Cy Rawls: One last farewell

I spent a subdued weekend thinking a lot about a recently departed friend, Cy Rawls, whose funeral is today in Jacksonville. If you come around here much, you've no doubt read about him. And if you've gone to local-band shows with any regularity over the last decade, you probably recognize him. I wouldn't say I knew him well. But I'm not sure too many people did.

Most of our interactions consisted of shouted conversations in loud places with a band blaring in the background, plus the occasional interview about this or that. Since he was everywhere and seemed to know everyone, he was a good person to keep in touch with -- even though he wasn't the best quote source. He was just such a sweetheart that I never heard him utter an unkind word about anyone, even people who deserved it.

"Cy," I told him once, "you're just too danged reasonable." His only response was to grin, and shrug.

He seemed content to go his own mysterious way, appearing and disappearing without calling much attention to himself. But in his quiet, unassuming way, he was a star. Because, for all the attention that bands get, those of us on the other side of the stage also have an important role to play -- bearing witness, and supporting the efforts of those who get up there to do it. As Chapel Hill's ubur-fan, Rawls played that role better than anybody.

You get back what you put into the world. That seems like a cruel thing to say about someone who dies at age 33. Yet it applies to Rawls. The very small silver lining of this tragedy is that his friends had a chance to let him know how they felt. And it's still going on. All you have to do is read the tributes his friends are leaving to know how much he was loved and appreciated.

Over the last few months, the local music community came together in a show of support that was inspiring and overwhelming. That's what's worth remembering -- and also how much he did to earn that respect.

ADDENDUM: Woody Durham's on-air tribute.