Tuesday, September 22, 2009

::two-legged memorials to the laws of happenstance

Over the weekend, I was very blessed to spend lots of quality time with my dear friends Zachary and Erin.
After dinner on Saturday evening, we discussed one of my all-time favorite musicians/songwriters, the late Rich Mullins.
We noted our shared affinity for his gorgeous song, Here in America.
Some of the phrases in these lyrics feel almost otherworldly, they are so brilliantly joyful and poignant.
I have included them here, after the video.
Enjoy.


Here In America - Rich Mullins


Saints and children we have gathered here to hear the sacred story
And I'm glad to bring it to you with my best rhyming and rhythm
'Cause I know the thirsty listen and down to the waters come
And the Holy King of Israel loves me here in America

And if you listen to my songs I hope you hear the water falling
I hope you feel the oceans crashing on the coast of north New England
I wish I could be there just to see them, two summers past I was
And the Holy King of Israel loves me here in America

And if I were a painter I do not know which I'd paint
The calling of the ancient stars or assembling of the saints
And there's so much beauty around us for just two eyes to see
But everywhere I go I'm looking

And once I went to Appalachia for my father he was born there
And I saw the mountains waking with the innocence of children
And my soul is still there with them wrapped in the songs they brought
And the Holy King of Israel loves me here in America

And I've seen by the highways on a million exit ramps
Those two-legged memorials to the laws of happenstance
Waiting for four-wheeled messiahs to take them home again
But I am home anywhere if You are where I am

And if you listen to my songs I hope you hear the water falling
I hope you feel the oceans crashing on the coast of north New England
I wish I could be there just to see them, two summers past I was
And the Holy King of Israel loves me here in America

Thursday, September 17, 2009

::if I had a hammer

Early this morning, while driving to my brother's house, I heard some upsetting news.

"Mary Travers has died."



Folk is, by far, my favorite genre of music, its raw simplicity a constant source of solace and joy for my sensitive soul.

I vividly remember the moments when this adoration presented itself.
I was riding in a car with my lifelong "bff" Annie on the way home from Meijer.
The fact that she was moving to Utah that week hung suspended in the air like a pungent odor, its nefarious tentacles dangerously close to our membranes.

She asked if she could play Peter, Paul and Mary for me, and I agreed, secretly thinking, Umm, my parents listen to them...are you serious?

As the music softly swelled to its apex, however, I found myself transfixed.
As much as Leavin' on a Jet Plane has been dismissed, maligned, and ridiculed, it remains, to me, a powerful lament of bittersweet melancholy.
The strong, rich vocals by Mary Travers, fused with gentle harmony by Peter Yarrow and Paul Stookey, somehow managed to isolate all the emotions I could not even identify, extract and soothe every gnawing anxiety.
As Annie and I joined our voices with the chorus, inhaling the palpable reality, I was forever changed.

Years later, I went with my parents to see Peter, Paul and Mary perform live at Meadowbrook Theatre.
My parents, rarely fans of Public Displays of Affection, sat cuddled together as they swayed and sang along to Where Have All the Flowers Gone?
I still recall the tranquil grandeur of that breezy summer evening with a deeply crystallized fondness.

I am certain that I am merely one of thousands who, if not for Mary Travers, would never have shared such precious, intimate moments of sheer delight and poignancy.

For that, I am forever grateful, both to her and for her.

Saturday, September 12, 2009

::television, here I come...

I've always loved this questionnaire, posed to every guest by James Lipton on Inside the Actors Studio.



I decided to take a stab at it.

=====

What is your favorite word?
Shalom

What is your least favorite word?
Fat

What turns you on?
Compassion and laughter

What turns you off?
Insensitivity

What sound or noise do you love?
The laughter of people I love

What sound or noise do you hate?
Angry shouting

What is your favorite curse word?
F*#!

What profession other than yours would you like to attempt?
I really want Samantha Brown's job

What profession other than yours would you not like to attempt?
Mathematician

If Heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates?
"I love you, Stacey."

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