Write Away...

"Siano gradite davanti a te le parole della mia bocca e la meditazione del mio cuore, o Eterno, mia rocca e mio redentore." -Psalm 19:14

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Località: West Linn, Oregon, United States

"Perhaps it would be better not to be a writer, but if you must, then write. If it all feels hopeless, if that famous 'inspiration' will not come, write. If you are a genius, you'll make your own rules, but if not - and the odds are against it - go to your desk, no matter what your mood, face the icy challenge of the paper - write." ~ J.B. Priestly

gennaio 30, 2005

Vernon

I didn't write this, but I came across the lyrics to this song the other day when I was cleaning out a box in my closet. When I was in 5th grade, my teacher, Mr. Snook, wrote this song about a man named Vernon, who was in the war at Normandy. He wrote it, and then added the last stanza after it became a class tradition to go outside after school and take the flag down from the pole in the afternoons. When we were that age, taking down the flag was a huge thing for us; we treated the event with much respect, carefully folding and handling the flag with child-like delicacy. We knew what that flag represented. And we were proud, even that young.
So Mr. Snook wrote this song, and brought out his guitar every day at lunch to teach it to us bit by bit, so that we could sing it with him. We'd sit in a circle in the center of the classroom, the tables and chairs pushed aside, and marveled at his voice, his guitar, and learning the words to this song. I still catch myself singing it sometimes. :)
_______________________
"Vernon"

Talking as if the sky had ears,
Walking his block and sifting through the years,
In 44' they were wild and young,
When Vernon and those sonny boys enlisted one by one,
Seemed like a good idea at the time,
A ticket out, gonna see the world a new,
Soon a point on a map became a line in the sand,
Shoulder to shoulder, man to man to man,

They stormed the beach at Normandy,
Giving it up for God, freedom, and country,
From smoke and thunder, to fear and bone,
To a hero's welcome
When Vernon came home,

But home was somehow different now,
A little less crazy, a few less friends to call,
But life finds a rhythm sooner or later,
He moved out west and fell in love forever,

And the days drift by,
Vernon has his hobbies, grandkids, and a wife,
And far away, the tide
Is taking that beach yet one more time,
In his way, he tries
Keeping his faith in you and me alive,

Helping the school kids in the afternoon,
Bringing in the flag and just,
Doing what children do,
A little bit tattered, a little bit worn,
Little hands together,
Keeping it from the storm.