It's 4:27 on Sunday afternoon. I pledged to not write anything or record anything or stream anything or compose anything today. But yesterday I ran into Carole Terry, who is a charter member of the three or four of you.
"Keep writing," Carole said as she walked away. We were in the St. Thomas More Church. She was there for her granddaughter's confirmation. I was there for my niece Annie's confirmation. My daughter Jackie was her sponsor.
"Keep writing," Carole said as she walked away. We were in the St. Thomas More Church. She was there for her granddaughter's confirmation. I was there for my niece Annie's confirmation. My daughter Jackie was her sponsor.
So on a Sunday afternoon in which I really was not gonna CREATE anything, I am haunted by the words of a woman in her 70s who still teaches Special Ed every day during the Fall, Winter and Spring. In the summer, she doesn't teach Special Ed.
"I've been poor all my life," Carole said. "Now I have a little bit of money. People tell me I should travel, but I don't want to travel. I like it here."
There's a lesson in there from one of the charter members of the three or four of you. I like it here, too, I suppose. But I just wish I could go a full day without doing some radio, taking some pictures, doing a video, writing a blog, or even writing a song.
Yep. Once in a while I write songs. They're not very good. Or at best they're just palatable, like the radio that I do every weekday and the live videos and this blog and the photos that I take. Here's the deal behind the song. For Mother's Day or our anniversary or her birthday, I often write Alexis a heartfelt short essay inside a Hallmark card. Or I write her a poem.
But with all the CREATING going on elsewhere, I haven't been able to spit out the poem that I should for her being a good mother. So I wrote her a song instead. I've written her songs before, but they've been mostly bawdy barroom choruses laced with sex and debauchery. And since I'm on AM radio five days a week, I'll keep it just clean enough not to score any unmentionables.
But I will write down the song that I wrote for my wife of 24 years for Mother's Day. I want to preface this with I'm not really the mushy type but in the end when someone saves your life, you can step out of your comfort zone. Besides, if I don't write the song down now ("Keep Writing"), it'll be lost forever and who in God's name likes the sound of anything being lost forever.
Unless it's a wart or herpes or a bad case of foot odor. That you could allow to be lost forever. But a song? One that you wrote to your wife in a weak moment? It's called
You Have Loved Me
D
I've been in love with you
from the moment we met.
There's so many moments
I don't wanna forget.
G C D
Because you have loved me.
G C D
You have loved me.
D
Across the room
I watched you dance
Somehow I knew
it was my only chance
G C D
That you would love me.
G C D
That you would love me.
The warmth you gave
a drowning man
blocked the curse
of a lonely land.
Because you did love me.
You did love me.
Always busy and
the kitchen's a mess.
We made it through
without any rest.
Because you could love me.
You could love me.
I've been in love with you
since we first met.
There's so many moments
I don't wanna forget.
Because you have loved me.
You have loved me.
"I've been poor all my life," Carole said. "Now I have a little bit of money. People tell me I should travel, but I don't want to travel. I like it here."
There's a lesson in there from one of the charter members of the three or four of you. I like it here, too, I suppose. But I just wish I could go a full day without doing some radio, taking some pictures, doing a video, writing a blog, or even writing a song.
Yep. Once in a while I write songs. They're not very good. Or at best they're just palatable, like the radio that I do every weekday and the live videos and this blog and the photos that I take. Here's the deal behind the song. For Mother's Day or our anniversary or her birthday, I often write Alexis a heartfelt short essay inside a Hallmark card. Or I write her a poem.
But with all the CREATING going on elsewhere, I haven't been able to spit out the poem that I should for her being a good mother. So I wrote her a song instead. I've written her songs before, but they've been mostly bawdy barroom choruses laced with sex and debauchery. And since I'm on AM radio five days a week, I'll keep it just clean enough not to score any unmentionables.
But I will write down the song that I wrote for my wife of 24 years for Mother's Day. I want to preface this with I'm not really the mushy type but in the end when someone saves your life, you can step out of your comfort zone. Besides, if I don't write the song down now ("Keep Writing"), it'll be lost forever and who in God's name likes the sound of anything being lost forever.
Unless it's a wart or herpes or a bad case of foot odor. That you could allow to be lost forever. But a song? One that you wrote to your wife in a weak moment? It's called
You Have Loved Me
D
I've been in love with you
from the moment we met.
There's so many moments
I don't wanna forget.
G C D
Because you have loved me.
G C D
You have loved me.
D
Across the room
I watched you dance
Somehow I knew
it was my only chance
G C D
That you would love me.
G C D
That you would love me.
The warmth you gave
a drowning man
blocked the curse
of a lonely land.
Because you did love me.
You did love me.
Always busy and
the kitchen's a mess.
We made it through
without any rest.
Because you could love me.
You could love me.
I've been in love with you
since we first met.
There's so many moments
I don't wanna forget.
Because you have loved me.
You have loved me.
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