Charles Mason Crawford III

Losing Charles is like losing a brother. Our times in Hillsborough, N.C. where we grew up together and in Chapel Hill where we played music together left memories that time cannot erase. I remember playing "I Can't Give You Anything But Love" on the Inn's piano (Charle's father's favorite song) while his father grinned and Charles danced on a dining room table. I remember the weekend camping trips to Doc Robert's Pond and the frog gigging. When Charles came by to pick me up in his '49 Ford, my father would ask. "No booze or cigarettes or guns?" And we would answer "no" but we had all three. One night at the campsite I teasingly threw a burning twig towards Charle's cot to awaken him. Unfortunate, it struck him behind his left ear leaving a permanent tiny charcoal tattoo behind his ear. I remember the hushed beauty the morning I awoke to a fresh snowfall outside the Inn in downtown Hillsborough where Charles and I enjoyed platefulls of Annie's delicious pancakes. Charles used to pull me in a trailer behind his car while I played ragtime on the Inn's piano along the main streets of Hillsborough. We had "gigs" in a black nightclub near Hillsborough. He loved music so much that he would hitchhike 150 miles from Wingate College to UNC-Chapel Hill to play bass in our rock and roll band, The Jades. What a joy, Charles, to have spent those wonderful years with you and to have experienced the joy flowing out of your beautiful soul. I'll Miss You--Gene Nordan