I wrote this after watching a Netflix special about Glen Campbell and his Alzheimer’s disease, of which he ultimately dies on August 8, 2017). In celebration of still knowing that I remember things I forgot, forget things I want to remember and wonder why and where they go when I forget. This song is dedicated to Glen Campbell and all the remembering and forgetting and never knowing for certain quite why we do either.
I mean seriously, how is it I can remember a cigarette jingle from the 1960’s and forget a grand child’s birth date?
In the writing of this song I remembered a little girl named Tammy Holmes, when we were in 5th grade, we skipped school and made out all day long, nothing but kissing and petting over and over again, two young children exploring one another’s bodies and feelings…. why would I remember that as I am writing this song.
That memory reminded me of a woman named Tamara tha tI met in Salt Lake City, when when I was 30, and she was only 20. She was drop dead gorgeous. I remembered watching her sleep as moonlight through the rain on the window painted beautiful shadows on her naked body, why would I remember those things today after all these years???
I guess I was “Listening to the Mockingbird Sing Crow”
In the spring of 1972 my brother Danny Chapman came home from two tours in Vietnam. My family of origin is entrenched in a cult called Jehovah’s Witnesses . My mother talked Danny into going with us to church… fail!
Now let me digress, since then I have learned that Danny has suffered with severe PTSD. The things he experienced were from the thick of combat. So here he is fresh from battle. Jehovah’s Witnesses forbid a person to be involved with any war for any reason and if break this rule, you are “disfellowshipped” from the congregation, ostracized, disbanded, shunned or “dead to them” might be a better way to put it.
So here he was with the start of what would soon become massive PTSD, at an organized function of a cult that condemns him for where he has been the last four years. So “Brother Gilbert”, a sanctioned “elder” of the cult stands before the entire congregation and informs them that Danny was not to be welcomed or spoken to. Danny quickly left the building.
I was only 15, but I was mortified. I had noticed that Danny had changed since he came home, he was sad. There was pain in his eyes, I saw the difference and I intuitively knew that he was wounded. I followed him outside.
He was standing beside the building smoking. He was ranting one curse word after another, and I was agreeing all the way. I was embarrassed by the public humiliation that was cast upon my brother. But wait, that is not all, the man that ostracized and humiliated him? Just 12 years later was convicted of child molestation and ultimately convicted and jailed.
When this song came bubbling up from the depths of my mind, this memory over 43 years old began to surface. At first I wasn’t sure why I wrote this. But then as I sang and wrote, I remembered a story of a soldier watching his friends head get blown off. This poor fellow went on to become a homeless vet for years until a kind woman in a soup kitchen helped him find his footing, get clean and re-enter society.
I find life with all of its happiness, its many twist and turns, failures and tragedies to be the fundamental building blocks of character and beauty. These are the stones we were meant to cast, the stones of our foundation and wisdom. This is one of my favorite works for its content and meaning and profound effect on my family.
As I post this I am holding all of those closest to me, that have been in the trenches, literally and figuratively: Orlando, William, Danny, Lori (and many others) that stood in harms way, were wounded and then healed… thank you for all you do and have done.
I love you all!
A love song for my soon to be remodeled left knee!
A song can make a difference in our life. The tunes that play in our mind, followed by the words, can all affect our choices and as such our life.
I found the start of a song in a folder on my computer from many years ago. It was a song about a relationship that came to an abrupt end after a very heated argument one night. As I read the words, my artistic mind began to wonder what would have happened if we had not called it off so quickly, what if we had given it another go… who knows…
Don’t get me wrong, this was not a regret, nor was it a fantasy, it came with the realization that sometimes we end things before we actually know it is time.
I am a lucky man to have Joanne as my wife, I want to always honor and respect the best relationship I have ever been blessed enough to live in. It was this knowing that prompted me to want to rewrite this song from the perspective of how I handle my affairs now with Joanne. I don’t entertain the option (why would I?) to bail, quit, give up or threaten to do any sort of leaving. We are far enough along in our lives and love to know this is it, this is what we want and we honor and respect that with every fiber of our being.
So I re-wrote this song, as if it had happened to Joanne and I and I gave it a happy ending this time, because I truly believe that we are all writing the story of our lives. Everyday we ad a page and those pages turn into chapters and all of that together is who we are. We are the stories we tell, we are all telling stories or writing songs.
The longer I live, the more I love happy endings.
Huan Trafficking must be STOPPED—– PERIOD.