I've been away for a week and when I got back found a pm from Mountain Boy, asking me if I'm the same Jerry Rasmussen that was singing a song in Greenwich Village in the early 60's called The Death Of Colonel Solomon P. Sharp. No one would be likely to think up a title of a song like that. I read an old newspaper from Kentucky, dated sowmehere back in the eighteen hundreds about the shocking murder of Colonel Sharp. I was intrigued by the story (he was awakened from his sleep at 2 in the morning by a stranger looking for a place to stay who, without warning, swore at him and stabbed him in the stomach as he stepped into the house. Colonel Sharp died in the doorway, with his wife holding him with his children in shock, standing around him. The killer actually gave his name, but got away and was never found. The treat about writing the song was that I was able to use much of the same language that was in the article. As the article said, the killing was "a blow to all that's sacred in our lives." Colonel Sharp died "Still warm from his loving wife's arms."

The amazing thing for me is that I haven't sung that song in 40 years, and the friend of the person who asked about me lives in Colorado and I haven't heard from him since the mid-60's. I was his Best Man at his wedding. Only goes to show how music never ceases to amaze!

Jerry