Ch-ch-ch-ch-Changes
It’s said that tastes change every seven years and that we are never the same person we started out to be. In many ways this is a good thing - in others, not so good.
~I still don't know what I was waiting for - And my time was running wild~
For a number of years now, I’ve attempted to remember my childhood. I’m totally fascinated when people tell me stories from when they were quite young… and, if the truth were known, a bit jealous too. I have three memories of being very young. One is the time I got hit just above my right eye with a rock. I’ve been told that happened when we lived in Mississippi and I still have the scar. It makes my eyelid droop just a bit on the outside. The feelings from that time are of panic. I don’t know - and no one has been able to tell me - what happened. Evidently I just came in the door to the house this way. But I do remember the rock and an open field.
The second is of walking down a gravel road ditch… the grass nearly as tall as I was on my right and the dust from the gravel hanging in the air on my left. I must have been lost since even to this day I can feel the panic… muted by time of course and I wonder why that three-year-old child was abandoned.
The third memory is also from that age. And this memory is a peaceful one. Me sitting in a sandbox watching black and white cows walk by on the other side of a wire fence. There really isn’t anything noteworthy about this memory but it’s as clear in my mind as if I am still there watching those contented bovines meander along the fence.
~Every time I thought I'd got it made - it seemed the taste was not so sweet~
I’m not the jealous type when it comes to other people’s abilities. I actually feel proud for them… whether I know them or not. Perhaps I learned that in first grade in Smyrna, Tennessee. First grade in that school was in a small building behind the main school building. I remember it had a pot-bellied stove and when it was time for Show and Tell, we’d stand in front of that stove to share what we had. I don’t recall ever getting up then - I was painfully shy and truly thought I had nothing to contribute to the class. But I do remember, and will until my dying day, the young boy that every day would get up in front of the class and tell stories… of what had happened to him the previous evening or weekend. That was my very first crush… and every so often I think of him… standing there in his size-too-large bib overalls with his hands in his pockets, hair needing cutting badly, painting images with words and taking me to a life I couldn’t even imagine. Today I realize he was dirt poor but also rich in family and love. It’s one of my wishes that this small boy grew up to become a storyteller of the first mark!
~So I turned myself to face me - but I've never caught a glimpse~
One of the significant problems of my life is that I’ve never had a goal… something that grabbed my soul and gave me a passion to do… or be more than what or who I am. I've simply existed. And looking back now, I mourn the time I’ve wasted. Yes, I raised my children to be good, kind, caring people - but one can’t live through their children or grandchildren. I’ve tried to live my life with honestly and truth but is that enough? Mid-life crisis? Perhaps… Maybe it’s laziness? Or a lack of ‘want-to’? I’m not sure. As I study the years that have been and think about the years that I have left, I know I must - MUST - find that elusive passion and embrace it wholly. Otherwise, my life is no more than a falling leaf and shouldn’t have been.
~I watch the ripples change their size - But never leave the stream - So the days float through my eyes - But still the days seem the same~
So, we come to the time when change must be embraced… but I can’t change just for change’s sake. It is essential to my spirit to find a passion… to learn to live that passion… to devote my days and nights to that passion until it is the sun of my existene. I don’t know if I have those sparks within my soul. But if it turns out that I have, then this life won’t be a total waste after all.
~Pretty soon you're gonna get a little older
Time may change me
But I can't trace time
I said that time may change me
But I can't change time
Ch-ch-ch-ch-Changes
(Turn and face the strange)
Ch-ch-Changes
Oh, look out you rock 'n rollers
Ch-ch-ch-ch-Changes
(Turn and face the strange)
Ch-ch-Changes~
~I still don't know what I was waiting for - And my time was running wild~
For a number of years now, I’ve attempted to remember my childhood. I’m totally fascinated when people tell me stories from when they were quite young… and, if the truth were known, a bit jealous too. I have three memories of being very young. One is the time I got hit just above my right eye with a rock. I’ve been told that happened when we lived in Mississippi and I still have the scar. It makes my eyelid droop just a bit on the outside. The feelings from that time are of panic. I don’t know - and no one has been able to tell me - what happened. Evidently I just came in the door to the house this way. But I do remember the rock and an open field.
The second is of walking down a gravel road ditch… the grass nearly as tall as I was on my right and the dust from the gravel hanging in the air on my left. I must have been lost since even to this day I can feel the panic… muted by time of course and I wonder why that three-year-old child was abandoned.
The third memory is also from that age. And this memory is a peaceful one. Me sitting in a sandbox watching black and white cows walk by on the other side of a wire fence. There really isn’t anything noteworthy about this memory but it’s as clear in my mind as if I am still there watching those contented bovines meander along the fence.
~Every time I thought I'd got it made - it seemed the taste was not so sweet~
I’m not the jealous type when it comes to other people’s abilities. I actually feel proud for them… whether I know them or not. Perhaps I learned that in first grade in Smyrna, Tennessee. First grade in that school was in a small building behind the main school building. I remember it had a pot-bellied stove and when it was time for Show and Tell, we’d stand in front of that stove to share what we had. I don’t recall ever getting up then - I was painfully shy and truly thought I had nothing to contribute to the class. But I do remember, and will until my dying day, the young boy that every day would get up in front of the class and tell stories… of what had happened to him the previous evening or weekend. That was my very first crush… and every so often I think of him… standing there in his size-too-large bib overalls with his hands in his pockets, hair needing cutting badly, painting images with words and taking me to a life I couldn’t even imagine. Today I realize he was dirt poor but also rich in family and love. It’s one of my wishes that this small boy grew up to become a storyteller of the first mark!
~So I turned myself to face me - but I've never caught a glimpse~
One of the significant problems of my life is that I’ve never had a goal… something that grabbed my soul and gave me a passion to do… or be more than what or who I am. I've simply existed. And looking back now, I mourn the time I’ve wasted. Yes, I raised my children to be good, kind, caring people - but one can’t live through their children or grandchildren. I’ve tried to live my life with honestly and truth but is that enough? Mid-life crisis? Perhaps… Maybe it’s laziness? Or a lack of ‘want-to’? I’m not sure. As I study the years that have been and think about the years that I have left, I know I must - MUST - find that elusive passion and embrace it wholly. Otherwise, my life is no more than a falling leaf and shouldn’t have been.
~I watch the ripples change their size - But never leave the stream - So the days float through my eyes - But still the days seem the same~
So, we come to the time when change must be embraced… but I can’t change just for change’s sake. It is essential to my spirit to find a passion… to learn to live that passion… to devote my days and nights to that passion until it is the sun of my existene. I don’t know if I have those sparks within my soul. But if it turns out that I have, then this life won’t be a total waste after all.
~Pretty soon you're gonna get a little older
Time may change me
But I can't trace time
I said that time may change me
But I can't change time
Ch-ch-ch-ch-Changes
(Turn and face the strange)
Ch-ch-Changes
Oh, look out you rock 'n rollers
Ch-ch-ch-ch-Changes
(Turn and face the strange)
Ch-ch-Changes~