The Man in Black...
Hello all. Pardon the length and rambling nature of the following message - this is not required reading, just some babbling to help me deal with some unusually-hard-to-control emotional responses...
So, I have recently discovered that a few songs on Johnny Cash's album American Recordings IV: When The Man Comes Around will make me cry if I listen to them to carefully... especially if I am alone in my car and singing along (as I was on the way to work this morning, and this is not the first time it's happened).
Not sure why I want to post this, except that these are beautiful and powerful songs to me, and I want to share that.
The first song that gets me choked up is "First Time Ever I Saw Your Face". I'm not sure exactly why this one gets me so hard... I guess it's the story of a love so pure and true and deep that it is all-encompassing, and that is an amazing thought (even if not realistic or even practical).
First Time Ever I Saw Your Face
(lyrics by Ewan McColl)
The first time ever I saw your face
I thought the sun rose in your eyes
And the moon and stars were the gifts you gave
To the dark and the empty skies, my love.
The first time ever I kissed your mouth
I felt your heart beat close to mine
Like the trembling heart of a captive bird
That was there at my command.
And the first time ever I lay with you
I felt your heart so close to mine
And I knew our joy would fill the earth
And last till the end of time, my love.
The first time ever I saw your face.
The second song that gets me is "Danny Boy". The first time I remember hearing this song is also the first time I remember meeting my Great-Uncle Andy - I was maybe 8 or so, at some large family gathering, maybe a wedding, and my mother or father shuffled me towards a thin old man wearing dark glasses, sitting in a chair with an accordion on his lap. Whoever I was with greeted him, careful to explain who they were, and that they wanted him to meet his Grand-Nephew "Danny" (that's me).
"Oh!" he exclaimed, and I think I realized at the time that there was something "wrong" with him - even if I didn't immediately know that it's that he's blind. "I didn't see you there! This is Mary and Harold's oldest boy?" It was confirmed for him that he'd gotten it right. "Very good then, Danny Boy," he said, readying his accordion, "I have a song just for you." And he played and sang a few bars of "Danny Boy" for me.
So this song always immediately reminds me of him. Years later, I now know that he was born with full sight, but an accident at age 4 took one of his eyes... and slowly over the next few years, his other eye weakened, leaving him completely blind before adulthood. He took up music, one of the few people in my family who did so, and learned the accordion, violin, piano, and also sang. He had a polka band who played for most large family gatherings, and most of my memories are of him singing and playing accordion for weddings and the like.
It took me a long time to get used to his sense of humour, because his favourite jokes often poked fun at himself for being blind - like the "I didn't see you there" comment when I was 8. He's also very independent, living alone, walking wherever he needs to go, and always keeping a positive attitude, making music and telling jokes. I also remember him showing me, at some other gathering, how to pour a glass of water for myself in the dark without spilling (by putting a finger inside the rim of the glass so you can feel when it is nearly full)... a little thing, but something which I still use to this day, and I imagine one of many such small tricks he uses every day to maintain his own independence.
He's an old man now, probably at least 75 if not 80 or more - but still alive, independent, and making music, as my mother told me when I asked a few days ago (while talking about my parents' upcoming 40th wedding anniversary - where I hope, among other things, to talk to Uncle Andy again).
Anyways, (tearing up at work now while thinking about it) looking back I think of him as a role model in some ways. He got dealt some shitty cards early in life, and instead of ending up angry and bitter and dependent, he is happy and positive and independent. He encouraged me - actively and just by being himself - to take up music. And he reminds me not to take myself too seriously.
Anyways, besides those memories, this song is also a reminder that he - and all my loved ones, and even myself - are going to die one day, some of us maybe not too long from now; and that, despite the lessons I learned from/through him, I really barely know the guy other than a few short conversations at family events. I feel like I should learn this song on accordion as a testament to him - I know that it would bring joy to an old man's heart.
And finally - the song itself, especially including the second half, is also a story of enduring love, even beyond death. It's not even clear if it's amorous love or paternal love, but the first part is about letting go of a loved one so that they may take their own path, and assuring them that when it is time for them to return, you will still be there, and that you will still love them. The second half adds that even if, upon their return, you are dead and in your grave, that you will know that they have returned, that their presence and continued love will warm your heart and renew your love, and that you will still be waiting for them in some place beyond death, when they finally also pass from this world.
*fights back tears* Why do I do this to myself? Anyways, yes... despite my lack of belief in an afterlife, and the difficulties it presents in deciding how to live my life, and particularly when trying to comfort people about their lost loved ones... it's still a beautiful and compelling thought that I wish I could believe.
So, yeah, lots of reasons for tears in this song - from inspiring memories of childhood heroes, facing hardships I can't imagine; to the sacrifices made for me by my parents, and facing the mortality of my loved ones, and my own mortality; to the beautiful and comforting thought, however impossible to my logical and atheist mind, of an eternal love even beyond death - yeah, gets me right here *thumps chest*.
Danny Boy
lyrics by Frederic Weatherly
Oh, Danny boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling
From glen to glen, and down the mountainside.
The summer's gone, and all the flow'rs are dying.
'Tis you, 'tis you must go and I must bide.
But come ye back when summer's in the meadow
Or when the valley's hushed and white with snow.
And I'll be here, in sunshine or in shadow,
Oh, Danny boy, oh, Danny boy, I love you so.
And when ye come, and all the roses falling.
If I am dead, as dead I well may be,
You'll come and find the place where I am lying
And kneel and say an "Ave" there for me.
And I shall hear, tho' soft you tread above me,
And all my grave shall warmer, sweeter be,
For you will bend and tell me that you love me,
And I shall sleep in peace until you come to me.
Oh, Danny Boy, Oh, Danny Boy, I love you so.
And that's really all I have for now. If you're still reading, stay tuned for a shorter and happier post about snowboarding. :)
B.
So, I have recently discovered that a few songs on Johnny Cash's album American Recordings IV: When The Man Comes Around will make me cry if I listen to them to carefully... especially if I am alone in my car and singing along (as I was on the way to work this morning, and this is not the first time it's happened).
Not sure why I want to post this, except that these are beautiful and powerful songs to me, and I want to share that.
The first song that gets me choked up is "First Time Ever I Saw Your Face". I'm not sure exactly why this one gets me so hard... I guess it's the story of a love so pure and true and deep that it is all-encompassing, and that is an amazing thought (even if not realistic or even practical).
First Time Ever I Saw Your Face
(lyrics by Ewan McColl)
The first time ever I saw your face
I thought the sun rose in your eyes
And the moon and stars were the gifts you gave
To the dark and the empty skies, my love.
The first time ever I kissed your mouth
I felt your heart beat close to mine
Like the trembling heart of a captive bird
That was there at my command.
And the first time ever I lay with you
I felt your heart so close to mine
And I knew our joy would fill the earth
And last till the end of time, my love.
The first time ever I saw your face.
The second song that gets me is "Danny Boy". The first time I remember hearing this song is also the first time I remember meeting my Great-Uncle Andy - I was maybe 8 or so, at some large family gathering, maybe a wedding, and my mother or father shuffled me towards a thin old man wearing dark glasses, sitting in a chair with an accordion on his lap. Whoever I was with greeted him, careful to explain who they were, and that they wanted him to meet his Grand-Nephew "Danny" (that's me).
"Oh!" he exclaimed, and I think I realized at the time that there was something "wrong" with him - even if I didn't immediately know that it's that he's blind. "I didn't see you there! This is Mary and Harold's oldest boy?" It was confirmed for him that he'd gotten it right. "Very good then, Danny Boy," he said, readying his accordion, "I have a song just for you." And he played and sang a few bars of "Danny Boy" for me.
So this song always immediately reminds me of him. Years later, I now know that he was born with full sight, but an accident at age 4 took one of his eyes... and slowly over the next few years, his other eye weakened, leaving him completely blind before adulthood. He took up music, one of the few people in my family who did so, and learned the accordion, violin, piano, and also sang. He had a polka band who played for most large family gatherings, and most of my memories are of him singing and playing accordion for weddings and the like.
It took me a long time to get used to his sense of humour, because his favourite jokes often poked fun at himself for being blind - like the "I didn't see you there" comment when I was 8. He's also very independent, living alone, walking wherever he needs to go, and always keeping a positive attitude, making music and telling jokes. I also remember him showing me, at some other gathering, how to pour a glass of water for myself in the dark without spilling (by putting a finger inside the rim of the glass so you can feel when it is nearly full)... a little thing, but something which I still use to this day, and I imagine one of many such small tricks he uses every day to maintain his own independence.
He's an old man now, probably at least 75 if not 80 or more - but still alive, independent, and making music, as my mother told me when I asked a few days ago (while talking about my parents' upcoming 40th wedding anniversary - where I hope, among other things, to talk to Uncle Andy again).
Anyways, (tearing up at work now while thinking about it) looking back I think of him as a role model in some ways. He got dealt some shitty cards early in life, and instead of ending up angry and bitter and dependent, he is happy and positive and independent. He encouraged me - actively and just by being himself - to take up music. And he reminds me not to take myself too seriously.
Anyways, besides those memories, this song is also a reminder that he - and all my loved ones, and even myself - are going to die one day, some of us maybe not too long from now; and that, despite the lessons I learned from/through him, I really barely know the guy other than a few short conversations at family events. I feel like I should learn this song on accordion as a testament to him - I know that it would bring joy to an old man's heart.
And finally - the song itself, especially including the second half, is also a story of enduring love, even beyond death. It's not even clear if it's amorous love or paternal love, but the first part is about letting go of a loved one so that they may take their own path, and assuring them that when it is time for them to return, you will still be there, and that you will still love them. The second half adds that even if, upon their return, you are dead and in your grave, that you will know that they have returned, that their presence and continued love will warm your heart and renew your love, and that you will still be waiting for them in some place beyond death, when they finally also pass from this world.
*fights back tears* Why do I do this to myself? Anyways, yes... despite my lack of belief in an afterlife, and the difficulties it presents in deciding how to live my life, and particularly when trying to comfort people about their lost loved ones... it's still a beautiful and compelling thought that I wish I could believe.
So, yeah, lots of reasons for tears in this song - from inspiring memories of childhood heroes, facing hardships I can't imagine; to the sacrifices made for me by my parents, and facing the mortality of my loved ones, and my own mortality; to the beautiful and comforting thought, however impossible to my logical and atheist mind, of an eternal love even beyond death - yeah, gets me right here *thumps chest*.
Danny Boy
lyrics by Frederic Weatherly
Oh, Danny boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling
From glen to glen, and down the mountainside.
The summer's gone, and all the flow'rs are dying.
'Tis you, 'tis you must go and I must bide.
But come ye back when summer's in the meadow
Or when the valley's hushed and white with snow.
And I'll be here, in sunshine or in shadow,
Oh, Danny boy, oh, Danny boy, I love you so.
And when ye come, and all the roses falling.
If I am dead, as dead I well may be,
You'll come and find the place where I am lying
And kneel and say an "Ave" there for me.
And I shall hear, tho' soft you tread above me,
And all my grave shall warmer, sweeter be,
For you will bend and tell me that you love me,
And I shall sleep in peace until you come to me.
Oh, Danny Boy, Oh, Danny Boy, I love you so.
And that's really all I have for now. If you're still reading, stay tuned for a shorter and happier post about snowboarding. :)
B.