Season 7 Bonus "Janey's Little Boy"

Because righteousness govern the world.

Broadcasting live and direct from the rolling red hills on the outskirts of Kingston, Jamaica.

From a magical place at the intersection of words, sound, and power, the red light is on.

Your dial is set the frequency in tune to the Rootsland podcast stories that are music to your ears.

Hey, what's up, Ruthland family?

I just want to say Happy Mother's day to all the mothers out there.

I know being a mom today is really tough, but it's so rewarding.

Happy Mother's day to you too, Sia.

Beautiful mother of my daughter.

And next to my mom, you are the most wonderful, loving, nurturing, overprotective, overbearing, suffocating, smothering.

Hey, I'm not saying that's a bad thing.

Look, I turned out pretty good.

And our daughter's okay, too, right?

Right.

Both you and my mom did a great job.

Couldn't agree more.

I loved your mom.

She was the best.

I miss her so much.

Oh, I miss her too.

But she didn't go anywhere.

For some reason, I keep hearing her voice just ringing around my head.

It doesn't go anywhere, even when I wanted to.

Oh, believe me, I hear that same voice.

I'm gonna say a few words in honor of my mom and all the moms out there and grandmothers.

But, Henry, remember why we're here.

I'm here to remind the audience about the contest.

Yes, that's important.

That is true.

That's why we're here.

As you all know, we debuted our new podcast, Kingston to Cali, a couple of weeks back.

The link's below just in case you missed it.

As part of that show, I'm heading out to the Calyroots music festival in Monterey.

May 24 to May 26 features the Marley brothers burning spear, kabaka, pyramid revolution, stick figure, plenty more.

And guess what?

You can join me by winning two free weekend passes to the festival.

Right, Sia?

If you want to enter the contest, you gotta go to facebook.com rootslandpodcast.

Just leave a comment on whether you're team Jamaica or team caloroots.

Well, you know where I stand on.

That one and who you want to see and why.

And that will enter you.

To win the tickets, we want to make sure that our lawyer listeners don't miss out on a chance to see the show.

Yeah, that's true.

Some of them don't even know we have a Facebook page.

And you know we're gonna tip the scales in your guys favor, right?

Our podcast listeners?

Henry, you can't do that.

That's cheating.

It's not cheating.

We'll enter their names twice.

That's the same thing.

Please.

See, I'm joking.

I'm joking.

You know, Babylon's watching.

Okay, as long as you're joking.

Yeah.

Anyway, guys, technically you only have till midnight tonight to enter, so you better hurry up.

But midnight where?

We don't specify.

So I would go on and make.

Those comments and remember to listen and subscribe to our new Kingston to Cali podcast, where we explore reggae's journey west.

And tomorrow night, we announce the winner.

There are probably a thousand stories I can tell you about my mom.

Sweet Janie Goodrich from Brooklyn, New York.

Each one would only give you a small glimpse of how special she was as a mother and a person.

You know, I lost both my parents before the first episode of Rootsland was ever released.

It's true.

They were by my side for all the trials and tribulations and shared many of the adventures along with me.

I'm just sad they never had a chance to hear the show, especially after all the things my mother had to put up with.

Letting me move to Kingston, knowing how dangerous and violent it was.

She was terrified and heartbroken.

Had no idea what I was doing, only that I was following my dream, and that was good enough for her.

While this bonus chapter of Roots Land is in honor of my mom, in reality, the entire series, every show is in fact a tribute to my mom and my dad.

Thanks for the faith and the trust and the confidence that you had in me.

It was a gift that's value.

I truly understood when I opened my first studio in Deerfield back in the year 2000.

This was about the same time that I became reacquainted with a high school friend from Long Island, New York.

Well, maybe more of an acquaintance than a friend.

We'll just call him piano man for now, to protect his identity and because he's a gifted musician.

Anyway, back in our teenage years, Piano man was as cool as they come.

The dude that everyone looked up to, everyone wanted to be like, including me.

Rockstar looks and talent.

Dated hot models, hot older models.

He even bought his clothes at the same vintage boutiques in Greenwich Village as the movie stars did.

He just seemed to have it all except one.

He had an abysmal home life.

He was caught in the middle of a bitter divorce battle between two parents that didn't give a crap about their boy, viewed him as an object rather than a person, attempted to buy, even extort his loyalty at any cost in order for him to choose a side in the divorce, in essence, he became nothing more than the various properties and possessions that were being divvied up in the settlement.

I mean, don't think he didn't milk it.

Piano man had issues resulting from the ordeal, but he also had his own apartment in Manhattan.

At 16 years old, I was told by a mutual friend that he was moving to Florida after being bit of a drifter living in various places.

His arrival coincided with a new compilation album I was producing and recording at my new studio, so I ended up hiring him to help out on the project.

His musical skills were as sharp as ever, yet for some reason, he never lived up to his potential, never quite got the right break or found the right woman, or had a family.

It was obvious he still bore the scars of a painful childhood.

Still, he seemed to find some peace and solace, writing songs, making music, putting his time and focus into his craft.

One night, on my way to pick up piano man for a studio session, I was running late.

Realized I left my phone at the house.

Rather than waste valuable time turning around, I figured I might as well get piano man first, drop him at the studio.

If anything, I could circle back from my cell phone.

Later.

When I arrived at his place, I knocked on the door for at least ten minutes.

There was no answer.

Of course, I didnt have my phone to call him, so I just stood there, knocking.

Eventually, piano man answers the door, seems dejected, his head held down.

Then I see tears flowing down his cheeks onto his shirt.

Hes sobbing uncontrollably.

I cant remember ever seeing a grown man cry like this.

I was caught off guard, not sure how to react.

I stood there for a minute in awkward silence before finally asking if everything was okay.

Piano man, tell me what happened.

Is something wrong?

Are you hurt?

No.

He nodded gently.

Then what is it?

Whats wrong?

He said.

I just got off the phone with your mom when I couldnt reach you on your cell phone.

I tried your house to see if you left yet.

And yes, I'll pause the story here to say, at the time I was staying with my parents, you know my story, how tough the music business is.

Anyway, piano man gets the courage to face me, lifts up his head and looks me straight in the eye.

I can see the pain.

See, he's hurt.

Henry, he says.

I honestly felt more love from your mom in the ten minutes I was talking to her on the phone than my mother gave me in my entire life.

Do you know how lucky you are?

When I heard that, my heart sank for so many reasons.

First of all, for my friend, I can see his profound sadness and respected his willingness to open up and share his vulnerabilities.

Then, of course, I felt a deep sense of guilt because I didn't know how lucky I was.

I thought about all those times I rushed my mom off the phone, told her I was too busy to talk, only to switch on the tv or stare at a wall.

Here was this wonderful woman whose main reason for living was me and my brother.

She sacrificed everything for us, and yet I still took her for granted.

And now, looking at the piano man, I saw what the alternative was.

To never have experienced that kind of maternal love and support that I received.

What a disadvantage that would have been for me.

When I got home from the studio that night, I made sure to tell my mother I loved her.

And she never mentioned that conversation with piano man.

You know, you can be given everything in life.

Talent, opportunity, privilege.

It's all valuable.

Only one thing is irreplaceable.

That's a mother's love.

And the things that I would trade now just to have a ten minute conversation on the phone with my mom or my dad.

Over time, I've come to realize that no matter what I do in life, no matter where I go, how far I climb, or how long I walk, even if I live to be a hundred years old, I'll never forget who I am.

And that's Janie's little boy.

Here's a song that I produced back in the day that's very special to me, and I dedicated it to my mom.

It features one of my favorite reggae artists, a singer who always brought love and joy and happiness into the studio.

And the quality of his heart always equaled the quality of his work.

This is for all the mothers and fathers and grandparents.

Here's Sugar Minot with his version of the Elton John classic.

Your song looks a little bit funny.

This feeling inside.

I'm not one of.

Those who keep is a little I don't have much money but if I did, I buy it I swear we both could live if I was a sculptor but Danny can know all man makes his potion in a traveling show I know it's not much but it's the best I can do my gift is my song and this one's for.

You.

And you can tell everybody that this is a song it may be quite simple but now that it's done I hope you don't mind I hope you don't mind that I put down in words roof eight and kicked off a miles well, if you want the verses?

Well, they got me quite cross?

But the sun smells so good to me?

While I wrote this song?

It's for people like you, dad?

Keep it turned on all along?

So excuse me for forgetting?

But these things I do?

You see, I forgot it in there?

Green on this blue?

And the thing is what I really mean?

Yours are the sweetest eyes I see?

Then you can tell everybody this is your song?

It may be quite simple?

But now get it done?

I hope you don't mind?

I hope you don't mind?

That I put down in words?

Just I wonder for life while you were?

I'll get a.