February 3, 1959.

Today is the day that the music died.

Ritchie Valens, Buddy Holly and J.P. Richardson all died in a dramatic air crash. Ritchie Valens in particular was a major loss. A pioneer in the Spanish-language American Rock & Roll scene, the 17 year old played a pivotal role in helping to begin the country's anti-racism movement through cultural diffusion.

Years later, a white (baby boomer) named Don McLean would pen a song about the emotional trauma all Americans felt on Feb 3, 1959.

The song, "The Day the Music Died" has been a deeply loved favorite of mine and my little brother Hassan since we were in middle school. The sons of Pakistani immigrants who grew up on the ancient classical songs of South Asia, we had little exposure growing up *any* of the musical styles mourned in the song. In fact, American Pie was likely our first experience with American ballad songs.

Think of that chain: A Chicano rock & roller and two musical legends, being mourned by an Irish-American man singing in a very different style of music, being adored by two Pathan American children, three entire generations removed from the lyric's meaning. That's America.

The fact that a song, written over a decade before I was born, by a man whose life and origins were so different than both his audience (me) and his subjects (Buddy, J.P. & Ritchie), has so deeply touched me and so many other people speaks about what really makes America great.

E Pluribus Unum.