Attics of My Life

Listen while you read:  Grateful (but not) Dead (yet)

In the attics of my life
Full of cloudy dreams unreal
Full of tastes no tongue can know
And lights no eye can see
When there was no ear to hear
You sang to me

I have spent my life
Seeking all that's still unsung
Bent my ear to hear the tune
And closed my eyes to see
When there were no strings to play
You played to me

In the book of love's own dreams
Where all the print is blood
Where all the pages are my days
And all my lights grow old
When I had no wings to fly
You flew to me
You flew to me

In the secret space of dreams
Where I dreaming lay amazed
When the secrets all are told
And the petals all unfold
When there was no dream of mine
You dreamed of me

~  Robert Hunter & Jerry Garcia (for The Grateful Dead)

So what are attics for? I guess basically, attics are a place to put stuff. Things that are no longer used or needed (but could be again one day). Things that are seasonal, like holiday decorations. Things that have sentimental value, things that one just can't say goodbye to. Let's go with the last one. Today, I am tasked with saying goodbye to this blog, and consequently, saying goodbye to those of you who have honored me by reading it. But don't worry, I'm not going to kick the blog or you to the curb. I'm going to store this memory upstairs, in the attic of cloudy dreams unreal. Sure, it's a little crowded up there, but I'll find room.

This beauty of a song appears, appropriately, on The Grateful Dead's fifth studio album, American Beauty, which came out in 1970. It remains to this day my favorite Dead album. Aside from the gorgeous harmonies, the song tugs at the heartstrings with Robert Hunter's profound lyrics. I have spent my life / Seeking all that's still unsung / Bent my ear to hear the tune / And closed my eyes to see. Well, you can just put that on my tombstone. (Make that a metaphoric tombstone, okay?)

I am well aware that, as expected, my readership fluctuated throughout the year. A couple of things I learned: There were more "views" of posts of older songs; I guess people prefer the familiar to the new. And the pictures I selected to accompany the posts seemed to be a factor in whether or not someone was going to spend the time reading the post. Stock photos did not garner as much attention as personal photos. These are just inconsequential observations. But there's an important observation that I want to acknowledge. Although I dislike using the word "loyal" here, there were a few of you who, by your "likes" or comments, let me know that you were following the blog nearly every day. So I want to give a shout-out to Rachel, Nora, Mary, Ron, Michael, Robert, Amy, Laurie, Gene, Allison, Allyn, Jack, Marilyn, Cheryl, Jim, Lois, Jane, Wendy, Jeannine, Janet, Korey, and Mary Ann. (And I apologize if I missed anyone.) You warmed my heart every day.

So, after 365 days of choosing a song, doing some research, finding a video link, typing the lyrics, waxing philosophical, scheduling the publication, and posting the link on Facebook . . . all by 4:00 every day, I am ready for a break! (I wonder how long it will take before I no longer react to the clock? "It's 4:00! I have to post my blog!") Will I miss it? Yeah, I'll miss the connection. One thing I won't miss, however, is trying to figure out if I've already used a song! (As far as I know, I did not use the same song twice.) I will find other creative pursuits to take up my time, and they may or may not include writing. One thing is for sure: whatever I am doing, there will always be music playing.

And so, goodbye to this blog, where all the pages are my days. To my readers, I will employ my grandmother's advice: "Never say goodbye. 'So long' means you'll see each other again."

So long!

The Pretender

Listen while you read:  Jackson Browne

I'm going to rent myself a house in the shade of the freeway
Gonna pack my lunch in the morning and go to work each day
And when the evening rolls around
I'll go home and lay my body down
And when the morning light comes streaming in
I'll get up and do it again
Amen
Say it again
Amen

I want to know what became of the changes we waited for love to bring
Were they only the fitful dreams of some greater awakening?
I've been aware of the time going by
They say in the end, it's the wink of an eye
When the morning light comes streaming in
You'll get up and do it again
Amen

Caught between the longing for love and the struggle for the legal tender
Where the sirens sing and the church bells ring
And the junk man pounds his fender
Where the veterans dream of the fight, fast asleep at the traffic light
And the children solemnly wait for the ice cream vendor
Out into the cool of the evening strolls the pretender
He knows that all his hopes and dreams
Begin and end there

Ah, the laughter of the lovers as they run through the night
Leaving nothing for the others but to choose off and fight
And tear at the world with all their might
While the ships bearing their dreams sail out of sight

I'm gonna find myself a girl who can show me what laughter means
And we'll fill in the missing colors in each other's paint-by-number dreams
And then we'll put our dark glasses on
And we'll make love until our strength is gone
And when the morning light comes streaming in
We'll get up and do it again
Get it up again

I'm gonna be a happy idiot and struggle for the legal tender
Where the ads take aim and lay their claim
To the heart and the soul of the spender
And believe in whatever may lie
In those things that money can buy
Though true love could have been a contender
Are you there?
Say a prayer for the pretender
Who started out so young and strong
Only to surrender

Say a prayer for the pretender
Are you there for the pretender?
Say a prayer for the pretender
Are you there for the pretender?
Are you prepared for the pretender?

~  Jackson Browne

You could say that I saved the best for last. Well, almost the last. This penultimate song choice is, in my humble opinion, the greatest rock song ever written. And nearly five years ago, in July 2013, I got to tell that to Jackson's face, up close and personal at Levon Helm's Barn. You know what Jackson replied? He said, "Thank you." To me. Appearing on an album of the same name, the song dates back to 1976. American Songwriter took note of the song's prescience: "What can't be properly explained is the haunting way it predicts a time when 'Greed is good' started to win out over 'All you need is love.'" Are we all becoming happy idiots? Can money buy us that happiness? Jackson himself said of the song, "It's grappling with the question of whether the life you're living is the life you thought you were headed for."

So the song deals with the meaning of life, with the decisions made about prioritizing love or possessions, with the sorry way that life becomes a robotic stumble over responsibility and release. These are not new questions or issues. So why do I think the song stands out as the best?

Well, let's start with that piano intro. Jackson sets both the stage and the mood for an introspective journey into the examined life. And those few notes lead me there gracefully, if not without some trepidation. The piano continues to direct the listener . . . when to slow down, when to get excited, when to get ready to switch gears. Then there are the back-up vocals. Did you know those are courtesy of Graham Nash and David Crosby? The song swells with passion when the lovers are observed by the pretender, who strolls out into the cool of the evening, thanks to Nash and Crosby. The song's musical composition is masterfully crafted.

But lyrically speaking (!), ohmigod, the song is just brilliant. The third verse, especially, blows me away. It's a feast of sight and sound, for one thing. The sirens and the bells provide a small-town backdrop, but that pounding on the fender (which, in my mind, is off in the distance) just punctuates the theme of the song. Is there meaning in spending a life pounding dents out of car parts? Is that a more satisfactory existence than pounding on a keyboard in a cubicle at some corporate headquarters? But wait, there's more. Having provided us with the sounds, Jackson treats us to a somber look at life with no preference to age. The veterans falling asleep at the traffic light have seen their glory days become a thing of the past, but where is the promise of glory for the children? Many of us are old enough to remember the thrill of hearing the chimes of the ice cream truck as it rolled into our neighborhood. A Good Humor ice cream bar was ours for the sacrifice of a dime. But the children here are not waiting happily or excitedly or eagerly. They're waiting solemnly. Where is joy? Where is hope? Is this as good as it gets?

We'll fill in the missing colors in each other's paint-by-number dreams. Okay, sounds romantic, in that "You complete me" kind of way. But then we'll put our dark glasses on / And we'll make love until our strength is gone. Dark glasses? So one cannot look too deeply into the other's eyes (which, of course, are the windows to the soul)? Is this robotic love? Whatever, let's do it again tomorrow.

"'The Pretender' took a long time. It's not that I worked on it everyday; I was reluctant to finish it before I had gotten all there was out of it. Songwriting is a search. Most of my songs set up a bunch of questions, and it takes a while to answer them." (Jackson Browne to Rolling Stone)

I will never, ever tire of this song or its meaning. Life sets up a bunch of questions, and I am grateful that Jackson tries to answer them. His thoughts have many times been helpful to me as I struggle to understand this journey, which is a goal I don't ever expect to reach. But I've been aware of the time going by / They say in the end, it's the wink of an eye. What else to do but get up and do it again?

Amen.

Same Old Lang Syne

Listen while you read:  Dan Fogelberg

Met my old lover in the grocery store
The snow was falling on Christmas Eve
I stood behind her in the frozen food
And I touched her on the sleeve

She didn't recognize the face at first
But then her eyes flew open wide
She went to hug me and she spilled her purse
And we laughed until we cried

We took her groceries to the checkout stand
The food was totaled up and bagged
We stood there lost in our embarrassment
As the conversation lagged

We went to have ourselves a drink or two
But couldn't find an open bar
We bought a six-pack at the liquor store
And we drank it in her car

We drank a toast to innocence
We drank a toast to now
We tried to reach beyond the emptiness
But neither one knew how

She said she's married her an architect
Who kept her warm and safe and dry
She would have liked to say she loved the man
But she didn't like to lie

I said the years had been a friend to her
And that her eyes were still as blue
But in those eyes I wasn't sure if I saw
Doubt or gratitude

She said she saw me in the record stores
And that I must be doing well
I said the audience was heavenly
But the traveling was hell

We drank a toast to innocence
We drank a toast to now
We tried to reach beyond the emptiness
But neither one knew how

We drank a toast to innocence

We drank a toast to time

Reliving in our eloquence

Another "Auld Lang Syne"

The beer was empty and our tongues were tired

And running out of things to say

She gave a kiss to me as I got out

And I watched her drive away

Just for a moment I was back at school

And felt that old familiar pain

And as I turned to make my way back home

The snow turned into rain

~  Dan Fogelberg

I like songs that tell a story. This one, by Fogelberg's admission, is completely autobiographical. He was visiting his family in Peoria, Illinois, one Christmas and was sent out to get whipped cream for the Irish coffee. In a convenience store, he ran into his high school girlfriend, who was there to pick up some eggnog. The rest of the story is true, except that Jill, the girlfriend, had green eyes, not blue, and married a gym teacher, not an architect. She came forward as the girl in the song after Fogelberg died in 2007. First released as a single, the song was then included in 1981's The Innocent Age.

Fogelberg was a wonderful singer/songwriter, and I can still remember seeing him in concert back in the 70s. Songs like "Leader of the Band" and "Run for the Roses" are heartfelt and emotive. And although our stories may involve different landscapes and circumstances, we have all been surprised at some point to run into someone from our past, as in this song. It is always fun to share our memories of a time long gone, but inevitably, we run out of things to say and come to the conclusion that perhaps our connections lie only in the past. And that's okay.

We are nearing the end of another year, and it demands reflection. In two more days, we'll be singing "Auld Lang Syne," a song that nobody really understands, but if you're drunk enough, it sounds good and fitting to the occasion. The literal translation of the phrase is "old long since," but it means something akin to "times gone by."

Writing this blog has often allowed me to be reflective of people and places I have known, as the music so easily transports me to earlier times. I'm sure it does for you, too, judging by the many times your comments have revealed a memory that a song has inspired. Cherish those memories, but please continue gathering new music, because there are future memories to be discovered from those songs.

We'll take a cup o' kindness yet

For auld lang syne

Drink up!

Turtles All the Way Down

Listen while you read:  It's a little bit country . . .

I've seen Jesus play with flames
In a lake of fire that I was standing in
Met the devil in Seattle
And spent nine months inside the lion's den
Met Buddha another time
And he showed me a glowing light within
But I swear that God is there
Every time I glare in the eyes of my best friend

Says my son, "It's all been done
And someday you're gonna wake up old and gray
So go and try to have some fun
Showing warmth to everyone you meet
And greet and cheat along the way"

There's a gateway in our minds
That leads somewhere out there, far beyond this place
Where reptile aliens made of light
Cut you open and pull out all your pain
Tell me how you make illegal
Something that we all make in our brain
Some say you might go crazy
But then again, it might make you go sane

Every time I take a look
Inside that old and fabled book
I'm blinded and reminded of
The pain caused by some old man in the sky
Marijuana, LSD
Psilocybin, and DMT
They all changed the way I see
But love's the only thing that ever saved my life

So don't waste your mind on nursery rhymes
Or fairy tales of blood and wine
It's turtles all the way down the line
So to each their own 'til we go home
To other realms our souls must roam
To and through the myth that we all call space and time

~  Sturgill Simpson

I first heard of Sturgill Simpson in 2016 with the release of his second effort, A Sailor's Guide to Earth. Once I got over his undeniably country voice, I really liked his songs! But did I know Sturgill Simpson? No!  Since I am currently on Isla Mujeres, where there's a turtle farm called "Tortugranja," I went looking for songs about turtles. And there was Sturgill Simpson! I had no idea what I was in for.

"Turtles All the Way Down" appears on Simpson's album debut, Metamodern Sounds in Country Music, released in 2014. Man, this song has it all! Country music, hippie music, drug references, religion, spirituality, physics, mythology, theology, cosmology, epistemology, philosophy, and probably a whole lot of other "ologies." But Sturgill simplifies it for us:

"It's about giving your heart to love and treating everyone with compassion and respect no matter what you do or don't believe. The cosmic turtle is from a much quoted story found in publications throughout modern physics and philosophy, even ancient theology, that now essentially serves as a comedic picture or expression of a much grander idea." (from an NPR interview)

Well, let me further simplify. There is a somewhat esoteric belief that the world rests upon the back of a turtle. An epistemological koan (riddle) asks, "What does the turtle itself stand on?" The answer is, "Turtles all the way down." So imagine a turtle on the back of a larger turtle on the back of an even larger turtle, and on and on, indefinitely. The story even appears in Stephen Hawkings' 1988 A Brief History of Time, so there's some cred for you.

Is the song about drugs? Yes. Is it about religion? Yes. Is it about love? Yes. But love's the only thing that ever saved my life.

Looking forward to visiting Tortugranja, where the goal is to save the lives of the turtles.

Lady of the Island

Listen while you read:  Crosby, Stills, & Nash

Holding you close undisturbed before a fire
The pressure in my chest when you breathe in my ear
We both knew this would happen when you first appeared
My lady of the island

The brownness of your body in the fire glow
Except the places where the sun refused to go
Our bodies were a perfect fit in afterglow we lay
My lady of the island

Letting myself wander through the world inside your eyes
You know I'd like to stay here until every tear runs dry

Wrapped around each other in the peeping sun
Beams of sunshine light the stage, the red light's on
I never want to finish what I've just begun with you
My lady of the island

~ Graham Nash (for C, S, & N)

I am, indeed, a lady of the island . . . "The Island of Women," as a matter of fact. I am spending Christmas week with my family here on Isla Mujeres, Quintana Roo, Mexico. This classic song found a place in my head, so here it is. Graham Nash wrote this as a love song to Joni Mitchell. It was part of the highly acclaimed debut album, Crosby, Stills, & Nash, which was released in 1969. I can still remember that album and the impact this "new band" had on us. Of course, we already knew The Byrds, Buffalo Springfield, and The Hollies . . . but C, S, & N blew us away. They still do.

And this island is blowing me away, too! In Pre-columbian times, the island was sacred to the Maya goddess of childbirth and medicine, Ixchel. When the Spanish arrived in the 16th century, they found many statues and images of goddesses, so they named it Isla Mujeres . . . "Island of Women." Only five miles long and a half a mile wide, the island is easily navigated by golf carts and scooters. Our days here are few, so we are exploring all that we can, and happily so.

I cannot hear "Lady of the Island" without recalling how I used to use it in my writing classes to teach assonance. Everybody knows alliteration, the repetition of consonant sounds at the beginnings of words. (Think tongue-twisters as an extreme form of alliteration.) Assonance is the repetition of vowel sounds inside words. Look at the first two lines of the song and take note of "holding" and "close," "pressure" and "chest," and "breathe" and "ear." Hear it? I can't help but wonder if Graham Nash knew that he was writing a poetry lesson for English teachers when he wrote the song? Nah, I think he was just thinking of Joni.

Isla Mujeres. You know I'd like to stay here . . .

The Boxer

Listen while you read:  Mumford & Sons version

I am just a poor boy, though my story's seldom told
I have squandered my resistance for a pocket full of mumbles
Such as promises, all lies and jests
Still a man hears what he wants to hear
And disregards the rest

When I left my home and my family
I was no more than a boy in the company of strangers
In the quiet of the railway station running scared
Staying low, seeking out the poorer quarters
Where the ragged people go
Looking for the places only they would know

Asking only workman's wages, I come looking for a job
But I get no offers, only a come-on from the whores on 7th Avenue
I do declare there were times when I was so lonesome
I took some comfort there

Then I'm laying out my winter clothes
And wishing I was gone, going home
Where the New York City winters aren't bleeding me
Leading me, going home

In the clearing stands a boxer and a fighter by his trade
And he carries the reminders of every glove that laid him out
Or cut him till he cried out in his anger and his shame
"I am leaving, I am leaving," but the fighter still remains

~  Paul Simon

Happy Boxing Day! No, this song has nothing to do with Boxing Day! And the link won't even take you to the Simon & Garfunkel original, which appears on 1970's Bridge Over Troubled Water. Instead, I linked a Mumford & Sons cover from 2012's Babel. Why? Mostly because I just love Jerry Douglas' dobro on it. You will, too. Give it a listen.

Boxing Day originated in the United Kingdom and is still celebrated in several countries once owned by the Brits. The original purpose was to bestow gifts (in boxes, of course) on the lower classes, the servants who tended to the wealthy (who exchanged their gifts on Christmas Day). I wonder if Boxing Day was the precursor to regifting? Imagine a lord or lady receiving a Chia Pet and passing it on the next day to some ragged servant whose job it was to scrub the floors of the castle.

Paul Simon readily admits that he is "the boxer." After receiving such high praise for the early work of Simon & Garfunkel, the critics began to pick at subsequent efforts, and Simon had to deal with that. He imagined himself beaten up by the critics . . . but the fighter still remains. Lucky for us that he didn't quit. He also confesses that his melodic chorus of "lie la lie . . . " was a "placeholder" when he couldn't come up with the lyrics. Somehow it stuck and became a classic singalong.

There was an additional verse to the song which didn't make it onto the album, but Simon and Garfunkel have included it at some live performances.  I was happy to find it today, thinking it a suitable verse to add as another year reaches its close. And for those of us who lived during that magical age of good music (otherwise known as "the Sixties"), it seems strange to imagine a young Paul Simon crafting these lyrics:

Now the years are rolling by me
They are rockin' evenly
I am older than I once was
And younger than I'll be
That's not unusual
No, it isn't strange
After changes upon changes
We are more or less the same
After changes, we are more or less the same

Now go box up that Talking Fish and find someone to give it to!

Happy Xmas (War Is Over)

Listen while you read:  Warning: this video will break your heart

So this is Christmas
And what have you done?
Another year over
And a new one just begun
And so this is Christmas
I hope you have fun
The near and the dear one
The old and the young

A very Merry Christmas
And a Happy New Year
Let's hope it's a good one
Without any fear

And so this is Christmas
For weak and for strong
For rich and the poor ones
The world is so wrong
And so Happy Christmas
For black and for white
For yellow and red ones
Let's stop all the fight

A very Merry Christmas
And a Happy New Year
Let's hope it's a good one
Without any fear

And so this is Christmas
And what have we done?
Another year over
A new one just begun
And so Happy Christmas
We hope you have fun
The near and the dear one
The old and the young

A very Merry Christmas
And a Happy New Year
Let's hope it's a good one
Without any fear
War is over, if you want it
War is over now

Happy Christmas

~  John Lennon

The world is so wrong. John Lennon wrote that in 1971. Think about that for a minute. Forty-six years later, can we say anything different? I'm sorry, I don't mean to be a downer here on your Christmas. Of course, I'm thinking that if you are having a perfect Christmas, you don't have time to read my blog! So I will continue speaking to the rest of you, the ones whose lives do not resemble Currier & Ives Christmas prints. In other words, most of us.

John And Yoko recorded this song in the fall of 1971. You can find it on Some Time in New York City, released in 1972. At the end of the video (which I warned you about!), Mahatma Gandhi is quoted, "An eye for an eye will make us all blind." And that pretty much sums it up, doesn't it? War is not over, and not for lack of so many of us wanting it.

For rich and the poor ones . . . and who has not called up that old lyric from 1921's "Ain't We Got Fun?" The rich get richer and the poor get poorer. The "tax reform" bill that was just passed is just another reincarnation of this truth. Did we not learn anything from the "trickle-down" scam of the Reagan era?

But, hey, Terry, lighten up . . . it's Christmas! Let's hope it's a good one. And there's a lesson here, isn't there? We cannot let the ills of the world dampen our loving spirit. Holidays are a time to be with people we love, to be kind, to be generous, to find joy in the familiarity of family and friends.

I am writing this post several days before Christmas, but if all goes as planned, by Christmas night, I will be with the people I love most in the world. We will gather around a table for dinner on an island in another country. We will raise our glasses, clinking them 64 ways before we imbibe. And then we will feast, tell stories, laugh, and find comfort in our connections. And with any luck at all, we will find our way back to our island abode.

Wherever you are, and however you choose to celebrate this day (or not), my wish is that you find your own peace within . . . because it doesn't look like the world is ready to offer any kind of inclusive peace anytime soon. Nevertheless, Joy to Your World!