I have been trying and failing to write about Pete Seeger. I loved Pete Seeger.

When I was a small child, we had the children's album where he's sitting on a stool and there's a little girl sitting on a big chair next to him. That was me. At least, I pretended it was. I can remember curled up on the basement couch listening to Abiyoyo and being terrified and thrilled at the same time. I can remember dancing around the dining room table at the old house and stopping to cockadoodledoodledo with Pete. I remember learning This Land is Your Land at home and singing it again in the classroom.

As a teenager, I remember exploring my parents' albums and being floored by the power of the Weavers at Carnegie Hall. They could do so many emotions--sly and sexy with Kisses Sweeter than Wine; righteous and justified with Pay Me My Money Down; God lovin' and joyful with Children Go Where I Send Thee; and always fully committed. Before Kumbaya before a code word for forced togetherness and fake peace, Pete Seeger made it real for me, and it has stayed real--a real belief in community, a real commitment to peace.

One of my touchstone moments of college, one of the moments when I felt I could be an adult in the world was Thanksgiving break of my first year. I was going to school in Philadelphia, but I went to my grandparents' house on Long Island for the holiday. And I took myself and two friends into the city, to Carnegie Hall, to see Pete Seeger in concert. I felt so blessed that he was still alive, still singing, and my generation could join him.

I never stopped listening to Pete Seeger. I got more of his albums. I sang along with The Lion Sleeps Tonight, The Deep Muddy, and, of course, We Shall Overcome. I sat on the grass at the Bread and Roses Labor Day festival in Lowell and sang along. Twice I tried to write him letters to tell him how much he meant to me, but they never got finished, never sent.

Dear Pete Seeger,

Thank you for never giving up. Thank you for not giving in to the House UnAmerican Activities Committee and for living a life of dignity. Thank you for cleaning up the river. Thank for the twinkle in your eye. But most of all, thank you for the music.