Proud Mary, Me, and the American Dream
There are songs you like.
There are songs you love.
And then there are songs that quietly become part of your life's soundtrack.
For me, that song has always been Proud Mary.
It was sometime in the early 1970s. I was probably in the fourth grade when I heard it for the very first time. It came spinning out of an old vinyl record player, and from the very first note, something happened. I didn't understand every word. I had no idea who Creedence Clearwater Revival was. I didn't know what a bayou was, and I certainly had never seen a riverboat.
But I knew one thing.
This was special.
In fact, Proud Mary was only the second English song I had ever heard in my life. The very first?
"Jesus Loves Me, This I Know."
Looking back, I smile at the order. One introduced me to the love of Christ. The other introduced me to a rhythm that would stay with me for more than fifty years.
We didn't have a large music collection at home. There weren't hundreds of records to choose from. Which meant Proud Mary got played... and played... and played again.
If Spotify had existed back then, my year-end recap would simply have said:
"You listened to Proud Mary 9,482 times this year."
The record sleeve didn't even have a picture of the band. I had absolutely no idea what John Fogerty or the other members of CCR looked like. For all I knew, they could have been seven feet tall or looked like my next-door American Missionary neighbors.
But one thing I knew beyond doubt...
These guys could make music.
Now, I should also confess something.
I had pretty light feet.
(Please excuse my modesty.)
Every time Proud Mary came on, I danced.
One day, a group of Americans visited my mother. Someone thought it would be entertaining if this little Indian boy danced for them while Proud Mary played in the background.
So there I was...
One skinny Indian kid, doing what I thought were spectacular Indian dance moves to an American rock song.
Those wonderful Americans laughed until they nearly cried.
I hope they were laughing with me.
Even more fascinating to me was watching them sing every single word of the song. I couldn't understand why everyone seemed to know it.
That's when I first realized...
This wasn't just another song.
It was part of America's heartbeat.
Years rolled by.
The vinyl became cassette tapes.
Cassette tapes became CDs.
CDs became digital playlists.
But somehow, Proud Mary never got old.
If anything, it sounded even better.
Then came one of my favorite conversations.
I was in my early twenties when my older brother—who worked as a sailor and had seen much more of the world than I had—came home and found me listening to CCR.
He looked at me, shook his head, and asked,
"Are you STILL listening to Proud Mary?"
Before I could answer, he continued...
"How long are you going to keep listening to this on tapes? Get your act together. Move on in life... CCR is pretty awesome in live concerts you gotta watch them live!"
At the time, it sounded impossible.
Watching Creedence Clearwater Revival live felt about as realistic as playing football with Pelé.
But dreams have funny ways of waiting patiently.
As I grew older, every CCR song seemed to find me at a different season of life.
Lodi became deeply personal. Every time I heard Fogerty sing,
"Oh Lord, I'm stuck in Lodi again..."
I couldn't help but think of my own journey—searching, striving, and often chasing what felt like that elusive pot of gold. Like so many young people, I thought happiness was always somewhere just beyond the next promotion, the next achievement, or the next destination. Looking back now, I smile because the greatest treasures in my life were never found at the end of the rainbow. They were found in faith, family, football, friendships, and the countless blessings God had already placed along the way.
Then there is Have You Ever Seen the Rain—one of the most beautifully written songs ever recorded. It is one of those rare songs that seems to grow with you. Every season of life gives it a different meaning. Joy and sorrow somehow live together in the same melody. Great songs entertain us. Timeless songs make us stop and think. For me, this has always been one of those timeless songs.
And every time I hear Cotton Fields, my thoughts quietly drift to my late beloved mother.
She wasn't from the cotton fields of Louisiana, but she understood hard work, sacrifice, and simple living better than anyone I've ever known. She never left behind wealth in the world's eyes. Instead, she left something infinitely more valuable—a steadfast faith in Jesus Christ, a servant's heart, and a legacy of compassion that continues to inspire me every day. Somehow, whenever that song plays, she walks back into my memories, and for a few precious moments, I find myself smiling through tears.
People often ask why I wanted to come to America.
There were many reasons.
Opportunity.
Education.
Career.
Freedom.
The American Dream.
But tucked away somewhere on that list was a delightfully unreasonable dream...
One day, I wanted to hear John Fogerty sing Proud Mary live.
Years later, life surprised me in the most beautiful way.
The very first English song I ever learned was "Jesus Loves Me." Looking back now, I realize that wasn't a coincidence. The God who introduced Himself to me through that little hymn has been writing my story ever since.
As the Psalmist wrote,
"Delight yourself in the Lord, and He will give you the desires of your heart." — Psalm 37:4
I have found that promise to be wonderfully true—not because God gives us everything we ask for, but because He lovingly plants beautiful desires in our hearts and, in His perfect time, delights in fulfilling them.
A few years ago, by His grace, I found myself standing in America watching John Fogerty walk onto the stage.
I wasn't simply attending a concert.
I was watching God fulfill a dream that had quietly begun with a spinning vinyl record in a little Indian home more than fifty years earlier.
When he started singing, I wasn't just hearing music.
I was hearing fifty years of memories.
I was back in that little room with the vinyl record.
Back dancing without a care in the world.
Back watching Americans sing every word.
Back dreaming dreams that seemed impossibly big for a little boy growing up in India.
What incredible music!
Of course, Proud Mary will always be my favorite.
But then there are Bad Moon Rising, Have You Ever Seen the Rain, Lodi, Down on the Corner, Fortunate Son, Green River, Cotton Fields, and so many others.
John Fogerty didn't just write songs.
He wrote memories.
One of the greatest joys today is watching the next generation discover them.
Both of my daughters—proud members of Generation Z—absolutely love CCR.
In fact, they often joke that they genuinely feel sorry for kids who have never experienced Creedence Clearwater Revival.
I couldn't agree more.
Now comes the best part.
John Fogerty is back in town next week.
This time, all of us are going together.
Three generations...
One soundtrack.
I've already peeked at his recent setlists, and if history repeats itself, he'll probably kick things off with Bad Moon Rising.
Truth be told, I've already attended this concert a hundred times in my mind this week.
And when those familiar opening notes of Proud Mary finally begin, I know exactly what will happen.
I'll no longer be the CPA.
I won't be the father.
I won't even be thinking about the American Dream.
For just a few minutes...
I'll be that little fourth-grade boy again, dancing without a care in the world to a song he didn't fully understand—but one that somehow understood him.
Funny how one song can cross oceans, cultures, languages, and generations.
It connected a little Indian boy to a country he had never seen.
It survived vinyl records, cassette tapes, CDs, MP3 players, streaming services, and more than half a century of life.
It became part of my family.
Part of my faith.
Part of my American journey.
And part of my story.
Thank you, John Fogerty.
Thank you for writing music that doesn't simply entertain—it travels with people through life.
Thank you for unknowingly giving a little Indian boy permission to dream.
You didn't just keep Proud Mary rollin'.
You helped a dream roll across continents, across generations, and all the way into the heart of the American Dream.
Keep rockin', John.
And yes... Proud Mary is still rollin'. So am I.
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