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Make You Feel My Love

  Week Forty-four: Make You Feel My Love I’ve known it from the moment that we met No doubt in my mind where you belong I’d go hungry, I’d go black and blue I’d go crawling down the avenue Know there’s nothing that I wouldn’t do To make you feel my love —Adele, Make You Feel My Love from the album 19  (written by Bob Dylan from Time Out of Mind) Ever since I began this project, I have written essays based on songs that I hear. Songs from the radio usually, but every once in a while I’ll get one from unlikely sources like television commercials or background music supporting a reel on Facebook. Such was the case for this song. I recognized Adele’s voice, that’s easy, but had no clue about the song, so I played it over several times in an effort to get even a partial lyric. Once that was done, a Google search led me to Make You Feel My Love . For fans of Adele it might have been much easier, but at least I had found the name of the song and could read the lyrics for myself. And like so
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A Song for You

  Week Forty-three: A Song for You I love you in a place where there's no space and time I love you for my life, you are a friend of mine And when my life is over Remember when we were together  We were alone and I was singing this song to you —Leon Russell, A Song for You , from Leon Russell Although I really don’t know why, recently when I heard A Song for You , which I have heard many, many times before, I thought of my friend Dyann Peters. Dyann and I weren’t ordinary friends. In fact, we never met. Years ago I discovered a time-consuming app in which one player would draw something using a simple palette of colors. The second player was required to watch long enough to guess what was being drawn. That’s probably not enough description, but somehow, some way I found Dyann. Or she found me. One thing we had in common was we always waited for the person drawing to finish before we guessed. Other random players would fill in the blanks as soon as they had a good idea of what was b
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As

  Week Forty-two: As We all know sometimes life hates and troubles Can make you wish you were born in another time and space But you can bet your lifetimes that and twice it's double That God knew exactly where he wanted you to be placed So make sure when you say you’re in it, but not of it You’re not helping to make this earth A place sometimes called Hell Change your words into truths And then change that truth into love And maybe our children’s grandchildren And their great grandchildren will tell I’ll be loving you —Stevie Wonder, As, from the album Songs In the Key of Life Things are so fucked up that I can’t make sense of them. We all know sometimes life hates and troubles Can make you wish you were born in another time and space An immoral, corrupt, vile, immature, name-calling, narcissistic, egotistical, racist asshole is the Republican candidate for the most powerful position on Earth, and  I struggle to understand why. I don’t even want to understand how, but I think I k
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The Way It Is

  41 Week Forty-one: The Way It Is Said hey, little boy, you can’t go where the others go “Cause you don’t look like they do Said hey, old man, how can you stand to think that way? Did you really think about it before you made the rules? He said, Son, that’s just the way it is Some things will never change That’s just the way it is Ah, but don’t you believe them — Bruce Hornsby, The Way It Is from the album The Way It Is My friend of some 28 years came with one of her friends to visit us and the Greensboro, NC area where we live. As unlike we two appear (and I mean that literally and figuratively) we are friends. She’s short; I’m not. I’m fluffy; she’s not. She’s a woman, and although I’m not, she refers to me as one of her best girlfriends. She is an ordained Christian minister; I’m about as far from that as is possible. I enjoy an ardent spirit; she rarely if ever does. She’s black. I’m not. We first met when she was appointed as assistant principal at the high school where I was th
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Blank Stares

  Week Forty: Blank Stares   Oh how do I get you back If I could only seal the cracks you’re slipping through Wish I didn’t feel so helpless when it comes to helping you Hold on So I keep holding on To every little memory made of you and me Every little glimpse of who you used to be I know you’re still in there Deep down somewhere I swear I still see you Between the blank stares — Jay Allen, Blank Stares, from the album Blank Stares I sometimes imagine this life in terms of an endless line of people. When a person is  born, he or she takes a place at the back. I measure the experience on the line by how much closer we are getting toward the front. Those at the very front are excused. When we are pulled from the line before the front is achieved, the result can be devastating for those still waiting. In its own way, my metaphor for life is ridiculous; I know that. It’s the concept of dying too soon that sticks with me. I call that “getting out of line.” Even those who have been on line
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Behind Blue Eyes

  Week Thirty-nine: Behind Blue Eyes …and if I swallow anything evil put your finger down my throat and if I shiver, please give me a blanket keep me warm, let me wear your coat —The Who, Behind Blue Eyes, from the album Who’s Next? On a warm Saturday in July I sat with our dog Leon on a bench provided for old guys or old guys with dogs while our granddaughter, her mother, and Gwaz searched the various buildings of the craft village we were visiting. From my vantage point I could see the tourists coming and going from one building to the other and between them to the petting zoo stocked mostly with goats. Strategically located near the entrance to the goat enclosures was a vending machine swallowing quarters in exchange for a handful of  goat munchies. It was popular to say the least. I couldn’t help but notice one particular grandma who seemed to have an endless supply of quarters, of which she was more than willing to part. She called to her granddaughter who was intent on rushing pa
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Roy Rogers

  Week Thirty-eight: Roy Rogers Sometimes you dream, sometimes it seems There’s nothing there at all You just seem older than yesterday And you’re waiting for someone to call You draw the curtains and one thing’s for certain You’re cozy in your little room The carpet’s all paid for, God bless the TV Let’s shoot a hole in the moon Oh, Roy Rogers is riding tonight Returning to our silver screens Comic book characters never grow old Evergreen heroes whose stories were told Oh the great sequin cowboy who sings of the plains Of roundups and rustlers and home on the range Turn on the TV, shut out the lights Roy Rogers is riding tonight   —Elton John, Roy Rogers , from Goodbye Yellow Brick Road I heard Roy Rogers a while ago and coincidentally just after a discussion I had with our eldest granddaughter about my opinion of Goodbye Yellow Brick Road . My opinion, of course, is that GYBR is Elton John’s masterpiece. Along with lyricist Bernie Taupin, they created start-to-finish, a singular mu
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