"My Head in the Cool Blue North"

Born: May 17, 1944, Bossier City, La.

Died: April 11. 2014, Charlottesville, Va.

When the news came of the death of Jesse Winchester, we were both shocked and saddened at our house. When we were in our salad days, we had the privilege of meeting him when he performed in Aspen, Co., in 1977. His quiet but gentlemanly manner made a big impression on me and he gained my husband's admiration, as well.

As I worked in a club where he played, I heard his music night after night. It never grew tedious in the slightest. The crowds swelled and by the end of that week, the likes of John Denver, Hunter S. Thompson and gasp, Willie Nelson, came in to hear Jesse.

This week, as tributes poured in from cities far and wide, colleagues and peers heaped praise on the body of work created by Jesse Winchester.

Along with his personal achievements, it is pleasing to note that his songs have been sung and recorded by a host of great people: Patti Page, Elvis Costello, Jimmy Buffet, Joan Baez, and Emmylou Harris to name a few.

He received a Lifetime Achievement Award from the America Society of Composers, Authors and Publishers in 2007. The Commercial Appeal in Memphis where his family was originally from eulogizes Jesse as, “One of music's sweetest voices and most incisive songwriters.”

From those of us from the “cool blue north,” Jesse, we are honored that you came to be with us for a time.

Nothing But a Breeze

Life is much too short for some folks
For other folks it just drags on
Some folks like the taste of smokey whiskey
Others figure tea is too strong
I'm the type of guy who likes it right down the middle
I don't like all this bouncing back and forth
Me, I want to live with my feet in Dixie
And my head in the cool blue North
And there we'll do just as we please
It ain't nothing but a breeze
In a small suburban garden
Not a single neighbor knows our name
I know the woman wishes we would move somewhere
Where the houses aren't all the same
Jesse, I wish you would take me
Where the grass is greener
I really couldn't say where it may be
Somewhere up on a mountain top
Or down by the deep blue sea
And there we'll do just as we please
It ain't nothing but a breeze
One day I'll be old gray grandpa
All the pretty girls will call me "sir,"
Now, where they're asking me how things are
Soon they'll ask me how things were
Well, I don't mind being an old gray grandpa
If you'll be my gray grandma
But I suggest we go have our milk and cookies
In the shade of the old paw-paw
And there we'll do just as we please
It ain't nothing but a breeze
©1977 Jesse Winchester
From the LP "Nothing But A Breeze"

Maria von Trapp and The Sound of Music

     I was 14 the summer of 1965 when my brother, Walt and I visited our cousins  Shauna, Kevin and Kim in Seattle. The five of us thought it a special occasion when our  Grandmother Cooney took  us  to a  matinee  one afternoon at a downtown theater to see the movie The Sound of Music . I became  totally immersed in the  story of a young  Postulant who leaves the Abbey to care for a widower's young children, teaches them to sing, falls in love with their father, and together they thwart the Nazi's and escape wartime Austria. To this day The Sound of Music is one of my all time favorite stories.   For years I wanted to emulate  Maria von Trapp, not that I could ever sing a tune, but admired her faith and character.  I already  knew a little about her as my grandmother had shared  what a good storyteller she was after attending  a tea  in her home state of Iowa where Maria von Trapp was the guest speaker. Grandma said Maria was full of joy, a  gifted writer,  and wonderful storyteller.

     It was in  the 1950's Rogers and Hammerstein brought the story of Maria and the von Trapp family   to Broadway with their hit musical The Sound of Music,  based on Maria Augusta Trapp's  memoir of the Trapp Family Singers,   published in 1949.  It was later  adapted for the movie screen ,  starring Julie Andrews as Maria, and became one of the most successful box office musicals of all time. Through the years  The Sound of Music  remains popular with audiences,  as indicated by its DVD sales.

     Who of us can't sing along with at least one of the songs from that great musical score:

Climb every mountain, ford every stream, follow every byway til you find your dream, or

Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens, bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens, brown paper packages tied up with strings , these are a few of my favorite things

     and  from the title song:

The hills are alive with the sound of music, with songs they have sung for a thousand years. My heart wants to sing every song it hears. My heart wants to beat like the wings of the  birds that rise from the lake to the trees. My heart wants  to sigh like a chime that flies from a church on a breeze, To laugh like a brook when it trips and falls over stones on its way , To sing through the night like a lark who is learning to pray. I go to the hills when my heart is lonely. i know I will hear what I've heard before. My heart will be blessed with the sound of music - And I'll sing once more.

     Oh ! to write lyrics like Hammerstein !  That would be grand.

                                                       

     I wonder though, how many know Maria von Trapp continued to write after the success of her first book. One of my favorites, titled Maria was a Christmas gift to me in 1973 with the inscription, May the pages of your life always unfold moments of truth, love, anger, despair, and reach the heights of Heaven itself. Love, Mother

    I include my mother's inscription because it dawns on me that not only storytelling and lyrics are important to us as writers, but the writing of inscriptions, too. Their meaning,  and what they tell about the person writing the inscription, and to whom they're writing. In 1973 I was a single young woman embarking on my career in the newspaper business, enjoying life but sometimes  confused about the direction I was taking. My  mother's word were to give me hope and encouragement.
   
    Other titles written by Maria von Trapp are Yesterday, Today, and Forever (copyright 1975) and When the King Was Carpenter (copyright 1976). A favorite of mine this time of the year is the TRAPP Family Book of Christmas Songs (copyright 1955).  Maria von Trapp writes a lengthy introduction where she highlights the importance of Christmas, explaining many of its longtime traditions i.e.  the Advent Wreath, The Creche, Mistletoe and Ivy, and the Christmas Tree. The Christmas Tree she writes, seems like the prophecy of Isaiah come true: The glory of Lebanon shall come unto thee, the fir tree, the pine tree,... to beautify the place of my sanctuary (Is 60:13).  It, too is a symbol of Christ as the Tree of Life.

     We know about Maria Augusta Trapp and the von Trapp Singers today  because Maria chose to write about her life and family, their music, and  adventures they shared.  While not all of us can be Maria von Trapp or experience the escapades she and her family entailed , and probably will never have our life portrayed on Broadway or the big screen by the likes of Mary Martin or Julie Andrews we do have our own unique story to tell , so never underestimate the power of your words,  and what they might mean to one who  reads them.
   

   *** Trailer for The Sound of Music  - Academy Award winner for Best Movie 1965

*** For more information about Maria von Trapp visit http://www.trappfamily.com/story/maria

Joan Didion, Longfellow & Eric Clapton - Writing Through Grief

      After  I  read Twelve Reasons to Write , Jennifer Rova's blog post for October 26, 2011 on Writing North Idaho,  I  was motivated  to write, especially after she shared about one man's compelling desire to write poetry after the death of his son, and the grief he bared.

     The day before I read Jennifer’s post, I  had picked up a copy of Joan Didion’s  book, The Year of Magical Thinking.   In her  memoir Didion  details  step by step the  pain and anguish  she endured after the sudden death of her husband, collaborator,  best friend, and  fellow author, John Gregory Dunne; It  earned her the National Book Award (2005).  Didion, one of America’s most renowned authors, explains it was grief that motivated her to write this particular story about her own deep, and unrelenting loss.

  Because of the sheer sadness and ordeal the author takes us through, the book is not always easy to read, but it  does relate first hand , the  commonality and process of grieving .

     After the death of his beloved wife, Fanny ,  Henry Wadsworth Longfellow  struggled with depression, and had to force himself to write again.  Though many years had passed, it was his continued  grief   that finally  moved  Longfellow to write,  The Cross of Snow which made  clear the lasting ache in his heart.

That, sun-defying, in its deep ravines

Displays a cross of snow upon its side.

Such is the cross I wear upon my breast

These eighteen years, through all the changing scenes

And seasons, changeless since the day she died.

     Famed guitarist and songwriter , Eric Clapton wrote the  poetic lyrics to the best selling song , Tears in Heaven after the death of his young son.

Would you know my name

If  I saw you in Heaven

Would it be the same

If I saw you in Heaven                               

Would you hold my hand                      

If I saw you in Heaven 

Would you help me stand

If I saw you in Heaven 

     The point I’m trying to make here is grief,  and the death of a loved one penetrates  the very depth of one’s soul,  and  can be  the primary reason for  a famous published author ,  poet, lyricist or someone unknown  to write his or her thoughts—to share their anguish, or memories of the departed  one held  close to the heart, ever so dear.

     For example, my mother  wrote the following on a scrap piece of paper several months after my brother died.   She’s not a professional writer, nor does she have a college education, but the words she wrote are from her heart, and shares precisely  what grief feels like. 

Saturday Afternoon

I just walked out to the mail box and back.  Sometimes I like getting mail, sometimes I don’t .

The very worse thing  arrived in my mail today; My son, my darling, my ever loved son, Walt’s death certificate. Nobody, nobody  should  ever have to look on, or read their sons death certificate.  Only 55 years  ago, I was reading his birth certificate.   I was 21 , he was  two days old. Life and love was new and wonderful.  My four year old daughter, Kathy was waiting at home to enfold him in her little arms.  Now, we will never hold him again.   You might think 55 years old is a long time  - it isn’t.  Remembering the little hands that stroked your face, the tiny feet you kissed  -  the sky blue eyes smiling up at you.  Oh, God !   I miss my son.

I sit at my kitchen table  looking out at the beautiful blue sky, but it doesn’t sparkle like Walt’s blue eyes did.

You were so loved,  Walt. You are so missed.

   Chronicling grief  through story and the written word -  whether memoir, poem, journal writing  or song is an often overlooked  type of writing, but one that  can bring acceptance and healing to both writer, and reader.

   For  helpful ideas about this subject visit  http://www.namw.org/news/writing-about-times-of-grief/

***  An informative and well written article about Joan Didion and her newest memoir  about the death of her daughter  (who died shortly after Didion's husband)  is featured in the Nov/Dec 2011  issue of Poet & Writers.