Songwriting at its best. . .

WHATSHERNAME
Stookey/Dixon/Kniss- Neworld Media Music Publishers ASCAP

Jimmy McGregor, hey, Jimmy, come here!
Jimmy you son of a gun!
What 'cha been doin'? How long has it been?
Hell, seven years if it's been one.

How's the preacher? How's Don, did he go back to school?
(No kidding, I thought he was gay!)
Who me? Oh, I'm great! I'm a father you know.
Yeah, two of 'em and one on the way.

Oh, well, she couldn't make it, she gets pretty tired,
She started her last month today.
I only came up for a couple of minutes,
Believe me, I wish I could stay.

Oh, and yeah while I think of it, do you remember,
Not for myself, for a friend.
A girl that I brought here, before I got married
A couple of times at the end.

Whatshername? She hardly knew me;
Now her name means something to me.
I wonder if she ever got over me?

Anyway I should be flattered
For yesterday at least I mattered
Where did it go?

Jimmy I tell you we're two lucky guys
You've got everything that you've planned.
And all things considered I've done fairly well
I mean God's honest truth, man
I love Ruth and Whatshername?

I thought I knew her, Whatshername?
What happened to her,
I don't know why I'll never forget
Whatshername?

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If you feel there's a presence. . .

. . . or uneasiness, but you clearly are all alone, those feelings you're feeling seem somewhat out of sync. Tell me, what would you like to drink? There are so many stories everyone here can tell. History full of of color; tragedy too. Such things may weigh heavy. Filled with fear, eyes will blink. We say, what would you like to drink?

Sometimes the weather can get hot. And passion's sure to rise here. It's happened so much in the past. The poet-son who watched his parents' suicide; the yellow fever victims here, with those long gone, still survive. Back some years, goes the story, controversy abounds; love and murder, some mystery in our town. Such intrigue we get through printed pages and ink. Can I please get you something to drink? Midst of all the excitement, everyone chose their side. RIght or wrong, there's no middle; nowhere to hide. He was one upstanding citizen, don't you think? So now, what would you like to drink?

Things aren't always what they seem or how we'd like them to be. They're only just the way they are. But sometimes, just beneath the surface, something we never saw. We're not sure it's dead or still alive. You can see the old movie. Read the book better still. Fill in all of the details; a little thrill. Bartender on Drayton said "Ghosts sell" with a wink. Say now, what would you like to drink?

©2008 Raymond M. Jozwiak



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Sunday. . .

. . . seems like an appropriate day to quote everybody's favorite atheist. . .

"That which can be asserted without evidence, can be dismissed without evidence."

"[O]wners of dogs will have noticed that, if you provide them with food and water and shelter and affection, they will think you are god. Whereas owners of cats are compelled to realize that, if you provide them with food and water and shelter and affection, they draw the conclusion that they are gods."

"Many religions now come before us with ingratiating smirks and outspread hands, like an unctuous merchant in a bazaar. They offer consolation and solidarity and uplift, competing as they do in a marketplace. But we have a right to remember how barbarically they behaved when they were strong and were making an offer that people could not refuse."

"Human decency is not derived from religion. It precedes it."

"[Mother Teresa] was not a friend of the poor. She was a friend of poverty. She said that suffering was a gift from God. She spent her life opposing the only known cure for poverty, which is the empowerment of women and the emancipation of them from a livestock version of compulsory reproduction."

"The governor of Texas, who, when asked if the Bible should also be taught in Spanish, replied that 'if English was good enough for Jesus, then it's good enough for me."

"Exceptional claims demand exceptional evidence."

"To "choose" dogma and faith over doubt and experience is to throw out the ripening vintage and to reach greedily for the Kool-Aid. "

"Organised religion is violent, irrational, intolerant, allied to racism, tribalism, and bigotry, invested in ignorance and hostile to free inquiry, contemptuous of women and coercive toward children."

"I suppose that one reason I have always detested religion is its sly tendency to insinuate the idea that the universe is designed with 'you' in mind or, even worse, that there is a divine plan into which one fits whether one knows it or not. This kind of modesty is too arrogant for me."

. . . Christopher Hitchens



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LVJ

You were always in the right place at the right time when I needed you to be there, in the rain or shine. And I don;'t believe I ever heard a word of complaint. Sometimes there was not a word at all. You were always there to give me the direction true. Now it's time I must be there for you.

In a world where there is danger and uncertainty, you were there to give me comfort and security. You were like the sun upon which could be counted to rise. Like the rain you gave what made me grow. And though now things seem confusing, I can't make you see. I'll be here 'cause you were there for me.

©2010 Raymond M. Jozwiak
(Thanks Mom. I Love You.)



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You Couldn't Play The Music. . .

. . . so you made up your own. . .

That's what the father of another accordion student said to me at the conclusion of accordion practice on the night I chose as my solo, a song that I made up. . . I mean. . . an original composition. In fact, it was my very first original composition, to the best of my knowledge.

The piece was entitled THE NEW YORK STRANGERS. It was essentially, half blues and half folk song. Literally. It was not verse- chorus-verse-chorus, or verse-chorus-bridge-verse-chorus. It was first-part-second-part (repeat). It had lyrics. Very simple lyrics which I, unfortunately (and embarrassingly) do remember so will not repeat here. It was inspired by. . . nothing in particular but the need to write an original composition. Well, isn't that ENOUGH?

And the comment from the other student's parent seems quite ruthless in print. It was, in fact, delivered quite humorously (and kiddingly) by a man who had quite a fine sense of humor with no offense intended and none, indeed, taken.

In retrospect, quite possibly (make that DEFINITELY) the best part of the entire experience, and the finest nuance of the memory, is the look of pride on my very own father's face as I received congratulations from several listeners that evening.


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The Poet Said. . .

. . . 'trailing clouds of glory we come. . . '

Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting:
The Soul that rises with us, our life's Star,
Hath had elsewhere its setting,
And cometh from afar:
Not in entire forgetfulness,
And not in utter nakedness,
But trailing clouds of glory do we come
From God, who is our home:
Heaven lies about us in our infancy!
Shades of the prison-house begin to close
Upon the growing Boy,
But he beholds the light, and whence it flows,
He sees it in his joy;
The Youth, who daily farther from the east
Must travel, still is Nature's priest,
And by the vision splendid
Is on his way attended;
At length the Man perceives it die away,
And fade into the light of common day.

from:
Ode
Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood
by William Wordsworth.


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Heard somebody say. . .

. . . they overheard you just the other day; a simple word about the way we get along. If only I were sure of the semantics. Having doubts 'cause I'm one hopeless romantic. Could it be you're slipping away from me? What will I do if what I'm thinking is true? And you want to be really free of me? I won't last very long very far from your heart. And this third-hand intelligence might be the way that it starts.

Heard somebody say they thought they saw you just the other day. You were not alone they said he didn't look like me. Thinking to myself, "must be mistaken." Try not to believe but still badly shaken. Why would you deceive me in things you do. So many years! Sharing our laughter and tears. . . lasted very long. Maybe I was wrong not to ask you why you feel we've drifted apart and this third-hand intelligence might be the way that it starts.

Are my sources reliable? Wait and see. Wait and see. Is my psyche too pliable? It could be. It could be. . .

If somebody said, "the sky was falling, soon we'll all be dead, have to quit our stalling, try to be prepared," would you believe it's true or would you question all the things you do and change your direction from spinning round when it hits the ground? That's just not true. Any believers are few. When you've seen it all it could never fall any more than I think you could tear us apart. And this third-hand intelligence might be the way that it starts.


Hear THIRD-HAND INTELLIGENCE
©1997 Raymond M. Jozwiak


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