SOME SONGS DESERVE A SECOND, OR THIRD LISTEN

I was driving home from work a few weeks ago, listening to my music when a special song started to play.  As the song ended, I reached up and triggered the CD player in the car back a step to listen to the song again.  After the song began to come to a close, I once again clicked it back to listen to it again.  It came to me that I do this quite often and began to think about that.  I don't do that to every song that comes in the queue.  I then realized that there are certain songs that, when I hear them, one listen is not enough.  The songs ends too soon.  I began to take notice as to what songs effected me in this manner.  Usually the main reason I need to listen to a certain song more than once are the lyrics but the music itself plays a big part in what makes me listen two or three times.  I made a list in my mind of these songs and thought I might share with you a few of the songs that land somewhere deep in my mind to make me decide to listen again.

The song that started this whole thinking process was a song that I have loved since I was pre-teen.  It is Simon and Garfunkel's recording of Paul Simon's "I Am A Rock".  This song, as most of Paul Simon's compositions are, has a wonderful melody.  It is a beautiful song that starts with just Simon and his guitar then slowly builds in intensity until at the very end when it goes quiet and soft and the final few lyrics are sung with just the guitar once again.  It is the last track on the duo's "Sounds Of Silence" album and what a way to end an album that is mind provoking throughout.

The lyrics tell of a person who is a loner.  The words try to justify to himself why he is such and tries to convince him that he enjoys being that way.  It opens with a statement about where he finds himself at the time these thoughts creep into his mind:

A winter's day

In a deep and dark December

I am alone
Gazing from my window
To the streets below
On a freshly fallen, silent shroud of snow

A rather dark and bleak picture that tends to make a person do some deep thinking.  Then comes the chorus which states the self affirmation of the individual:

I am a rock
I am an island

A simple chorus.  It is only two short lines that are emphasized at the end of each statement that makes up a verse.  I am a rock. I am strong and can withstand anything the world throws at me.  I am an island. I am my own man, my own self and I go my own way.  I think for myself and am not a follower.  It is a powerful two lines that drive his thoughts home.

In between the restating of the chorus are lines that explain why he believes he is a rock, an island.

I've built walls
A fortress, steep and mighty
That none may penetrate
I have no need of friendship
Friendship causes pain
Its laughter and its loving I disdain

 I am a rock
I am an island

During the course of my life I have hid behind those self made walls.  It is difficult for people to get to know me.  I have spent years building them and over the last several years I have been trying to deconstruct them, to raze them though without much success.

Don't talk of love
Well, I've heard the words before
It's sleeping in my memory
I won't disturb the slumber
Of feelings that have died
If I never loved, I never would have cried

I have loved and lost at love before.  It does hurt.  I was lucky to find a lasting love when I met Barbara and it was good.  Three years ago in July I found myself losing love once again as Barbara passed away and once again, losing a love hurt.  This one almost crushed me.  I did cry.  I cried by myself in a darkened quiet house.  I still do every now and again.

I am a rock
I am an island

I have my books
And my poetry to protect me
I am shielded in my armor
Hiding in my room
Safe within my womb
I touch no one and no one touches me

Ah, books and poetry.  Yes I do have my books and I have poetry.  Robert Frost's writings have brought out feelings in me as long as I have been reading it seems.  John Steinbeck effects me much in the same way.  Poems and novels full of life, meaning and lessons to be learned.  I revisit them often.  Then I also have my music whether I am playing it or listening.  Music comforts me.  I find music almost everywhere I listen.  A train rolling down the tracks behind Paul's Drive-in blowing it's whistle, well I guess they aren't whistles anymore.  Horns.  Still it is a wonderful sound.  Music is everywhere if you listen and pay attention.  I can get lost in the music and the words that I have at my disposal.  They do protect me from what is out there.  My house is my "womb".  It is where I feel safe and am comfortable.  Not a lot of people get into my house anymore.  It is sanctuary to me.  For an individual to get into that inner sanctum, I seem to require that I can trust you with my special place.

I am a rock
I am an island

And then .... and then quietly he tells himself why he feels he has to be a rock.  Why he has to be an island.  The last few lines are sung softly with just a few quiet acoustic guitar chords that are even softer than the voice as he reflects on how he has to see himself in life.

And a rock feels no pain
And an island never cries 

I can't feel pain.  I can't afford to.  I will not cry for that would show the world too much of who I truly am, how I truly feel, how lonely I truly am.

Since I first heard this song I found that I saw a lot of myself in those words and thoughts.  As I grew older I could relate deeper with them.  When I hear that song, that wonderful beautiful song and I sing softly to myself along with the recording, I feel like I am that person and I am talking to myself.  For most people this song is not that high on the list of songs that people think of when someone mentions Paul Simon or Simon and Garfunkel.  It isn't "Bridge Over Troubled Water" or "The Sound Of Silence" but to me, it is probably one of the most honest songs that Paul Simon wrote.  And so I listen to it over, and over, and over ......

I almost feel like I could end this entry at this point.  It pretty much sums it up why I feel I have to listen to a song more than once.  However there are a few more songs that lose me in what they mean.

Warren Zevon.  That name may or may not be familiar to you.  He was a great pianist with a voice that is very distinctive in a Bob Dylan kind of way if you get my meaning. You might be familiar with his biggest selling song entitled "Werewolves Of London".  Yeah, that was the kind of songs he wrote for the most part.  As humorous and eclectic as his songwriting was, if you read between the lines, he always had a message in t here.  You had to search for that message pretty hard at times but the lessons were there.  He made quite a few appearances on The Letterman Show where he was able to reach people who otherwise never would hear many of his songs. His albums were not top sellers and not many of his songs cracked the top forty.  Then came 2002/2003 and his song writing became very retrospective.

In late 2002 Warren Zevon was diagnosed with Mesothelioma.  A cancer of the lungs.  Zevon was only 55 years old when diagnosed and that diagnoses would reach it's conclusion on September 7, 2003 when he was 56.  He decided to put out one more album.  The album titled "The Wind" was a work of passion.  His passion for life, poetry, music and love.  With this final chapter Zevon would bare his soul as he had never done before.  You did not have to read too deeply between the lines to get his message in these songs.  It is a beautiful album that is sad.  It is sad yet celebratory.  It is Warren looking back and looking forward and sharing what he sees and feels.

The song off of this swan song album is a message to his wife, friends and possibly his fans called "Keep Me In Your Heart For Awhile".  It is a song telling us he is dying and how he wants us to carry on after he is gone.  It really needs no explanation or interpretation.  It is clear what he is trying to say.  There is no word twisting or assimilation, just feelings straight from his gut and his heart.

Shadows are falling and I'm running out of breath
Keep me in your heart for awhile

If I leave you it doesn't mean I love you any less
Keep me in your heart for awhile

When you get up in the morning and you see that crazy sun
Keep me in your heart for awhile

There's a train leaving nightly called "when all is said and done"
Keep me in your heart for awhile

Sha-la-la-la-la-la-la-li-li-lo
Keep me in your heart for awhile

Sha-la-la-la-la-la-la-li-li-lo
Keep me in your heart for awhile

Sometimes when you're doing simple things
around the house
Maybe you'll think of me and smile

You know I'm tied to you like the buttons on
your blouse
Keep me in your heart for awhile

Hold me in your thoughts, take me to your dreams
Touch me as I fall into view
When the winter comes keep the fires lit
And I will be right next to you

Engine driver's headed north to Pleasant Stream
Keep me in your heart for awhile

These wheels keep turning but they're running out
of steam
Keep me in your heart for awhile

Sha-la-la-la-la-la-la-li-li-lo
Keep me in your heart for awhile

Sha-la-la-la-la-la-la-li-li-lo
Keep me in your heart for awhile

Keep me in your heart for awhile 

I'll be honest with you.  This song always brings a lump to my throat.  It is difficult for me to sing along to.  Most times I start to sing, but then I just listen to Warren opening up his thoughts and his heart to the world.  What a special message to leave his loved ones and friends.  "The Wind" is Zevon's farewell and this song sums up the entirety of the album.  Often when I listen to this song my mind wanders to Barbara.  This is what she would want me to do.  I know that.  "If I leave you it doesn't mean I love you any less".  I can hear Barb saying that to me.  "Sometimes when you're doing simple things around the house Maybe you'll think of me and smile".  I can hear her saying that as well and I do think of her and smile.  

Warren Zevon is no longer here on this earth.  The words of his farewell will live on for a long time though.  The words say more then even Zevon could put into words.  I have the feeling that as he finished this song he still probably thought it doesn't say what he is feeling quite strong enough.  And so I listen to this song over, and over and over ......

Leonard Cohen also did a swan song album before his death and I highly recommend to all my readers to listen to it if you get the chance.  It is a short album recorded in his apartment from his favorite chair in his last days.  It is a short album but powerful.  He speaks of his impending death, his faith, old loves and things he did not understand.  The name of this last album is "You Want It Darker". I'll give you just a small taste from "You Want It Darker".  This a verse from the song "Treaty" on that album.  Maybe it will give you a sense of Cohen at the end.

I've seen you change the water into wine
I've seen you change it back to water, too
I sit at your table every night
I try but I just don't get high with you
I wish there was a treaty we could sign
I do not care who takes this bloody hill
I'm angry and I'm tired all the time
I wish there was a treaty, I wish there was a treaty
Between your love and mine

I think Zevon's swan song serves this purpose and I have a quite a few Cohen songs that get repeated depending on my mood.  The one that I think really catches me is called "The Tower Of Song".   In this song Cohen gives us a peek into the mind of a songwriter.  He gives insight into sacrifices made for the craft.

Well my friends are gone and my hair is grey
I ache in the places where I used to play
And I'm crazy for love but I'm not coming on
I'm just paying my rent every day
Oh in the Tower of Song

The tower of song.  Writers often isolate while they are working.  They have a special room or house away from all the distractions of the world so their creativity can flow.  When he wrote this song he had been writing for a long time.  He was starting to age.  He has lost friends either to his art or death.  He wants love but he is too busy to bother with it.  The rent?  Every song he writes while locked away in the tower.

I said to Hank Williams: how lonely does it get?
Hank Williams hasn't answered yet
But I hear him coughing all night long
A hundred floors above me
In the Tower of Song 

This is one of my favorite verses in the song.  It suggests there in this tower, there is a hierarchy among the artists.  As great of a songwriter as Cohen was, he saw Hank Williams as ranking 100 floors above him.  That, my friends, is a humble man and that is what makes this verse, to me, so special.

I was born like this, I had no choice
I was born with the gift of a golden voice
And twenty-seven angels from the Great Beyond
They tied me to this table right here
In the Tower of Song

Again, his talent is not of his making.  It is a gift from God.  He felt blessed and grateful for this gift that came at such a price to him. He accepted the gift and paid the price.  That says a lot about who he was.

So you can stick your little pins in that voodoo doll
I'm very sorry, baby, doesn't look like me at all
I'm standing by the window where the light is strong
Ah they don't let a woman kill you
Not in the Tower of Song

Now you can say that I've grown bitter but of this you may be sure
The rich have got their channels in the bedrooms of the poor
And there's a mighty judgment coming, but I may be wrong
You see, you hear these funny voices
In the Tower of Song

I see you standing on the other side
I don't know how the river got so wide
I loved you baby, way back when
And all the bridges are burning that we might have crossed
But I feel so close to everything that we lost
We'll never, we'll never have to lose it again

These three verses spell out what that price was.  The sacrifice of losing loves many times.  The sorting out of the voices of creativity.  No woman can come between a songwriter and his songs.  In a way, the gift he was given was his true love I suppose.  It was what gave him pleasure.

Now I bid you farewell, I don't know when I'll be back
They're moving us tomorrow to that tower down the track
But you'll be hearing from me baby, long after I'm gone
I'll be speaking to you sweetly
From a window in the Tower of Song

Yeah my friends are gone and my hair is grey
I ache in the places where I used to play
And I'm crazy for love but I'm not coming on
I'm just paying my rent every day
Oh in the Tower of Song

And so the song ends.  Continuing to pay his rent in the tower creating songs and words until the day he died.  I think the reason this song connects with me is that need to create.   Now I am in no way saying I create as great as  Leonard Cohen did.  If Leonard Cohen thought that Hank Williams was a hundred floors above him, then Leonard Cohen is somewhere along the lines of an infinite number of floors above me.  But I do like to write.  I am not as talented with my writing as he was with his music, but it gives me pleasure.  I enjoy it.  I enjoy people reading my writing.  I feel like if I can contribute just a little something to someone's life, I may have accomplished something and so I listen to song over and over and over ....

Thinking about Hank Williams now since Mr. Cohen paid tribute to him in that last song.  Cohen was correct.  The world has produced some great songwriters over the centuries.  Some stand a little higher than others.  Gershwin, Carmichael, Rodgers and Hammerstein so many great songwriters that rank at the top not to mention the jazz and classical composers.  For my money, Hank Williams is right up there at the top with the best of them.  The lyrics that he writes are some of the most heart wrenching love songs ever written and the music that goes with those wonderful words, the melodies, is absolutely gorgeous.  Over the last 68 years since his death it seems like everyone in the music world has covered his songs and each time the song is beautiful.  Now that I think about it, it could be almost impossible to ruin a Williams song.  You can't help but find your soul being pulled into the songs whether listening or singing.  It grabs by the shirt collar and immerses you into the emotion that those songs carry with them.  My personal Hank tune and a song I consider one of the greatest popular songs ever written is "I'm So Lonesome I Could Cry".  Like Warren Zevon's song discussed earlier, this masterpiece does not need to be thought about what he is trying to say.  It is straight in your face as most of his numbers are.  Hank didn't play games with words.  He wrote what he felt and did it in such a way that it speaks to everyone who gives the time to listen.  So my friends, Hank Williams' "I'm So Lonesome I Could Cry"

Hear that lonesome whippoorwill
He sounds too blue to fly
The midnight train is whining low
I'm so lonesome I could cry

I've never seen a night so long
When time goes crawling by
The moon just went behind the clouds
To hide its face and cry

Did you ever see a robin weep
When leaves began to die?
Like me, he's lost the will to live
I'm so lonesome I could cry

The silence of a falling star
Lights up a purple sky
And as I wonder where you are
I'm so lonesome I could cry 

It is not a long song.  It is short and straight to the point.  It has that Hank Williams magic embedded into it and so I listen to this song over and over and over .....

I think you get the idea of why some songs, such  as these, make feel like I want more of that.  The song is over way too soon.  There are not a lot of songs that have this effect on me.  I would guess maybe 15 or less.  My mood at the time has a lot to do with it as well.  Some of those artist that I can say gives me a song or two include John Lennon, Bob Dylan, Jim Croce, John Denver, Joni Mitchell, Gordon Lightfoot, Harry Chapin, Graham Parsons, Neil Young (I really feel like I should have shared one of his songs.  Listen to "The Needle And The Damage Done" or "Long May You Run" to get a sampling).  These artists, these craftsmen have given the world a part of their soul.  I am so glad that they did that for us.  It is that part of themselves that dwell in some of these songs that make me listen to them over and over and over ....

MY MUSICAL INFLUENCES WHO HAVE PASSED

This is a lit of musicians who had a direct influence over my love of music so far during my lifetime and have passed on.  The list is by no means complete.  The names listed in all uppercase are the big guns, the ones that I felt their loss to the world was huge.  The ones who not only influenced me and the world, but influenced the direction of music.  These are the greats.

DUANE ALLMAN, Lynn Anderson, Louis Armstrong, Eddy Arnold, CHET ATKINS, Hoyt Axton, John Baldry, Mike Bloomfield, Marc Bolan, Tommy Bolin, John Bonham, Sonny Bono, Mike Botts, DAVID BOWIE, Delany Bramlett, Eric Braunn, James Brown, Jack Bruce, DAVE BRUBECK, Paul Butterfield, David Byron, Tommy Caldwell, Troy Caldwell, J.J.CALE, Jim Capaldi, Karen Carpenter, JOHNNY CASH, HARRY CHAPIN, RAY CHARLES, Clarence Clemons, Patsy Cline, Joe Cocker, Nat King Cole, Allen Collins, John Coltrane, SAM COOKE, Floyd Cramer, Papa John Creach, Jim Croce, King Curtis, Rick Danko, Bobby Darin, Hal David, Miles Davis, Jimmy Dean, John Denver, Bo Diddley, Lee Dorman, Donald Dunn, Jerry Edmonton, Duke Ellington, Cass Elliot, John Entwistle, Brian Epstein, Danny Federici, Freddy Fender, Dan Fogelberg, Tom Fogerty, Glenn Frey, Rory Gallagher, JERRY GARCIA, Marvin Gaye, Maurice Gibb, Robin Gibb, Gerry Goffin, Andrew Gold, Leslie Gore, Bill Graham, Dobi Gray, Rick Grech, Jimmy Greenspoon, James Griffin, James Gurley, Marvin Hamlisch, GEORGE HARRISON, Richie Havens, Isaac Hayes, LEVON HELM, JIMI HENDRIX, BUDDY HOLLY, JOHN LEE HOOKER, NICKY HOPKINS, Michael Jackson, WAYLON JENNINGS, Brian Jones, Davy Jones, JANIS JOPLIN, Paul Kantner, Terry Kath, Albert King, B.B. KING, Don Kirshner, Larry Knetchel, Ronnie Lane, Nicolette Larson, Peggy Lee, JOHN LENNON, Jon Lord, Richard Manuel, Ray Manzarek, BOB MARLEY, Steve Marriott, Dean Martin, Curtis Mayfield, Bob Mayo, Ian McLagan, Freddy Mercury, Mitch Mitchell, Keith Moon, JIM MORRISON, Dee Murray, Rick Nelson, HARRY NILSSON, LAURA NYRO, Berry Oakley, ROY ORBISON, Patti Page, Robert Palmer, Gram Parsons, LES PAUL, Dan Peek, Carl Perkins, John Phillips, Wilson Pickett, ELVIS PRESLEY, Billy Preston, Ray Price, Eddie Rabbit, Gerry Rafferty, Lou Rawls, Otis Redding, Jerry Reed, LOU REED, Jim Reeves, Paul Revere, Charlie Rich, Marty Robbins, Billy Joe Royal, David Ruffin, Dan Seals, PETE SEEGER, Joe Shermie, Del Shannon, FRANK SINATRA, Percy Sledge, Phoebe Snow, Joe South, Dusty Springfield, Chris Squire, B.W. Stevenson, Ian Stewart, Joe Tex, Mary Travers, Ronnie Van Zant, Stevie Ray Vaughan, Muddy Waters, Bob Welch, Cory Wells, HANK WILLIAMS, Johnny Winter, Bobby Womack, FRANK ZAPPA, WARREN ZEVON ........................

Like I said, not a complete list but for me, this list brings about a mish mash of styles in music that has shaped my wide appreciation of music.

The web site http://www.classicbands.com/heaven.html was a big help in constructing this list.  There is no way I could have remembered all of these influences over my lifetime.

JUST FACTS, NOT A "WOE IS ME" ENTRY

I don’t push people away …. I have got to be the most misunderstood person around.  Misunderstood or not known.  People don’t me.  Not the real me, the me that is deep inside, the me that they hurt without realizing it, the me that is taken advantage of constantly, the real me.

Sometimes, a lot of times, I just want to disappear.  I don’t like people.  I don’t like noise.  I don’t like being told what to do by ungrateful people.  I don’t like being ignored until it is convenient not to ignore me for a few minutes.

But it is ME that is at fault.  I don’t get it.  I do whatever I am asked and more.  “It is what it is”.  Things are what they are.  I didn’t see things evolving with people the way they have turned out to be.  It isn’t my fault that things are the way they are.  It isn’t my fault but I pay the price as though it were.

But I push people away.  I am there at the snap of a finger whenever anyone snaps their finger at me.  Is the fact that I really don’t ask anyone for anything mean I am pushing them away?  No.  It means I want to live and die on my own.  On my own conditions, time table, and where I want to.

“I ain’t asking nobody for nothing if I can get it on my own.  If you don’t like the way that I’m living, you just leave this long haired country boy alone.” (Charlie Daniels)  What is wrong with not enjoying getting my hair cut?  I have ALWAYS hated to get my hair cut.  Not because I want it long or am trying to make a statement, I just do not like the feeling of getting my hair cut.  It means nothing more than that.  I don’t like to shave.  Does that make me a mountain man or something because I don’t like to shave?  It simply means I do not like to shave.  Hate it.

Who am I kidding, they won’t miss me one bit.  No one will. And I don’t care if they do or not.

“From now on all my friends are gonna be strangers.  I'm all through, ever trusting anyone.  The only thing I can count on now is my fingers,  I was a fool …” (Haggard)

Is it strange that I use music to do a lot of my talking for me?  Probably is, but I don’t care.  I can relate to some of these songwriters, philosophers …. They say some pretty honest things in their songs.  Brutally honest.  So honest it makes you think … “wow .. oh man … he knows me …”  The people that seem to know me best are people that don’t know I exist, and I mean they actually don’t know I am around, not like those that know I am around but until they need something, don’t know I exist.   The people that know me best … let’s see… Hank of course, Haggard, Willie, Paul Simon, Dylan, Lennon, Seger, Chapin, Kristofferson, Kooper,  the boss, Levon Helm and Robbie Robertson,  David Gates and James Griffin,  Billy Joel to a degree, Cat Stevens, Neil Young,  McLean, Don Henly, Greg Lake, Clapton,  Jackson Browne,  Mellencamp, Leon, Zevon … list could go on forever.

This sounds like a “Woe is me..” thing.  It isn’t.  It is fact.  Pure logical fact.

The time that I feel I can be truly me, without judgment from others, when I can find that solace that I crave, is late at night by myself either reading, watching a documentary or a movie, or lying in my little bed with the earbuds on.  Most times I listen to music, but a lot of times I listen to Supreme Court Arguments, or Kevin and Mosh, or TESD.  I love documentaries and I love movies and something by Charlyne Yi or an episode of House or one of the Law and Orders.  It is sad to think that Bruce, Carlin and Hicks are gone.  They were able to use fact, logic, and tell the truth about how crazy this world, or life can be.  A lot of the things that those three said are funny on the surface, but if you really break it down to what they are saying, it is kind of sad in a way.  The truth seems to always be sad.

My grandfather.  Oscar Laclede Hill.  The closest thing to perfect as a man can be, right?  We all look up to him and his life and what we knew about him and his wisdom.  He was far from the picture that we paint of him in our memories.  He once told me that even as much as we talked, there were things in his life he was ashamed of.  Things he would never tell another human being.  There were a lot of things that I would never know about him and that was just the way it was going to be.  I often wonder about the afternoon he told me that.  Why he told me that and what some of those things could be.  I don’t have a clue, and that was how he wanted it.  Doesn’t mean he was a fake or lived a lie, he still was a very good man, but there was that part of the REAL Oscar Hill that nobody knew, or would ever know.  I wonder if his wife even knew.

As I get older, there seems to be less and less people to look up to.  When I was a young boy, I looked up to my grandfather and my dad and a host of baseball players that I knew only from watching them on the field.  They were classy men, these ball players.  Dick Green, Campy Campanaris, Carl Yastrzemski, Brooks and Frank Robison, Hank Aaron, Noland Ryan, Roger Maris, Curt Flood and Bob Gibson, Al Kaline and Bill Freehan, Rick Monday and again, the list could go on and on.  I don’t look up to sport figures anymore.  I admire their ability and talent and the way they act on the field, but over the years the reality that they are just ordinary people that has a part of them hidden away that no one knows, has come to be reality for me.

Now who do I look up to … well, my grandfather and my father.  Some those song writers mentioned earlier who had the guts to post about reality as they saw it.  I don’t look up to politicians and especially Presidents.  Everyone is hiding something.  Nobody is fully themselves.  Nobody really knows anybody.  I suppose that is one way we all get along.  Hide a lot of ourselves so people only see the best we can put out there.  Sometimes, for some of us, even the best we can put out there is pretty bad.

I’ll tell you who I look up to.  One person I look up to is Rachel Gibson.  A fine young lady who left this world far before the world was ready for her to leave.  She was brave.  She was strong.  She kept her faith. And she comforted those who she was preparing to leave behind.  I admired that young lady long before she entered into the last phase of her life here on earth.   Now I am sure that Rachel had her faults just as all of us do, she was human after all.  But her being human was surpassed by her ability to be humane.

Another person I look up to is Caleb Hill.  Caleb is my cousin’s son.  Caleb was born with Down Syndrome which is what makes Caleb even more of a person to look up to then he would have been if he had not been born with the syndrome.  Caleb is intelligent.  Caleb is caring and loving.  Caleb is honest.  Caleb looks at life with thankfulness and lives life the way life should probably be lived by all of us.  Caleb has found inner strength to bypass the syndrome as best as he can and he does a great job of it.  Honesty like Caleb’s is something all of us could strive for, but we don’t and we won’t.

I look up to my niece Kimberly Porter, her husband Shawne and two wonderful kids that they adopted from China, Joshua and Mei.  The challenges that happen on a daily basis for Kimberly and especially Mei, would wear the normal person out and have an urge to just give up.  Not Kim though.  She is unbeatable when it comes to raising her kids and helping them face each day on a day to day basis.  Shawne is just as strong as Kim and just as dedicated to those two kids.  I admire both of them.  All four of them.

There are other people out there that I could say I look up to for various reasons.  One thing they all have in common though is that there is a part of them the world will never ever see.

Okay.  Stop and re-read what I have written so I know how I got to where I am in this thing.  Took a HUGE left turn back there somewhere.

Well, it turned into a bunch of rambling.  People do not understand why I feel or think the way I do.  I don’t either.  I try to be a good person, I try to live up to the ideals I see as making a person good, but I fall short.  We all do.  We all will.   I am not a happy person.  I find less joy in life than most people and I don’t understand it.  When something bad or not so good does happen to me, it seems to affect me a lot harder than it would other people.  I don’t understand it.  I feel it.  I know it is there.  But I don’t understand it.

There are times, many times, when I just want to go to my bed and just sleep.  Sleep more, and more and more.  Just sleep so I don’t have to deal with anything or anyone. Just sleep and let time flow by without me being aware of it passing.  Forever.

MUSIC IS A PHOTO ALBUM OF THE MIND

There are many forms of art.  There is sculpture, painting, writing, fashion.  They all have their special qualities.  You can read a book and the story may or may not stick with you.  A book may effect your life in some way as it can change the way you look at things and the way you think.  A painting or sculpture can either overwhelm you with it's beauty or simplicity.  Film can live in your mind for years and if it is a good enough film, may even stay with you the rest of your life.  But one form of art is like a time machine taking you back in time to certain moments in your life.  That art form is music.

Music is magical.  Music marks special events in our lives that stay in our memories forever.  A special moment occurs in life and chances are there was a song playing in the background.  After that moment in time, every time you hear that song, chances are you will be taken back to that special time. More than any other form of art,  music lives within each of us.

I have told some stories on this blog about music and the events surrounding when I heard that song.  Sometimes it is an event that is occurring the very first time you hear a song.  Other times you could hear a song many times but at some point something special was happening when that old song was being played.

I can look back on so many times that a song came along and is forever branded in my mind with an event.

One of Harry Chapin's last albums was entitled "Dance Band On The Titanic".  Whenever I hear that song I get a picture of Ronnie and myself sitting on the floor of his bedroom shortly before he left to join the US Army.  Ronnie had picked up about three albums that night and songs from all of those albums bring that special night when we sat and listened to new music without much talking.  It was a special evening for us.  We had spent most of our teen years listening to music together either at his house or mine.  We had discovered a lot of music together, but this night was different.

I hear Chapin songs off of that album or Jackson Browne's "Running On Empty" Album and I am immediately in Ronnie's room.  Shag carpet on the floor.  The music not to loud.  Reading the liner notes of these albums only talking between songs debating on which song was best so far.  We spent half the night listening to those albums.

When I hear the classic IN-A-GADDA-DA-VIDA I am taken to an earlier time with Ronnie in a different house.  At that time, he had a big console stereo in his room that really brought out the bass as the song was played.  It was seventeen minutes of hard rock and roll that made no sense what so ever, but we loved it and when I hear that song, again I am back with Ronnie playing air guitars and keyboards as the Iron Butterfly go through the excersize of stretching a rather monotonous rift out to those seventeen minutes.

One Saturday afternoon I went to visit Larry.  As I walked into the house, I heard Johnny Cash for the first time that I remember.  "I hear the train a comin', It's coming round the bend....." went the song and Larry's dad was sitting in his chair tapping his foot and ignoring me as I entered his home.

The first time I heard Led Zeppelin's fourth album was at a party of one of Barb's friends.  We were early to the party and I had just bought the album that day.  I put it on the stereo and as the girls prepared for the party,  Larry and I sat and listened to one of the all time greatest rock albums ever produced.  Then suddenly in the middle of the second song on the first side, I heard a sound that every audiophile hates to hear.  "Rrrrrriiiiiiippppp" as the tone arm was removed from my brand new album and then I heard "We've Only Just Begun" by the Carpenters start to play.  I get a picture of Larry's face as he looked at me in shock probably mirroring the same expression I was giving him.  Whenever I hear those two songs, that picture pops into my head.

I wrote earlier in the blog about going to see the Allman Brothers Band and walking around the concourse as a the song "Midnight Rider" was being played.  The picture I get in my mind is Larry and myself looking at each other with that same shocked expression that we had the night of the Led Zeppelin incident.

I get a picture of seeing my dad sitting and listening to Jimmy Dean sing on our old mono record player.  Whenever I hear Jimmy Dean or Jim Nabors I get that same picture in my mind of dad sitting there enjoying the music.  He didn't sit and listen to music that often because he was always too busy, but when he did sit and listen, he would sit still with a hint of a smile on his face as he enjoyed the music.

There was an old old song called "Barney Google" that I had learned to play on the piano.  My Grandma Clark was over at mom and dad's one Christmas in which I had gotten Brett some of those glasses with eyeballs attached to coils so the eyes would swing around while he wore them.  I called them his Barney Google glasses and told my Grandma this.  Before I knew it, my grandmother was singing along, not missing a word and tapping her hands on her thighs while tapping her feet.  She had a HUGE smile on her face as she belted out the song,  She was almost to the point of laughing as she sang that old song.

One year, somebody gave my grandfather a music box that played "Somewhere My Love".  I have a very clear picture of him sitting in his chair listening to the music box puffing on his pipe with a far away look in his eye.  He loved that song among many others.  I have lots of snapshots in my mind of grandpa listening to music.

Another very clear picture was when my aunt Sue and myself were about seven years old.  My great aunt Margaret was chasing us around the house with her arms out stretched singing "Let Me Call You Sweetheart" over and over again.

When I hear "The Missouri Waltz" I see my sister sitting at the piano playing it flawlessly and making it sound so beautiful.  It doesn't matter if it is Marching Mizzou playing the waltz, when I hear that song a picture of Elaine sitting in the living room playing it pops into my head.

When I hear Bread's "Baby I'm A Want you"album I find myself upstairs at grandma and grandpa's sitting with my aunt Sue playing a game of cards.

When the song "Then Came You" enters into my head, I remember one evening when Barb looked at me while it was playing and telling me that it was our song.  I am not sure WHY it was our song, but to her it was, and that was important.  Over the years it has indeed became our song and a picture of her looking at me when we were so young and the look in her eyes as she told me.

I could go on and on with examples.  Some more recent than others.  Springteen's "Human Touch", McClean's "Crossroads",  oh and of course Three Dog Night's "Joy To The World".  That song has over the years became a sort of secret joke between my mom and me.  I use to play it on the piano or play the record constantly and she swore she couldn't stand it.  Personally, even though she still swears she can't deal with the song, I think she has come to like it because of the picture that is in her mind when she hears it.

Music effects us all differently.  Most songs we hear are forgotten, but those special songs that serve as bookmarks in our lives, stay with us forever.  I believe everyone has a musical photo album in our minds.  Enjoy that photo album.  It brings more of your life back to you than anything else.

I know I enjoy my musical photo album and I wouldn't trade it for the world.

A BETTER PLACE TO BE

Eddie Harper found himself in his mid fifties and alone.  People said he was an alcoholic and maybe they were right.  Looking back over things he could see how his drinking had cost him his wife and family and a good job many years ago.

He found himself working at Miller's Tool and Die, a small machine shop that was in the bad part of town.  He had been hired as the night security guard to protect the business from vandals and graffiti artists.  It was a huge drop from his accounting job that he had held some fifteen years before.  He found that the booze had made him a loser in the eyes of women and so now he was alone.

He lived in a small boarding house in a little one room with a shared toilet.  It wasn't exactly the way he had envisioned his life playing out.  Now he was alone and lonely and only imagined striking up conversations with women that he would see at the diner where he ate his meals or the bar that he went to when he got off work.

The bar he went to opened at ten in the morning.  Technically it was a bar and grill set up and stayed open until three in the morning.  A few days ago after a morning of drinking at the bar then going home drunk, he had slept past the time he was to be at work.  The boss had given him a warning that his job could be in danger if he was late many more times because of drinking.  He had decided to go on the wagon once again and for what seemed to be the hundredth time, try to clean his act up.

He had stayed away from the bar for about a week having breakfast after work a the diner and avoiding the bar all together.  Then last week he was at the diner and saw one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen.  In his mind he imagined striking up a conversation with her that ended with her going back to his room to spend the day. It was a wonderful fantasy that almost seemed too real.  As the woman finished her meal and left he realized that he would  spend the rest of his life alone.  He no longer had the courage to even say hi to anyone like that.  What the hell he decided.  Not drinking was making things worse then better and so on this morning he found himself back at the bar and grill, depressed about his life and drinking gin at ten in the morning.

As he came into the barroom the waitress got him a glass of gin out of habit.  She had noticed that Eddie hadn't been there for awhile and asked him where had been.  Eddie ignored her questioning, too busy wallowing in his own self pity of the realization of being alone as a way of life for him until he would die.  The waitress told him that if he didn't want to talk, that was fine with her, but she was there to listen if he felt like talking.

Eddie sat there quietly and the fantasy from the diner reentered his mind.  The beautiful woman and how he had fantasized about taking her home.  He took a drink and then decided to tell the waitress about the fantasy.

As he began to talk the waitress came over and leaned on the bar listening to his story.  As she listened she could almost feel the pain in his voice.  He told her about approaching the woman and talking to her and how she had asked him to take her home with him and spend some time with him.  He talked with such passion that the waitress believed that he was relating a real part of his life, not realizing it was all a fantasy.  As Eddie finished the story with the woman slipping out on him while he was gone to get her something to eat.  In his fantasy she had left him a note and he knew he would never see this lovely woman again.  As he finished, she refilled his glass with gin and he began sipping on it.

After he had taken a couple of drinks from the glass he looked up at the waitress and noticed that she had a tear in her eye.  She began telling him that she knew how he felt.  She was lonely too.  She was not the kind of woman that men easily approached with conversation.  She felt like it was because she was a little overweight and not that good looking.   She expressed to him that people like them were not meant to be alone, it was something that life had just laid on them.  The waitress sadly said that it was too bad that people like themselves were meant to be so alone that they probably wouldn't even find another like themselves.  Another lonely soul that just wanted to be loved and have someone to spend time with.  She sometimes wished that she would have someone who would meet her when she got off work and go home with her to take away the loneliness.

Eddie listened to her as she expressed her frustration with life and relationships.  He began to formulate an idea.  The more he thought about it the more it seemed like this was something that could happen and it brought a small smile to his face.  He finished his drink and looked into her eyes.  He took her hand and stare at her trying to get his courage up.  Finally he asked her what time she would be off work.  She told him that she worked until five that evening.  He finally took a deep breath and looked down at the bar and in a soft shaky voice he told her, " I ain't got no place to go.  If you want, I can pick you up after work tonight.  Where I am at now, any place is a better place to be."

As the waitress watched Eddie leave the bar she smiled and her whole day changed.  She understood exactly what he was saying.  When you got no place to go, any place is indeed a better place to be.


A Better Place to be
by Harry Chapin
 
It was an early morning bar room,
And the place just opened up.
And the little man come in so fast and
Started at his cup.
And the broad who served the whisky
She was a big old friendly girl.
And she tried to fight her empty nights
By smilin' at the world.
And she said "Hey Bub, It's been awhile
Since you been around.
Where the hell you been hidin' ?
And why you look so down ?"
But the little man just sat there like he'd never heard a sound.
The waitress she gave out with a cough,
And acting not the least put off,
She spoke once again.
She said, "I don't want to bother you,
Consider it's understood.
I know I'm not no beauty queen,
But I sure can listen good."
And the little man took his drink in his hand
And he raised it to his lips.
He took a couple of sips.
And he told the waitress this story.
"I am the midnight watchman down at Miller's Tool and Die.
And I watch the metal rusting, and I watch the time go by.
A week ago at the diner I stopped to get a bite.
And this here lovely lady she sat two seats from my right.
And Lord, Lord, Lord she was alright.
"Oh she was so damned beautiful that she'd warm a winter's frost.
But she was long past lonely, and well nigh unto lost.
Now I'm not much of a mover, or a pick-em-up easy guy,
But I decided to glide on over, and give her one good try.
And Lord, Lord, Lord she was worth a try.
"Tongued-tied like a school boy, I stammered out some words.
But it did not really matter much, 'cause I don't think she heard.
She just looked clear on through me to a space back in my head.
And it shamed me into silence, as quietly she said,
'If you want me to come with you, then that's all right with me.
Cause I know I'm going nowhere, and anywhere's a better place to be.
Anywhere's a better place to be.'
"I drove her to my boarding house, and I took her up to my room.
And I went to turn on the only light to brighten up the gloom.
But she said, 'Please leave the light off, Oh I don't mind the dark.'
And as her clothes all tumbled 'round her, I could hear my heart.
The moonlight shown upon her as she lay back in my bed.
It was the kind of scene I only had imagined in my head.
I just could not believe it, to think that she was real.
And as I tried to tell her she said 'Shhh.. I know just how you feel.
And if you want to come here with me, then that's all right with me.
'Cause I've been oh so lonely, lovin' someone is a better way to be.
anywhere's a better way to be.'
"The morning come so swiftly but I held her in my arms.
But she slept like a baby, snug and safe from harm.
I did not want to share her with the world or break the mood,
So before she woke I went out and brought us both some food.
"I came back with my paper bag, to find out she was gone.
She'd left a six word letter saying 'It's time that I moved on.'"
The waitress took a bar rag, and she wiped it across her eyes.
And as she spoke her voice came out as something like a sigh.
She said "I wish that I was beautiful, or that you were halfway blind.
And I wish I weren't so dog-gone fat, I wish that you were mine.
And I wish that you'd come with me, when I leave for home.
For we both know all about loneliness, and livin' all alone."
And the little man,
Looked at the empty glass in his hand.
And he smiled a crooked grin,
He said, " I guess I'm out of gin.
And know we both have been so lonely.
And if you want me to come with you, then that's all right with me.
'Cause I know I'm goin' nowhere and anywhere's a better place to be."

Dance Band On The Titanic - Harry Chapin

Dance band on the Titanic
Sing "Nearer, my God, to Thee"
The iceberg's on the starboard bow
Won't you dance with me

Mama stood cryin' at the dockside
Sayin' "Please son, don't take this trip"
I said "Mama, sweet Mama, don't you worry none"
"Even God couldn't sink this ship"

Well, the whistle blew and they turned the screws
It turned the water into foam
Destination sweet salvation
Goodbye home sweet home

I'm in the dance band on the Titanic
Sing "Nearer, my God, to Thee"
The iceberg's on the starboard bow
Won't you dance with me

There was a trombone and a saxophone
The bass and drums were cookin' up the bandstand
And I was strummin' in the middle with this dude on the fiddle
And we were three days out from land

And now the foghorn's jammed and moanin'
Hear it groanin' through the misty night
I heard the lookout shout down "There's icebergs around"
"But still everything's all right"

Oh, the dance band on the Titanic
Sing "Nearer, my God, to Thee"
The iceberg's on the starboard bow
Won't you dance with me

They were burnin' all the flares for candles
In the banquet they were throwin' in first class
And we were blowin' waltzes in the barroom
When the universe went CRASH!

"There's no way that this could happen"
I could hear the old captain curse
He ordered lifeboats away, that's when I heard the chaplain say
"Women and children and chaplains first"

Well, they soon used up all of the lifeboats
But there were a lot of us left on board
I heard the drummer sayin' "Boys, just keep playin'"
"Now we're doin' this gig for the Lord"

I heard the dance band on the Titanic
Sing "Nearer, my God, to Thee"
The iceberg's on the starboard bow
Won't you dance with me

There's a wild-eyed boy in the radio shack
He's the last remaining guest
He was tappin' in a Morse code frenzy
Tappin' "Please God, S.O.S."

Jesus Christ can walk on the water
But a music man will drown
They say that Nero fiddled while Rome burned up
Well, I was strummin' as the ship go down

I'm in the dance band on the Titanic
Sing "Nearer, my God, to Thee"
The iceberg's on the starboard bow
Won't you dance with me

Dance band on the Titanic
Sing "Nearer, my God, to Thee"
The iceberg's on the starboard bow
Won't you dance with me

Dance band on the Titanic
Sing "Nearer, my God, to Thee"
The iceberg's on the starboard bow
Won't you dance with me

Flowers Are Red - Harry Chapin

Flowers are Red
by Harry Chapin
 
The little boy went first day of school
He got some crayons and started to draw
He put colors all over the paper
For colors was what he saw

And the teacher said.. What you doin' young man
I'm paintin' flowers he said
She said... It's not the time for art young man
And anyway flowers are green and red

There's a time for everything young man
And a way it should be done
You've got to show concern for everyone else
For you're not the only one

And she said...
Flowers are red young man
Green leaves are green
There's no need to see flowers any other way
Than they way they always have been seen

But the little boy said...
There are so many colors in the rainbow
So many colors in the morning sun
So many colors in the flower and I see every one

Well the teacher said.. You're sassy
There's ways that things should be
And you'll paint flowers the way they are
So repeat after me.....

And she said...
Flowers are red young man
Green leaves are green
There's no need to see flowers any other way
Than they way they always have been seen

But the little boy said...
There are so many colors in the rainbow
So many colors in the morning sun
So many colors in the flower and I see every one

The teacher put him in a corner
She said.. It's for your own good..
And you won't come out 'til you get it right
And are responding like you should

Well finally he got lonely
Frightened thoughts filled his head
And he went up to the teacher
And this is what he said.. and he said

Flowers are red, green leaves are green
There's no need to see flowers any other way
Than the way they always have been seen

Time went by like it always does
And they moved to another town
And the little boy went to another school
And this is what he found

The teacher there was smilin'
She said...Painting should be fun
And there are so many colors in a flower
So let's use every one

But that little boy painted flowers
In neat rows of green and red
And when the teacher asked him why
This is what he said.. and he said

Flowers are red, green leaves are green
There's no need to see flowers any other way
Than the way they always have been seen.

Flowers Are Red Video

My Grandfather - Harry Chapin

"My grandfather was a painter. He died at age eighty-eight, he illustrated Robert Frost's first two books of poetry and he was looking at me and he said, 'Harry, there are two kinds of tired: there's good-tired, and there's bad-tired.' He said, 'Ironically enough, bad-tired can be a day that you won. But you won other people's battles, you lived other people's days, other peoples agendas, other people's dreams and when it was all over there was very little "you" in there, and when you hit the hay at night, somehow you toss and turn--you don't settle easy.' He said, 'Good-tired, ironically enough, can be a day that you lost. But you don't have to tell yourself, 'cause you knew you fought your battles, you chased your dreams, you lived your days, and when you hit the hay at night, you settle easy--you sleep the sleep of the just, and you can say "take me away."' He said, 'Harry, all my life I've painted. God, I would've loved to be more successful, but I painted and I painted, and I am good-tired and they can take me away.'

Now, if there is a process in your and my lives in the insecurity that we have about a prior life or an afterlife and God--I hope there is a God. If He is-- if He does exist He's got a rather weird sense of humor, however. But let's just-- But if there's a process that will allow us to live our days and will allow us that degree of equanimity towards the end, looking at that black, implaccable wall of death, to allow us that degree of peace, that degree of non-fear, I want in."

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zbpoUWO3kA8