of appreciation, tears of pride, tears that are made of the desert rains that quench the eyes of fathers who are taught to keep their eyes dry of tears responding to pain or emotion. Those arid eyes are only dry as long as they have not been inspired by the power of witnessing their child’s birth, by watching The Green Mile, by experiencing a kidney stone, or by witnessing their child shush people so that they can throw horns in reverence to “Rainbow in the Dark.”
When my son shut us down to hear “Holy Diver,” and all was quiet save for magnificent 80s keyboard and guitar, an image formed in my mind. I was taken to a scene of crags and mist. A throne was perched atop a pillar of stone. A man, diminutive yet mighty, kind of like if Yoda and Carla from Cheers had a kid, stood in front of the throne. Far below, on our earthly plane, someone rolled a critical hit, and the man raised a fist in acknowledgement of the mighty blow. He nodded his head to someone reaching the final credits after having watched each of the Lord of the Rings movies in succession. He gave a pointed index finger of power each time an adventuring party formed a Heaven and Hell era tribute band. The man stopped his gestures of favor to the devout and fixed his gaze earthward. He focused on a single spot, a keep deep in the suburbs. A family joined in feast stopped their communal repast at the raised palm of a small child. A powerful, mystical wind could be heard. The boy gave a hushed request for silence, and he issued a terse explanation with simply, “Holy Diver.” The man in the mountain smiled a knowing smile, sat himself upon his throne, and gave the highest of all blessings in his might, the ward against the Malocchio, the sign of love and power, the extended index and small fingers forming the horns of the elect.
Back on Earth, the family was entranced by the magic sounds, the boy nodded to the meter, and the matriarch shook her head. The scene was only interrupted by a sincere and motherly, “You dorks.” For my son and the future daughters and sons of my son, I thank you, Ronnie James Dio. May your might be felt for ages to come.
Have a good day!
Otto Scungy
Holy Diver
Heaven and Hell
Dungeons & Dragons commercial
https://youtu.be/q1wGlOwn1pM
