The Day the Music Died

It was on February 3, 1959, that rock stars Buddy Holly, Ritchie Valens, and J.P. “The Big Bopper” Richardson died in a plane crash outside Clear Lake, Iowa. McLean was a 13-year-old paperboy when the crash happened. He captures this personal memory in the first verse:

When Don McLean sang about "the day the music died," he was referring to February 3, 1959. McLean was a 13-year-old paperboy when the crash happened. He captures this personal memory in the first verse:"But February made me shiver / With every paper I'd deliver / Bad news on the doorstep / I couldn't take one more step"

For McLean, the event represented more than just a tragic accident; it symbolized the end of an era of innocence in post-war America and the beginning of a more turbulent cultural landscape.

The three musicians were partway through a grueling “Winter Dance Party Tour” through the upper Midwest. Twenty-two-year-old Holly was reluctant to participate in the tour. He was sick of touring, his wife was pregnant, and they were scheduled to play 24 cities in 24 days. But he needed the money — his split from his band and manager the year before had left him with legal and financial problems. The tour was even worse than Holly imagined. 

The winter was one of the coldest in decades, and the tour stops were poorly planned, zigzagging back and forth between states. They traveled on a freezing cold bus — slept sitting up in the hard seats. They performed in dirty clothes because they had no time to do laundry. One night when the temperature was 30 degrees below zero, the bus broke down on a rural road in Wisconsin’s north woods; the passengers huddled under blankets and burned newspapers in the aisles until the sheriff arrived. Holly’s drummer had frostbitten feet. They canceled their afternoon show that day but played that night in Green Bay, and arrived the next day in Clear Lake, Iowa. 

 In Clear Lake, they played a sold-out show at the Surf Ballroom to more than 1,000 teenagers. Holly was so sick of the miserable bus that he decided to hire a charter plane to take them to their next stop in Moorhead, Minnesota. Holly wanted to rest, and figured he could do everyone’s laundry before that night’s show. The charter plane would only fit three people. Holly’s bass player on the tour was future country music star Waylon Jennings, who agreed to give up his seat to the Big Bopper, who was sick. Holly’s guitarist flipped a coin with Ritchie Valens, and Valens won. 

The plane took off from Clear Lake in the early morning hours of February 3rd. There was a light snow, but the sky seemed clear; the pilot did not know that there was a blizzard warning. The plane crashed just a few minutes later in a cornfield outside of town.

MacLean concludes his song:
"And the three men I admire most / The Father, Son, and the Holy Ghost / They caught the last train for the coast / The day the music died."

While these lines use heavy religious imagery, in the context of the song, they are almost universally interpreted as a final tribute to the three musicians who died in the plane crash: Buddy Holly, Ritchie Valens, and The Big Bopper. By calling them the "Father, Son, and Holy Ghost," McLean is essentially "canonizing" them as the holy trinity of early rock and roll. Why the Trinity? 

Many listeners break down the roles like this:
The Father: Buddy Holly. He was the pioneer, the songwriter, and the leader of the group. He was the "architect" of the sound McLean loved.
The Son: Ritchie Valens. He was the youngest (only 17) and represented the future of the genre and the "youth" of rock and roll.
The Holy Ghost: The Big Bopper. As a radio DJ and a larger-than-life personality, he represented the "spirit" and the voice of the era.

The Science of Sleep and the Dreaming Brain

The experience of dreaming is nearly universal, yet its origins and purpose remain one of the great unanswered questions in science. 

On average, every individual spends about two hours each night traveling through seemingly real experiences that bubble up from the subconscious. Despite this ubiquity, dream recall is surprisingly low, with most people remembering only about two dreams per week. In rare cases, roughly one in every 250 people has never recalled a single dream.

Dreams largely arise during the Rapid Eye Movement (REM) phase of the sleep cycle, though not entirely. Sleep is a natural process conserved across evolution in nearly all animals with a brain, and the REM cycle repeats about four to six times per night, with each period lasting roughly 90 minutes.

Modern science has evolved from crude mid-1900s methods—like taping participants' eyes open—to using advanced techniques such as MRIs and the electroencephalogram (EEG), which link dreams to observable brain functions. Research suggests that during dream sleep, the brain connects new information learned during the day with already-stored memories, creating a "revised mind-wide web of associations." This process, blending emotion-driven visual imagery and memory consolidation, is theorized to help us make sense of experiences, regulate emotions, and prepare for future situations.5 Specific brain structures are involved in this process. 

The hippocampus, a region critical for memory formation, plays a major role in dreaming; studies show that people with damage to this area still dream, but their narratives lack the richness of detail described by others.

 The body is designed to prevent us from acting out our dreams through temporary paralysis of skeletal muscles (known as REM atonia). Failures in this process lead to certain phenomena, such as sleepwalking (somnambulism) which occurs most frequently in children, but only during the deeper stages of non-REM sleep when the protective muscle paralysis is absent. 

Sleep Paralysis is a well-known phenomenon that occurs when the brain awakens early but the body fails to "unfreeze" in sync, often resulting in terrifying hallucinations.

In contrast, lucid dreaming is a state where the dreamer is aware they are dreaming and can even control their actions. About 20% of people experience this at least once a month, though most people never report the experience. This heightened state is associated with increased activity in the frontal lobes, the brain regions responsible for decision-making and attention management, and may involve the emergence of a collaborative brain network. 

 Nightmares, considered parasomnias (undesirable events experienced during sleep), are unpredictable but have been linked to factors such as stress, anxiety, and trauma.

For most of recorded history, dreams were considered divine in origin, with the earliest record of dream interpretation dating back to Ancient Sumer. The first venture into modern theory was by the ancient Greek philosopher Heracleitus, who proposed that dreams were created within the mind. This idea was formalized with the rise of psychoanalysis in the late 1800s.

Famed Austrian psychologist Sigmund Freud believed dreams were symbolic expressions of desire and that interpreting their content—often using free association—could reveal truths about one's psyche. Separately, psychologist Carl Jung proposed the controversial idea of the 'collective unconscious,' a universal part of the unconscious mind containing innate elements called archetypes (like the Hero or the Shadow) that shape dreams across cultures.

However, the interpretation of dream patterns must also account for a cognitive bias called pareidolia, which is the tendency to find meaning and assume a generative force behind patterns produced by randomness. 

 Finally, while the question of whether animals dream depends on one's definition, studies on sleeping cats, rats, fish, and finches show their brains fire as if performing actions from waking life, and even spiders and insects exhibit REM-like sleep.

The Next Y2K Problem

Y2K, short for “Year 2000,” was a potential computer bug caused by how dates were formatted in older software. To save memory space, early computers used two-digit years—like “97” for 1997—which in the new millennium risked misreading “00” as 1900 instead of 2000, potentially disrupting systems that depended on accurate dates (read 101).

Though a kind of panic occurred in 1999, the Y2K issue surfaced in technical literature as early as 1984. Long before it became a global concern, researchers were already flagging the two-digit date flaw. A 1984 book, "Computers in Crisis," outlined how the year 2000 rollover could break financial, governmental, and technical systems if left unaddressed.

In the late 1990s, many feared this glitch could cause widespread failures in banking systems, power grids, transportation networks, and other critical infrastructure. This idea took hold of the public imagination, spawning doomsday predictions, a booming survivalist market, and a massive global push to audit and repair vulnerable systems before the deadline—work that cost an estimated $300B-$500B. 

Because of the extensive preparations, Y2K passed without significant disruptions, however, its legacy endures. The crisis helped modernize global IT systems, accelerated the outsourcing of programming jobs, and exposed society’s dependence on digital infrastructure—prompting long-term shifts in cybersecurity and software maintenance.

The Year 2038 problem is the next potential computer time rollover bug. Many older systems store time as a signed 32-bit integer counting seconds since Jan. 1, 1970. That counter maxes out on Jan. 19, 2038—overflowing into negative time and sending clocks back to 1901, potentially crashing any older software that depends on accurate dates. The Y2K38 bug is also known as the end of 32-bit Unix time and the year 2038 problem.

Times of Day

Why did humans need fixed times of the day, like "noon" and "midnight"? 

I was wondering about these terms and writing a post for my origins blog, and came across additional information beyond etymologies that I'll post here.

There are several answers to why humans needed fixed times of the day. We love to organize things, and communal life included religious rituals, markets, work schedules, and meetings, and those needed a shared system of timekeeping. 

Times of day allowed long-distance coordination as societies expanded and trade increased, people needed consistent points of reference—even if the Sun wasn’t visible.

Things like contracts, taxes, leases, transportation, and recordkeeping all require clear definitions of when one day ends and another begins. 

These official - and eventually precise - times of day enabled scientific and navigational progress since astronomy, calendars, and navigation at sea relied heavily on precise solar measurements—especially noon.

fixed times of day like noon and midnight to organize life around the natural rhythms of light, darkness, and the movement of the Sun. These terms didn’t appear all at once—they evolved over thousands of years as people developed more precise ways to measure time. 

Noon originally meant the moment when the Sun reached its highest point in the sky. This is now called "solar noon." This was a natural reference point for early societies: The Sun’s highest point was a dependable daily marker. It divided the daylight into “before” and “after.” Farmers, travelers, priests, and traders could all use it to coordinate activities. 

In ancient civilizations — Egypt, Mesopotamia, Greece, and Rome — solar noon was the anchor for their earliest "clocks" (like sundials). Even when mechanical clocks arrived in the Middle Ages, they were adjusted every so often to match the actual solar noon. 

 The word shifted over time: In medieval Latin and Old English, nona meant the ninth hour after sunrise (about 3 p.m.). Over centuries, the prayer schedules of monks shifted, and by the 14th–15th century, English speakers were using noon to mean 12:00.

Midnight is the natural opposite of noon, and after noon was defined as the midpoint of the daylight period; it made sense to divide the entire 24-hour cycle into two halves. Midnight became the point exactly opposite solar noon. A convenient boundary between one day and the next, and it was a reference point for the start of calendars, laws, and later, timetables. 

Before mechanical clocks, people didn’t think much about precise (hours and minutes), and night was divided into “watches,” or segments, mainly for keeping guard. Mechanical clocks (1300s onward) made a precise 12:00 a.m. possible. When time zones were standardized in the 19th century for railroads, midnight officially became the start of the civil day.