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!

Christmas Must Be Tonight

Listen while you read:  The Band!

Come down to the manger, see the little stranger
Wrapped in swaddling, lo, the Prince of Peace
Wheels start turning, torches start burning
And the old Wise Men journey from the East

How a little baby boy bring a people so much joy
Son of a carpenter, Mary carried the light
This must be Christmas, must be tonight

A shepherd on a hillside where over my flock, I bide
On a cold winter night, a band of angels sing
In a dream I heard a voice saying, "Fear not, come rejoice!
It's the end of the beginning, praise the newborn King"

How a little baby boy bring a people so much joy
Son of a carpenter, Mary carried the light
This must be Christmas, must be tonight

I saw it with my own eyes, written up in the skies
But why a simple herdsman such as I?
And then it came to pass, he was born at last
Right below the star that shines on high

How a little baby boy bring a people so much joy
Son of a carpenter, Mary carried the light
This must be Christmas, must be tonight

Son of a carpenter, Mary carried the light
This must be Christmas, must be tonight
Be tonight, be tonight, be tonight

~  Robbie Robertson (The Band)

I know, I know. It's Christmas Eve, the night before the birth of Jesus, right? Well, maybe not. It is more likely that Jesus was born in the spring. Apparently, when Church officials decided at the end of the third century to make December 25 the designated birthday, it was to have it coincide with existing Pagan festivals, thereby making it more likely that they would accept Rome's position that Christianity was the official religion and Christmas the official Christian holiday. If you're already celebrating Saturn with trees and gifts and booze, why not throw in a little story about a miraculous birth in a far-off country, a magic star, and some shepherds and wise men to add to the excitement? I don't mean to be disrespectful; I think it's a great story, as are those of other mythologies. But I don't think it's just about the story. If your faith is in Jesus Christ, the story of his birth could be anything, right? But really, I was just trying to justify posting this song on Christmas Eve instead of Christmas Day.

Rick Danko has one of the most beautiful and compelling voices I've ever heard, and he delivers this song with such beauty, I would have to say it is my favorite Christmas song. Levon Helm backs Danko up on the chorus so perfectly. The song was written for 1975's Northern Lights, Southern Cross, but for some reason, was not included. Instead, it appears on 1977's Islands, where it did not get the attention it deserved. Told from the point of view of a lowly shepherd, the traditional story takes on a humble and pedestrian honesty.

If your Christmas Eve is crazy with last minute stuff, I hope this song is able to slow you down a bit. Pour a glass, put your feet up, admire the holiday landscape inside your home, and recognize that this is the end of the beginning.

This must be Christmas. Must be tonight.

Peace on Earth.

December

Listen while you read:  George Winston

(There are no lyrics.)

Like many mothers of young children, I used to spend much of November and December in preparation for Christmas. I wanted to make it magical for them. Despite having a full-time job, I managed to shop, wrap, decorate, bake, send homemade cards, and plan menus. And then I shopped some more, which meant wrapping some more, and then that one string of lights would go out, and I'd forgotten to buy the chocolate chips, and the dog ate the low-hanging candy canes, and where the hell did I put those damn Christmas CDs? You get the picture.

And then one year, on December 23, I said, "Screw this! We're going out to dinner!" Now, going to a restaurant was not something we did very often, unless you count the $10 for a pie and a pitcher at a local pizza joint on a Wednesday night. But I was in serious need of somebody waiting on me. So we did that . . . and then it became a tradition.

But it wasn't about the fancy restaurant meal. It was about slowing down, taking a break, remembering to breathe. A full belly and a little buzz helped me face the next day and all its last-minute work, culminating in a Christmas Eve family gathering. And then the reward was staying in pajamas all of Christmas Day, eating leftovers and relishing the truth that there was nothing more that I needed to do.

I left those traditions behind years ago, but I still sense a need to slow down, to breathe, on this day. And so I'm offering a piano solo, "December," by Windham Hill artist, George Winston. This beauty dates back to 1982, when "New Age" was still a new thing. If you like it, you can find the full album (also titled December) on youtube. Click the "play" arrow, pour a glass, put your feet up, and breathe.

Feel better? I thought so.

River

Listen while you read:  featuring Snoopy!

It's coming on Christmas
They're cutting down trees
They're putting up reindeer
And singing songs of joy and peace
Oh, I wish I had a river I could skate away on

But it don't snow here
It stays pretty green
I'm going to make a lot of money
Then I'm going to quit this crazy scene
Oh, I wish I had a river I could skate away on

I wish I had a river so long
I would teach my feet to fly
I wish I had a river I could skate away on
I made my baby cry

He tried hard to help me
You know, he put me at ease
And he loved me so naughty
Made me weak in the knees
Oh, I wish I had a river I could skate away on

I'm so hard to handle
I'm selfish and I'm sad
Now I've gone and lost the best baby
That I ever had
I wish I had a river I could skate away on
. . . 

~  Joni Mitchell

Did it really take me this long to post a Joni Mitchell song? I have no explanation for that, as I consider her one of the best lyricists ever. I have said many times that in my next life, I want to look and sing like Joni Mitchell. Well, maybe this post was worth waiting for? It is one of my favorite Joni songs and can be found on 1971's Blue. Treat yourself to the animated video, which features Snoopy and the rest of the Peanuts gang ice skating, but be sure to watch until the end! Snoopy won't let you down!

I am no athlete, but I can ice skate. Meaning I can glide forward on skates without falling down. Skating backwards is a skill I never quite mastered. Don't laugh, but I still have my figure skates from 1962, complete with black pom-poms and jingle bells! I bought new L.L. Bean skates several years ago, but they just weren't the same, so I went back to my 55-year-old skates. And I also still wear my ancient wool socks with the poinsettia flowers embroidered on the cuffs.

But who am I kidding? I have not skated in three years, not since I became a snowbird. It don't snow here / It stays pretty green. There isn't much I miss about being in the Northeast in the winter. Maybe two things: watching birds at the feeder . . . and ice skating. And please don't suggest that I find an indoor skating rink down here. Skating around and around in circles with a gazillion other people is not my idea of ice skating. I need a pond or a lake . . . or a river I can skate away on.

And the metaphor is not lost on me. Like many of you, I have had the desire of late to skate away. Lacking a frozen body of water, we search for other ways to escape our pain or sorrow or fear, some ways healthier than others. I hope your future holds the company of your loved ones, the comfort of home, heartfelt laughter, and perhaps a good book in which to escape. And if you happen to reside in the North, skate a round for me.

The Christians and the Pagans

Listen while you read:  Winter Solstice!

Amber called her uncle, said, "We're up here for the holiday
Jane and I were having Solstice, now we need a place to stay"
And her Christ-loving uncle watched his wife hang Mary on a tree
He watched his son hang candy canes all made with red dye number three
He told his niece, "It's Christmas Eve. I know our life is not your style"
She said, "Christmas is like Solstice, and we miss you, and it's been a while"

So the Christians and the Pagans sat together at the table
Finding faith and common ground the best that they were able
And just before the meal was served, hands were held and prayers were said
Sending hope for peace on earth to all their gods and goddesses

The food was great, the tree plugged in, the meal had gone without a hitch
Till Timmy turned to Amber and said, "Is it true that you're a witch?"
His mom jumped up and said, "The pies are burning!" and she hit the kitchen
And it was Jane who spoke. She said, "It's true your cousin's not a Christian
But we love trees, we love the snow, the friends we have, the world we share
And you find magic from your God, and we find magic everywhere"

So the Christians and the Pagans sat together at the table
Finding faith and common ground the best that they were able
And where does magic come from? I think magic's in the learning
'Cause now when Christians sit with Pagans, only pumpkin pies are burning

When Amber tried to do the dishes, her aunt said, "Really, no, don't bother"
Amber's uncle saw how Amber looked like Tim and like her father
He thought about his brother, how they hadn't spoken in a year
He thought he'd call him up and say, "It's Christmas, and your daughter's here"
He thought of fathers, sons, and brothers, saw his own son tug his sleeve
Saying, "Can I be a Pagan?" Dad said, "We'll discuss it when they leave"

So the Christians and the Pagans sat together at the table
Finding faith and common ground the best that they were able
Lighting trees in darkness, learning new ways from the old
And making sense of history and drawing warmth out of the cold

~  Dar Williams

Today marks the shortest day of the year. Or if you prefer, the longest night. Or you can call it the first day of winter. I prefer Winter Solstice. Often thought of as a "pagan holiday," which tends to make it seem improper to other religions, I like to think of it as a "holiday" that we can ALL celebrate, regardless of our religion or ethnicity or traditions. To be fair, recognition of the holiday depends on which hemisphere you inhabit. If you are in the Northern hemisphere, today is Winter Solstice! But if you are in the Southern hemisphere, you will have to wait until June. Sorry. (I did get to celebrate Summer Solstice four years ago when I was traveling in Australia in December. Strange, but cool!)

Paganism is a term used to label those who practice polytheism (worship of multiple deities, such as gods and goddesses). Dating back to the early 4th century, the term was used by Christians in a derogatory fashion to dismiss those who had not accepted Christ as their savior. And it seems that the stigma survived. Pagans are often put in a basket with witches and warlocks and heathens, groups that probably would not be able to gain admission to Sam's Club or the local YMCA or PTA. (But I could be wrong on that, so don't quote me.)

In Dar Williams' cleverly told story, it is possible to discover that we have more in common than we think, despite our religious (or non) affiliations. We all want peace on earth, don't we? A popular choice when Dar performs, the song can be found on 1996's Mortal City. Although her focus in the song is Christians and Pagans, I can imagine the song being about 'The Republicans and the Democrats" or "The Conservatives and the Liberals" or "The Rappers and the Rockers." I repeat, we all want peace on earth, right?

Winter Solstice is special to me. For many years, my husband and I celebrated both Winter and Summer Solstice with our dear friends, Jim and Lois. We'd met up for drinks after work one afternoon many years ago, and it happened to have been on Winter Solstice. We made a vow then to get together every solstice. "The long and the short of it," Jim quipped. Pete and I were in charge of Summer Solstice, which involved finding a place to go and footing the bill. Jim and Lois were in charge of Winter Solstice. Every year, we upped the ante a bit. One memorable Winter Solstice was the one in which we were picked up in a limousine, driven to a famous seafood restaurant in New York City, and then seated in the fifth row for a performance by the Paul Winter Consort at St. John's Cathedral. Memorable!

I carried my reverence for Winter Solstice into my teaching, celebrating the afternoon with my Creative Writing students. We enjoyed poetry, musical performances, and food and beverages in the school's library. It was my favorite day of the school year!

However you celebrate the shortest day, imbue it with peace and love and tolerance. And those attributes can apply even without a celebration. Namaste!

Your Wildest Dreams

Listen while you read:  The Moody Blues

Once upon a time
Once when you were mine
I remember skies
Reflected in your eyes
I wonder where you are
I wonder if you think about me
Once upon a time
In your wildest dreams

Once the world was new
Our bodies felt the morning dew
That greets the brand new day
We couldn't tear ourselves away
I wonder if you care
I wonder if you still remember
Once upon a time
In your wildest dreams

And when the music plays
And when the words are touched with sorrow
When the music plays
I hear the sound I had to follow
Once upon a time

Once beneath the stars
The universe was ours
Love was all we knew
And all I knew was you
I wonder if you know
I wonder if you think about it
Once upon a time
In your wildest dreams

And when the music plays
And when the words are touched with sorrow
When the music plays
I hear the sound I had to follow
Once upon a time

Once upon a time
Once when you were mine
I remember skies
Mirrored in your eyes
I wonder where you are
I wonder if you think about it
Once upon a time
In your wildest dreams

~  Justin Hayward (The Moody Blues)

Hey, Pete. I heard this song the other day in the car, and I have to admit that I had a bit of trouble focusing on driving. But don't worry, I pulled myself together; I'm pretty good at doing that. Sure, it's a bit harder at this time of year, even after all this time. Was it really fifteen years ago tonight? Oh, I remember it so well, how you waited until we were all there in the room. We laughed about something, and that was the moment that you chose to leave. It was Katrina who noticed the change in your breathing. We gathered around you, said what we had to say, and then you were gone. I wonder if you still remember?

So this song, an old Moody Blues' number from 1986, is on an album called The Other Side of Life. How fitting, since I guess that's where you are. I have to say that I am comforted when you come back over to this side to visit me in dreams. In those early years, it seemed that you were always sick and weak when you appeared in those dreams. But now, you appear healthy and strong, looking just as I choose to remember you, once upon a time. I am always surprised to realize that you would be 60 now! (The dream-you is 40-ish. You're still so damn handsome, babe!)

Pete, your kids are amazing! Of course, my heart breaks whenever I let myself go to the "what if?" place. But I know you are with them. I see it in their environmentalism, their compassion, their work ethic, and their smarts. I see it in Katrina when she tries to philosophize about the imperfections of the Universe. I see it in Jenna when she explores the wonders of the natural world and finds her peace there. And I see it in Sam when he hikes a mountain or solves an ecological problem or puts his complete faith in the Mets every spring. You are in their smiles, their tears, their hopes, and yes, their wildest dreams.

And I'm doing okay. It took a long time, but I've found someone who loves me. I think you'd like him! He's smart, kind, liberal, and affectionate. We share a love of music, politics, road trips, and happy hours. Yeah, you'd like him!

Once upon a time
Once when you were mine
I remember skies
Mirrored in your eyes
I wonder where you are
I wonder if you think about it
Once upon a time
In your wildest dreams

I remember, Pete.

It's a Hit

Listen while you read:  Rilo Kiley

Any chimp can play human for a day
Use his opposable thumbs to iron his uniform
And run for office on election day
Fancy himself a real decision maker
And deploy more troops than salt shakers

But it's a jungle out there when war is made
And you'll panic and throw your own shit at the enemy
The camera pulls back to reveal your true identity
Look, it's a sheep in wolf's clothing
A smoking-gun-holding ape

Any asshole can open up a museum
Put all of the things he loves on display
So everyone could see them
The house, a car, a thoughtful wife
Ordinary moments in his ordinary life

But if she breaks a smile, she'll give you away
Because no one wants to pay to see her happiness
No one wants to pay to see her day-to-day
And I'm not buying it, either
But I'll try selling it anyway

Any idiot can play Greek for a day
And join a sorority or write a tragedy
And articulating all that pain
And maybe you'll get paid

But it's a sin when success complains
And your writer's block, it don't mean shit
Just throw it against the wall and see what sticks
Got to write a hit, I think this is it
It's a hit

And if it's not
Then it's a holiday for a hanging
Yeah, it's a holiday for a hanging
Yeah, it's a holiday for a hanging
Yeah, it's a holiday for a hanging
Yeah, shoo bop, shoo bop, my baby

Any fool can play executioner for a day
And say with fingers pointed in both directions
"He went thataway"
It's only a switch or syringe
Exempt from eternal sins
But you can still wear a cross
And you think you're going to get in

Ah, but the pardons never come from upstairs
They're always a moment too late
But it's entertainment
Keep the crowd on their toes
It's justice, we're safe
It's not a hit, it's a holiday
Shoo bop, shoo bop, my baby

It's a holiday for a hanging, yeah . . . 

~  Jenny Lewis (for Rilo Kiley)

Well, I just love Rilo Kiley (even though they don't exist anymore), but mostly, I love Jenny Lewis' lyrics and vocals. "It's a Hit" is from Rilo Kiley's 2004 release, More Adventurous. The linked video is pretty trippy, so much so that I cannot wrap my head around why they would bleep out the words "asshole" and "shit." Seriously. Why?

Clearly, the beginning of the song is a direct reference to the Presidency of George W. Bush. Which, of course, seems rather tame in comparison to today's administration. But the basic premise of the song, that it doesn't require any great intelligence or honor or compassion to hold high office, is pretty obvious. Any asshole can do it. And we have certainly seen our share of assholes holding office, haven't we?

But you can still wear a cross and think you're going to get in. I'm sorry, but this line really gets to me. I do not doubt for one minute that there are good and honorable people sporting crucifixes on gold chains around their necks. But I want to believe that it takes much more than that to enter the kingdom of heaven (whatever and wherever that is). I have always believed that it's not what church or temple you frequent, or what symbols you decorate your body or your car with, or what prayers you recite or sing, but rather, the way you behave, the way you treat others, the way you uplift those around you to a higher existence.

Last week, I was behind a minivan sporting a sticker that read "God Bless My Car." Seriously? God is blessing cars now? I would imagine that the underlying prayer is that the sticker will prevent that car from ever being in an accident? I am old enough to remember the trend of placing a St. Christopher medal on the visor of a car.  I'm not buying it, either / But I'll try selling it anyway. I'm pretty sure those medals went through several accidents. Some of us know that this life is a crapshoot. Some of us have yet to find this out.

Shoo bop, shoo bop, my baby . . . 

The Crystal Ship

Listen while you read:  The Doors

Before you slip into unconsciousness
I'd like to have another kiss
Another flashing chance at bliss
Another kiss, another kiss

The days are bright and filled with pain
Enclose me in your gentle rain
The time you ran was too insane
We'll meet again, we'll meet again

Oh, tell me where your freedom lies
The streets are fields that never die
Deliver me from reasons why
You'd rather cry, I'd rather fly

The crystal ship is being filled
A thousand girls, a thousand thrills
A million ways to spend your time
When we get back, I'll drop a line

~  Jim Morrison (The Doors)

You know how some songs can just put you in a certain place in your memory, even if it's not a particularly significant place? When The Doors' "Light My Fire" hit #1 on the charts in the summer of 1967, the excitement over this new band was extreme. In my memory, I am in a sporty car with my high school boyfriend, aimlessly traveling the back roads of our rural community, groovin' to the tune. And then I bought the single and discovered the B-side. "The Crystal Ship" is on The Doors' eponymous first album.

I spent yesterday afternoon sitting on the bleachers overlooking the St. Lucie River on the Treasure Coast, groovin' to a Doors cover band. While I am not a big fan of cover bands, I have to admit that this one was damn good. Not only were the band members exceptionally skilled, but the lead singer's voice was as close to Jim Morrison's as you can get. And, although he did not possess Morrison's good looks, he had a lot of fun acting crazy during his performance. Sporting a too-long pair of brown pleather pants, he was able to perspire profusely, shaking off sprays of sweat from his longish hair. The rest of us stayed relatively cool on the breezy waterfront. People sang along, danced in front of the stage, and generally had a good time. And it was free, thanks to the Stuart Rock'n Riverwalk, which hosts afternoon concerts every Sunday.

In revisiting the lyrics for this song, I couldn't help but laugh at how we would have to listen over and over again to "get" the words correct back in the day. (For you young'uns, there was no Google, no Internet, no Siri to help us out.) Where Morrison sings a thousand girls, I heard "a thousand hells" (which I like better). And that last line? I'll drop a line? I never got that! And I was better off living with the mystery of the line! What a disappointing end to a great song! And what did it mean? Although most people understand that "The Crystal Ship" is about Morrison's break-up with his girlfriend of three years, there are those who insist that it is loaded with drug references. Does drop a line mean, "I'll be in touch" . . . or does it mean that he will "drop a line" of acid?

Only Jim Morrison knows. And he's not talking.

End of the World with You

Listen while you read:  Calexico

I thought you were the one who said cold wars were a bust
She doesn't want a Romeo, just someone she can trust
With an ear to the ground

Love in the age of the extremes
There's nothing better that I'd rather do
Than to scatter all the myths
And walk to the start of the end of the world with you

Turn up the microphone on the national parks
You gotta switch something off if you wanna get it right
A crater full of wisdom in James Turrell's eyes

Light in the age of the extremes
There's nothing finer that I'd rather see
Than to scatter all the myths
Find another way around getting stuck at the end of the world with you
The end of the world with you
At the end of the world with you
At the end of the world with you
At the end of the world with you
At the end of the world with you

If you travel out to space at the speed of light
Would you send me a letter from a star going by
Can't see too well out here in the dark

Time in the age of the extremes
There's nothing better that I'd rather feel 
Than to scatter all the myths
Bring back a little piece of mind for you and watch the view
At the edge of the end of the world

~  Joey Burns & John Convertino (Calexico)

Love. Light. Time. In the age of the extremes. Sometimes it feels like we're on the edge of the end of the world, doesn't it? Calexico's ninth album, The Thread That Keeps Us, will be released on January 26, but this single has been out since October. Watch the video; the lyrics are craftily displayed there.

Although they've been hanging out in Northern California lately, Calexico is an indie band from Arizona. That desert landscape was certainly inspirational for the band. Most noteworthy in the song is the reference to James Turrell, a fellow Arizonan. Turrell is an artist primarily concerned with light and space. His is a fascinating story, but he may be most known these days for his Roden Crater. Turrell obtained an extinct cinder volcano outside of Flagstaff back in 1979 and for decades has been moving tons of dirt and digging tunnels in order to create a massive naked-eye observatory for experiencing celestial phenomena. The date for completion has passed by several times, and Turrell no longer predicts when his project will be finished. But of his creation, he says this: "I make things that take you up into the sky. But it's not about the landforms. I'm working to bring celestial objects like the sun and moon into the spaces that we inhabit. I apprehend light. I make events that shape or contain light."

Okay then. Perhaps more grounded in the song is the reference to the national parks. As you are aware, the current administration recently announced the decision to shrink Bears Ears National Monument by more than 1.1 million acres (85%) and Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument by 800,000 acres (46%). I have been to most of the canyonlands in Utah, and the beauty of these landscapes is breathtaking. There is only one reason for opening up this land to developers and corporations: the Almighty Dollar. The price we will pay for this raping of the land is unimaginable and unforgivable. Turn up the microphone.

Yes, lately it feels like we are at the edge of the end of the world. Where would you like to watch it end?

American Pie

Listen while you read:  Don McLean

A long, long time ago
I can still remember how
That music used to make me smile
And I knew if I had my chance
That I could make those people dance
And maybe they'd be happy for awhile

But February made me shiver
With every paper I'd deliver
Bad news on the doorstep
I couldn't take one more step

I can't remember if I cried
When I read about his widowed bride
Something touched me deep inside
The day the music died
So

Bye, bye, Miss American Pie
Drove my Chevy to the levee but the levee was dry
And them good ole boys were drinking whiskey and rye
Singin' this will be the day that I die
This'll be the day that I die

Did you write the Book of Love
And do you have faith in God above
If the Bible tells you so?
Do you believe in rock and roll?
Can music save your mortal soul?
And can you tell me how to dance real slow?

Well, I know that you're in love with him
'Cause I saw you dancing in the gym
You both kicked off your shoes
Man, I dig those rhythm and blues
I was a lonely teenage broncin' buck
With a pink carnation and a pickup truck
But I knew I was out of luck
The day the music died
I started singin'

Bye, bye, Miss American Pie
Drove my Chevy to the levee but the levee was dry
And good old boys were drinking whiskey and rye
Singing this'll be the day that I die
This'll be the day that I die

Now for ten years we've been on our own
And moss grows fat on a rolling stone
But that's not how it used to be

When the jester sang for the king and queen
In a coat he borrowed from James Dean
And a voice that came from you and me

Oh, and while the king was looking down
The jester stole his thorny crown
The courtroom was adjourned
No verdict was returned

And while Lennon read a book on Marx
The quartet practiced in the park
And we sang dirges in the dark
The day the music died
And we were singing

Bye, bye, Miss American Pie
Drove my Chevy to the levee but the levee was dry
And good old boys were drinking whiskey and rye
Singing this'll be the day that I die
This'll be the day that I die

Helter skelter in a summer swelter

The birds flew off with a fallout shelter

Eight miles high and falling fast

It landed foul on the grass

The players tried for a forward pass

With the jester on the sidelines in a cast

Now the halftime air was sweet perfume

While sergeants played a marching tune

We all got up to dance

Oh, but we never got the chance

'Cause the players tried to take the field

The marching band refused to yield

Do you recall what was revealed

The day the music died?

We started singing

Bye, bye, Miss American Pie
Drove my Chevy to the levee but the levee was dry
And good old boys were drinking whiskey and rye
Singing this'll be the day that I die
This'll be the day that I die

Oh, and there we were all in one place

A generation lost in space

With no time left to start again

So, come on, Jack, be nimble, Jack, be quick

Jack Flash sat on a candlestick

'Cause fire is a devil's only friend

Oh, and as I watched him on the stage

My hands were clenched in fists of rage

No angel born in Hell

Could break that Satan's spell

And as the flames climbed high into the night

To light the sacrificial rite

I saw Satan laughing with delight

The day the music died

He was singin'

Bye, bye, Miss American Pie
Drove my Chevy to the levee but the levee was dry
And good old boys were drinking whiskey and rye
Singing this'll be the day that I die
This'll be the day that I die

I met a girl who sang the blues

And I asked her for some happy news

But she just smiled and turned away

I went down to the sacred store

Where I'd heard the music years before

But the man there said the music wouldn't play

And in the streets the children screamed

The lovers cried, and the poets dreamed

But not a word was spoken

The church bells all were broken

And the three men I admire most

The Father, Son, and the Holy Ghost

They caught the last train for the coast

The day the music died

And they were singing

Bye, bye, Miss American Pie
Drove my Chevy to the levee but the levee was dry
And good old boys were drinking whiskey and rye
Singing this'll be the day that I die
This'll be the day that I die

Bye, bye, Miss American Pie
Drove my Chevy to the levee but the levee was dry
And good old boys were drinking whiskey and rye
Singing this'll be the day that I die
This'll be the day that I die

~  Don McLean

Phew! Yes, I typed in all those lyrics! Although I cannot verify this, some Internet googling tells me that the 8 minute and 32 second version of "American Pie" was released on this day in 1971. But that was not the day the music died. That day, according to Don McLean, was February 3, 1959, the day Buddy Holly died. As he tells it, he read about the plane crash that claimed Holly, Richie Valens, and the Big Bopper when he was delivering newspapers and read it on the front page. Thinking back on these memories, he wrote the song when he was 26. Fame, as it turned out, was difficult for him.

I remember well, when the song came out, how we tried to decipher all the references in the song. It was reminiscent of the "Paul Is Dead" fiasco in 1969. Minus the advantage of Google, we were giddy over the opportunity to figure things out on our own. It was mysterious, it was compelling, and it was just a little bit creepy. In regard to "American Pie," it was easy to pick out the references to Bob Dylan (the jester), Elvis (the King), The Beatles (Sergeants), The Rolling Stones (at Altamont), and Janis. We were still unclear as to the meaning of the Chevy and the levee, but we figured out enough to allow us a certain smugness in being on top of things.

The religious references were a little bit harder to swallow. What did religion have to do with rock and roll? Well, apparently, Don McLean knew something we didn't, as he turned away from rock and roll and embraced religion fully, post-"American Pie." To each his own.

And the music did not die. Rock and roll is still alive and well, although one may have to wade through rap and hip-hop and all kinds of other diversions to find the music that still has the power to rock your boat. I do that every day. Do you?

Christmas Time Is Here Again

Listen while you read:  Annoyingly adorable . . . or adorably annoying?

(For the original, complete lyrics, go here:  O-U-T spells OUT!)

Christmas time is here again
Christmas time is here again
Christmas time is here again
Christmas time is here again

Ain't been round since you know when
Christmas time is here again
O-U-T spells "out"

~  The Beatles

Okay, I'm sorry! I couldn't resist! You know why? Because it was FIFTY YEARS AGO today that this "song" was released to members of The Beatles' fan club. (It seems like quite a few of my posts are marking fifty years, doesn't it? I guess 1967 was a very productive year!) This uncut 6-minute, 37-second recording is full of skits, improvised nonsense, and jokes. (It was later edited to remove swearing and excessive laughter.) In 1995, the song was reissued as the B-side of Free as a Bird, but trimmed down to three minutes.

I think it was safe to say in mid-December, back in the Sixties, that Christmas was "here again," but these days, it sometimes seems like it never goes away. Who invented "Christmas in July"?? It is not uncommon to walk into a store the day after Labor Day to find Christmas items for sale. Those who like to rant on about a "War on Christmas" are living in some kind of bubble. Christmas is alive and well and omnipresent.

And ten days away. Have I done any shopping? No. Baking? No. Decorating? No. Been there and done that. As much as I cherish my memories of Christmases past, full of all the trappings, I am unencumbered these days. My present to my family is a getaway. We will be spending Christmas on an island in Mexico! There will be eight of us gathered there to celebrate, explore, laugh, tell stories, feast, and raise our glasses. And we have promised each other to keep the "fun" in "dysfunctional."

Whatever holiday you celebrate and however you do that (or don't), I hope you are with someone you love. Love is all you need.

Stars Fell on Alabama

Listen while you read:  Jimmy Buffett

Moonlight and magnolias, starlight in your hair
All the world a dream come true
Did it really happen? Was I really there?
Was I really there with you?

We lived our little drama, we kissed in a field of white
And stars fell on Alabama that night
I can't forget the glamour, your eyes held a tender light
And stars fell on Alabama last night

I never planned in my imagination
A situation so heavenly
A fairyland that no one else could enter
And in the center, just you and me, dear

My heart beat like a hammer
My arms wound around you tight
And stars fell on Alabama last night
. . . 

~  Frank Perkins & Mitchell Parish (1934)

Did it really happen? I'm speaking, of course, of Doug Jones' win over Roy Moore for the Alabama Senate seat in Tuesday's special election. I'm not sure which is the greater emotion in the land . . . joy or relief. And it does not escape me that we live in a time when we can feel grateful that there will not be a known pedophile in Congress. My plan for today's post had been to find a song about shooting stars in celebration of the Geminid meteor showers. How fortunate to find a song that celebrates both the stars and Alabama at the same time! Although it was Guy Lombardo who made the song famous, I chose a Jimmy Buffett version because . . . . well, because I'm feeling as giddy as a Parrothead! Jimmy's version appears on 1981's Coconut Telegraph.

In November 1833, there was a spectacular occurrence of the Leonid meteor showers in Alabama (and other parts of the country) in which there were estimated to be 30,000 meteors an hour! (Compare that to last night's predicted 120 meteors an hour!) Needless to say, many people freaked out, thinking it was the end of the world. One hundred years later, a book of essays about the event was published, and then Perkins and Parish wrote their song.

The Geminids are named for the constellation Gemini. I will let you do your own googling to further understand the phenomenon of meteor showers. But the event produces "fireballs," which are meteors brighter than magnitude -4, the same magnitude as the planet Venus! And the shooting stars are known to travel at a speed of 79,000 mph! This is all just amazing, isn't it? Not unlike a Democrat winning a Senate seat in Alabama.

I was awake before dawn this morning, hoping for a sighting, despite a low of 44 degrees here in South Florida. (At least that's twice as warm as back home in New Jersey!) Unfortunately, too much artificial light ruined my chances. I did see a plane make its way across the sky, which my imagination turned into a star. And I made a wish. As Jiminy Cricket crooned to us all those years ago:

When you wish upon a star
Makes no difference who you are
Anything your heart desires 
Will come to you

If your heart is in your dreams
No request is too extreme
When you wish upon a star
As dreamers do

Perhaps you can guess what I wished for. It begins with "im" and ends with "ment." And there may be a peach in the middle.

Hanukkah Blessings

Listen while you read:  Barenaked Ladies

How lucky are we
That we have lights so that we can see
Although day is done
What a miracle that a spark
Lifts these candles out of the dark
Every evening one by one
Until the end of Hanukkah
Of Hanukkah

With the jingle bells and the toys
And the TV shows and the noise
It's easy to forget
At the end of the day
Our whole family will say
These words for Hanukkah

Barukh Atah Adonai
Elohaynu Melekh h'olom
Asher kid 'shanu b'mitzvotav v'tzivanu
L'hadlik nehr shel hanukkah

("Blessed are You, Lord our God, Ruler of the Universe,
who has sanctified us with commandments
and commanded us to light Hanukkah candles")

We light the candles for Hanukkah
For Hanukkah

We remember how Maccabees
Fought so all of us could be free
And so we celebrate
On this festival of the lights
There's a joyful time every night
Where we illuminate
The candles of Hanukkah
Of Hanukkah

Barukh Atah Adonai
Elohaynu Melekh h'olom
She'asah neesim l'avotaynu
Bayamin hahem ba'zman hazeh
Hanukkah
Hanukkah

("Blessed are You, Lord our God, Ruler of the Universe
Who performed wonders for our ancestors in those 
Ancient days at this season")

~  Steven Page (for Barenaked Ladies)

You can thank me for not recycling the Adam Sandler "Chanukah Song," right? Barenaked Ladies, a Canadian band, put out Barenaked for the Holidays in 2004. The album contains both Christmas and Hanukkah songs, along with songs about winter and the traditional "Auld Lang Syne." Today is the first day of Hanukkah, so blessings to all.

I am a non-Jew, so forgive me if I get any of this wrong. Hanukkah celebrates the rededication of the temple by the Maccabees in 167 BC after fighting the Syrians for three years. As the story is told, they had enough oil to light the Menorah (which symbolizes the light of God's presence) for one day, but it burned for eight days. It was considered a miracle and is celebrated with love and honor by the Jewish community.

While I am not a fan of organized religion, I have great respect for tradition, whether religious or ethnic or patriotic or communal or family-based. My children had dreidels and read storybooks about Hanukkah. We ate latkes and applesauce on Hanukkah, despite the fact that we were not Jewish. While I will not be participating in those rituals this year, I am mindful of the devotion to faith by those who will. Chag Urim Sameach!

How to end this post? Sorry, I can't resist:

Tell your friend Veronica
It's time to celebrate Chanukah
I hope I get a harmonica
Oh, this lovely, lovely Chanukah
So drink your gin and tonicah
And smoke your marijuanikah
If you really, really wannakah
Have a happy, happy, happy, happy Chanukah
Happy Chanukah!

No Roots

Listen while you read:  Alice Merton

I like digging holes and hiding things inside them
When I grow old, I hope I won't forget to find them
'Cause I've got memories and travel like gypsies in the night

I build a home and wait for someone to tear it down
Then pack it up in boxes, head for the next town running
'Cause I've got memories and travel like gypsies in the night

And a thousand times I've seen this road
A thousand times

I've got no roots, but my home was never on the ground
I've got no roots, but my home was never on the ground
I've got no roots . . . 

I like standing still, but that's just a wishful plan
Ask me where I come from, I'll say a different land
But I've got memories and travel like gypsies in the night

I count gates and numbers, then play the guessing game
It's just the place that changes, the rest is still the same
But I've got memories and travel like gypsies in the night

I've got no roots, but my home was never on the ground
I've got no roots, but my home was never on the ground
I've got no roots . . . 

I like digging holes, hiding things inside them
When I grow old, I won't forget to find them
'Cause I've got memories and travel like gypsies in the night

~  Alice Merton & Nicolas Rebscher

Catchy, huh? Alice Merton, all of 23 years old, has moved between cities in Canada, Germany, England, and America eleven times. Tiring of people asking her where "home" is, she wrote this song to make herself feel better. Well, if having a #1 song in Germany can make one feel better, she wins. The song was released as an EP earlier this year in America and seems to be getting a lot of airplay. I like it, although I do admit that it can be an earworm.

When she was 16, Merton moved from Canada to Germany. Feeling lost, she would fill and bury time capsules in her backyard. I like digging holes and hiding things inside them. She would also carve secret messages into her school desks. The first song she wrote was about a lighthouse, as if one would help her find her way home. According to her, "No Roots" is about "never being grounded to a certain place, but having your home with people who love you." But she also admits to a double meaning. "Those who know me well know that I'm up in the clouds 90% of the time--very much a day dreamer."

I have roots. I've spent roughly 90% of my life in the same county, and although I feel less and less connected to that community, I still consider it "home." I love to travel, and I now spend my winters in a different state, but my little acre of paradise in New Jersey will always be home. 'Cause I've got memories.

Do you have roots? If you do, nourish them. And if you don't, embrace the gypsy inside!

Mrs. Robinson

Listen while you read:  Simon & Garfunkel

And here's to you, Mrs. Robinson
Jesus loves you more than you will know
Wo, wo, wo
God bless you, please, Mrs. Robinson
Heaven holds a place for those who pray
Hey, hey, hey
Hey, hey, hey

We'd like to know a little bit about you for our files
We'd like to help you learn to help yourself
Look around you, all you see are sympathetic eyes
Stroll around the grounds until you feel at home

And here's to you, Mrs. Robinson
Jesus loves you more than you will know
Wo, wo, wo
God bless you, please, Mrs. Robinson
Heaven holds a place for those who pray
Hey, hey, hey
Hey, hey, hey

Hide it in the hiding place where no one ever goes
Put it in your pantry with your cupcakes
It's a little secret, just the Robinson's affair
Most of all, you've got to hide it from the kids

Koo-koo-ka-choo, Mrs. Robinson
Jesus loves you more than you will know
Wo, wo, wo
Gold bless you, please, Mrs. Robinson
Heaven holds a place for those who pray
Hey, hey, hey
Hey, hey, hey

Sitting on a sofa on a Sunday afternoon
Going to the candidates' debate
Laugh about it, shout about it
When you've got to choose
Every way you look at it, you lose

Where have you gone, Joe DiMaggio?
Our nation turns its lonely eyes to you
Wu, wu, wu
What's that you say, Mrs. Robinson?
Joltin' Joe has left and gone away
Hey, hey, hey
Hey, hey, hey

~  Paul Simon (for Simon & Garfunkel)

"Mrs. Robinson, you're trying to seduce me." If you are of a certain age, you cannot forget that line, delivered by Dustin Hoffman to Anne Bancroft in the 1967 movie, The Graduate. That movie, in fact, was released this month fifty years ago! The song, "Mrs. Robinson," was part of the soundtrack, but also appeared on Simon & Garfunkel's fourth album, Bookends, released in 1968.

As coincidence would have it, it was on this day in 1951 that Joe DiMaggio announced his retirement from baseball. Where have you gone, Joe DiMaggio? And why is he referred to in the song? Paul Simon was a Yankees fan and more fond of Mickey Mantle than Joe DiMaggio. When asked on The Dick Cavett Show why Mantle wasn't mentioned in the song instead of DiMaggio, Simon replied, "It's about syllables. It's about how many beats there are." After DiMaggio's death in 1999, Simon said this: "We mourn the loss of his grace and dignity, his fierce sense of privacy, his fidelity to the memory of his wife, and the power of his silence." It is interesting to note how relatively easy it is to be remembered as a hero. Future public figures, take note.

I remember well when The Graduate came out. I was a senior in high school, intimidated by the prospect of leaving home for college. I remember watching the scenes that were filmed at the University of Southern California (referred to in the movie as Berkeley) and being frozen in fear that in a few months, I would be living on a college campus, albeit not in California. And that fear tied right in with the general theme of "loss of innocence" that pervaded the movie. I also remember that classic line that Mr. McGuire delivered to Benjamin in regard to his future: "Just one word: plastics." Oh, if he only knew!

Aside from its connection to the movie, "Mrs. Robinson" is a catchy little tune that belies its somber content. The loneliness, the discontent, the sorry remedy for all of our unhappiness . . . it's all there in a jaunty little melody that easily gets stuck in the head. Is it stuck in yours right now?

You're welcome.