In the Joe Crookston's song "The Nazarene," the opening lines draw in the listener to this captivating and compelling combination portrait of family mental health:
"Dad coaches baseball
asd I am on the team
Mom thinks she's
Jesus Christ the Nazarene..."
* "The Nazarene" - Joe Crookston
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In "Lucy," these lines from the mother/cancer patient are so knowing and intimate:
My son’s just turning 15, he already tows the line
He’s so much like his father I know that he’ll be fine
Lucy is two years younger, but she smells like cigarettes
She still needs her mama, but she doesn’t know it yet
* "Lucy" - Chris Kokesh
Most of the time lately I am not myself
Sometimes I’m just so tired, sometimes I feel like hell
We made it through the winter and it’s starting to turn spring
But the cancer just keeps growing and killing everything
My son’s just turning 15, he already tows the line
He’s so much like his father I know that he’ll be fine
Lucy is two years younger, but she smells like cigarettes
She still needs her mama, but she doesn’t know it yet
Lucy, Lucy
There’ll be joy and there’ll be pain
Lucy, you have no idea what the world can throw your way
From the moment you could crawl you thought you’d seen it all
Little flame that burns so bright
Lucy, Lucy
Goodnight, sweetheart, goodnight
Lucy do you remember when your mama’s gentle hand
Woke you in the dark and flew you off to Disneyland
Now I never see you smiling as you creep around this house
But I know you keep a hotel soap in the shape of Mickey Mouse
Lucy, I remember when you found that baby bird
You were so mad at its mama because she never returned
But Lucy it’s a world of plans that fall apart
And you must be a brave girl and not let it break your heart
Lucy, Lucy
There’ll be joy and there’ll be pain
Lucy, you have no idea what the world can throw your way
From the moment you could crawl you thought you’d seen it all
You are a flame that burns so bright
Lucy, Lucy
Goodnight, sweetheart, goodnight
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In "Stained Glass," Danny Schmidt leads the listener through the process of a stained glass crucifixion being rebuilt and then revealed. So much more appears -- the actual mass of humanity -- in the re-tooled version with a gushing pronouncement:
...The chapel fell to silence, it was more than just surprise
As the monstrosity of color slid its tongue across their eyes
And they shivered from exposure like babies born again
Cause in every pane of glass was all the joy and pain of man . . .
There was every fearful smile, there was every joyful tear
There was each and every choice that leads from every there to here
There was every cosy stranger and every awkward friend
And there was every perfect night that’s left initials in the sand
There was every day that filled so full the weeks would float away
And there was all those days spent wondering what to do with all those days
There was every lie that ever saved the truth from being shamed
And every secret you could ever trust a friend to hide away
There was the fortune of discovering a new face you might adore
And the thrill of coming home to find her clothes upon the floor
And the prideful immortality of children in the home
That the storm can’t grind the mountain down, it can only shift the stones
And there was everything your mouth says that your lips don’t understand
And every shape inside your head you can’t carve with your hands
And every slice of glass revealed another slice of life
Emblazened imperfections in a perfect stream of light
It all flooded through the window like rapids made of fire
And then God rode through on sunshine and sat down cause he was tired
He was tired.
As the thunder and the hardwood settled back into its place
God removed his veil and there were scars across his face
And some folks prayed in reverence and some folks prayed in fear
As all the shades and chaos in the glass became a mirror.
* "Stained Glass" - Danny Schmidt
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In "That's How You Know," Lori McKenna writes about deep, mournful loss and recovery.
* "That's How You Know" - Lori McKenna
When you take the train to mid-town and have coffee by yourself
Pull the pictures from the drawer and put them back up on the shelf
When you hear the sound of church bells and it don’t make you want to cry
You’re not getting drunk just so you can hide
That’s how you know
That’s how you know
When you open up the curtains, start answering the phone
Stop driving around for hours ’cause you hate going home
You can talk about it, even say their name
When you start thinking you’ll survive even though you’ll never be the same
That’s how you know
That’s how you know
That’s how you know
That’s how you know
There’s no such thing as a long goodbye,
When you wish it would have lasted your whole life
You don’t need a cigarette or a pill to help you sleep
When you don’t end every night on the hard wood on your knees
When you wake up one morning surprised to see the world exists
And your eyes ain’t full of tears and your heart ain’t full of bitterness
That’s how you know
That’s how you know
That’s how you know
That’s how you know
When you’re thankful that you ever knew a love this strong
When you finally find the courage to write this song
That’s how you know
That’s how you know
That’s how you know you’re moving on.
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Although I love this line from Ferron's "Cactus,"-- seems to me the tools for being human are wicked crude -- but "Girl On The Road" has a greater impact on me.
These verses especially:
...I don't know what it's like for you but here's what it's like for me
I wanted to turn beautiful and serve Eternity
and never follow money or love withn greasy hands
or move the earth and waters just to make it fit my plans...
and
...But if music be a boulder, let me carry it a long while
Let it turn into a feather, let it brush against my smile
Let the life be somewhat settled with the life that song has made
Let there be nothing I am longing for in some plan I may have made...
"Girl On The Road" - Ferron
My momma was a waitress, my daddy a truckdriver. The
thing that kept their power from them slowed me down
awhile. I remember the morning that was the closing of
my youth, when I said goodbye to no one and in that way
faced my truth...and a walk along the river... and a
rain a'coming down...and a girl on a road.
There's a rhythm to a highway to match the rhythm of
your fears. My shopping bag possessions scattered with
my splattered tears. A string of nights in truck stops
and in darkness and in lies and a man they all called
Tigerboy...he just had to show me why. He just had to
give me something I'd forever understand...as a girl on
a road.
Rain upon the water makes footprints sunk in sand.
Anger upon angry hurt, take me by the hand. Take me by
the heartstrings and pull me deep inside and say I'm
one with your forgiveness and separate from my pride.
I don't know what it's like for you but here's what
it's like for me... I wanted to turn beautiful and
serve Eternity and never follow money or love with
greasy hands, or move the earth and waters just to make
it fit my plans. My eyes would be the harbor, my words
the perfect place for a girl on a road.
I met you in the Summer, I left you in the Fall. In
between we did some living...I like to think that's
all...but now I see words can be like weapons no matter
that they're small, and I used three tiny words on you
and then beat it down the hall. Does this road go on
forever? Does this terror know no end...for a girl on a
road? Would you like to sing it with me? Rain upon the
water makes footprints sunk in sand. Anger upon angry
hurt, take me by the hand. Take me by the heartstrings
and pull me deep inside and say I'm one with your
forgiveness and separate from my pride.
You cannot measure what it takes to mend a withered
heart. They'll tell you at the onset everybody does
their part. I did my best to follow the calling of my
soul. But, it's like that first guitar I played...at
the center is a hole, at the center is a...longing...
that I cannot understand as a girl on a road.
But if music be a boulder, let me carry it a long
while. Let it turn into a feather, let it brush against
my smile. Let the life be somewhat settled with the
life that song has made. Let there be nothing I am
longing for in some plan I may have made, in some story
quickly written during a long forgotten time as a girl
on a road. Sing it with me...Rain upon the...
thing that kept their power from them slowed me down
awhile. I remember the morning that was the closing of
my youth, when I said goodbye to no one and in that way
faced my truth...and a walk along the river... and a
rain a'coming down...and a girl on a road.
There's a rhythm to a highway to match the rhythm of
your fears. My shopping bag possessions scattered with
my splattered tears. A string of nights in truck stops
and in darkness and in lies and a man they all called
Tigerboy...he just had to show me why. He just had to
give me something I'd forever understand...as a girl on
a road.
Rain upon the water makes footprints sunk in sand.
Anger upon angry hurt, take me by the hand. Take me by
the heartstrings and pull me deep inside and say I'm
one with your forgiveness and separate from my pride.
I don't know what it's like for you but here's what
it's like for me... I wanted to turn beautiful and
serve Eternity and never follow money or love with
greasy hands, or move the earth and waters just to make
it fit my plans. My eyes would be the harbor, my words
the perfect place for a girl on a road.
I met you in the Summer, I left you in the Fall. In
between we did some living...I like to think that's
all...but now I see words can be like weapons no matter
that they're small, and I used three tiny words on you
and then beat it down the hall. Does this road go on
forever? Does this terror know no end...for a girl on a
road? Would you like to sing it with me? Rain upon the
water makes footprints sunk in sand. Anger upon angry
hurt, take me by the hand. Take me by the heartstrings
and pull me deep inside and say I'm one with your
forgiveness and separate from my pride.
You cannot measure what it takes to mend a withered
heart. They'll tell you at the onset everybody does
their part. I did my best to follow the calling of my
soul. But, it's like that first guitar I played...at
the center is a hole, at the center is a...longing...
that I cannot understand as a girl on a road.
But if music be a boulder, let me carry it a long
while. Let it turn into a feather, let it brush against
my smile. Let the life be somewhat settled with the
life that song has made. Let there be nothing I am
longing for in some plan I may have made, in some story
quickly written during a long forgotten time as a girl
on a road. Sing it with me...Rain upon the...
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