As a teenager in the ORANGE ROOM, I always fantasized that I could be a songwriter someday. I had actually written a couple little songs when I was about 13 but nothing special. Anyway, why should I think I could write songs? Writers were special, gifted people. Writers, painters. actors and poets were born with amazing talents. I was just a midwestern kid from Illinois. My own mother reminded me one afternoon when she said to me, " let's face it, you're no Elton John." That was crushing to me!!! You don't do that to your kids. Youth is your time to dream big and nurture those dreams.... but that comment took all the wind out of my sails. My parents enjoyed taking their friends to watch me play in Moose Clubs and American Legions around Peoria but even then, I couldn't help thinking that they saw me as a kind of dreamer or wanna be. As if to prove a point, while I'd be playing guitar for a group of people, they'd always ask me if I could finger pick like Chet Adkins. Of course I'd fail at my attempt and explain that not many could play like Chet....but neither could I.... guess I was a failure.
In grade school, I never felt that I was anything special. In fact, I believe that I suffered from an attention deficit of some sort. I probably would have been diagnoses as ADHD in today's world. I had trouble paying attention in class and found myself staring out the window most days. When the teacher noticed my day dreaming, she would close the blinds. However, unknown to her, I could still focus my attention like a laser through a tiny two inch gap between the shutters. In my day dreams, my mind would race and my imagination would be on fire. I think I've always had that gift but there was no way to apply it...yet.
I remember a quote that Brian Wilson said years ago, " I'm like Tinkerbell. If you believe in me, I come to life." I realize that I've always been like that. Finally in High School, my Creative Writing teacher realized some talent and encouraged me. He gave me confidence in some of my writing skills. Just the positive feedback was helping me realize that perhaps I had some talent after all. Even my Mother, was surprised at some of my home work.
The Popcorn Man
Aged 16
Can you remember back 2 years and 10?
the Sky was taller and beautiful then.
Yes, life was held in a teddy bears hand,
and we all saved our penny's for the Popcorn man.
Out of his wagon, he's leap with such style,
then he's gather us 'round and give us a smile.
Hot, fluffy, with butter.....such a delight
Then he'd give me and Tommy an extra bite.
After he filled each box at request,
He loosened his tie and unbuttoned his vest.
Before he would leave, he'd lean out the door,
Dinner's soon kids so don't eat no more!!!!
There were many stories and poems written in that class. Nothing great, but it was giving me a new found confidence.
A few years ago, I went though some old college note books that I I had still had. I was noticed that my attention span had not improved much even at ISU. I found a scribbled poem that I had written during a lecture class where I have should have been paying attention. I remember reading this poem to my Mom before she died.
Sometimes You Wonder
Aged 23
Sometimes you wonder if you made the right choice
Should I have turned left or right?
Should I have disguised my voice?
Should I have locked all the windows and bolted the the doors?
Kept a light on in the kitchen and rolled up the floors?
Should I go back to school, develop a trade? Keep feelings in jars...should money be saved?
Should I climb up a mountain or roll down a hill? Sometimes you wonder. I wonder still.
Sometimes you wonder, do wishes come true?
Is a wish still a wish if it's wished upon you?
Do the stars become dim when the night see the end?
Does the Sun chase the Moon?
Does darkness have friends? Sometimes you wonder. Where does it begin?
Will there be a time when horses have wings?
How precious is time?
Can children be Kings?
Can a man meet himself in a forrest of trees?
Which really comes first....The lighting or thunder?
The answers seem clear but Sometimes you wonder.
After reading this stream of consciousness poem to my Mom, we both agreed that I was very uncertain of what to do with my life back then. She loved the poem and said that I always could write well. That meant a lot me after all these years. In fact, after years of writing songs, I finally came to the conclusion that I am in fact A WRITER and I have a backlog of songs to prove it.
I never wrote professionally but I had learned the craft.
My daughter Dara was born on June 4th, 1990 and she eventually graduated College with an English degree. SHE ACTUALLY IS A WRITER. Far better than me. She has written a stage show and is working on a novel that will blow everyone away when it's finished. I'd like to think she got her talent from me.
The night after she was born, I walked to the car from the hospital and a song came to me. That's really what I have learned over the years. Songs come to you in the strangest places and you must be aware of the incoming gift. Like an antenna, you catch as much as you can and write it down or record it as soon as possible...before it's lost forever. Before I went to bed, I found the chords on my guitar and sang it into a 4 track recorder and then fleshed it out over the next few days. I was so proud of the song! We had been trying for a baby for sometime and it felt like it was never going to happen. The labor was long. We almost thought she was changing her mind about coming into our lives. She was a wanted baby for sure.
Over the years, I've played her the song many times. I send it her on birthdays. She seemed kind of embarrassed by it as a child but now that she's a mother, I think she likes it. She was my inspiration and one of the only songs that my Mother really liked. She thought it was my best. I don't know about that, but the inspiration was real.
Just another tale of magic from the ORANGE ROOM
Listen to Dara Bree Below:
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