I had just left the Country Music Hall of Fame. A place I often
frequent especially on Saturday mornings. Most Saturday mornings they
have a songwriters session. They bring in a well known songwriter and
for about an hour there in the Ford theater they will sit with the
audience talking and display some of his work. It is great stuff for
those who love music and the art of songwriting.
We walked by each other and only after he got somewhat past me did it
dawn on me who it was. It was one of my favorite songwriters. John
Prine. It I had been more alert and noticed sooner I would have
acknowledged him and that a fan had recognized him. I missed out.
I really respect songwriters. Those folks who can blend together words
in a few short minutes and create an imagine in our minds. I
especially respect what I have come to call "novel writers." What I
mean is those who in such a short time have written by means of a song
a book. A novel. Guy Clark was one of the best at this.
Read the lyrics to this John Prine song and see if a story a book does
not unfold in your mind.
We had an apartment in the city/ Me and Loretta
liked living there
Well, it'd been years since the kids had grown/ A life
of their own left us along
John and Linda live in Omaha/ And Joe is
somewhere on the road
We lost Davy in the Korean war/ And I still don't know what
for, don't matter anymore
Ya' know that old trees grow stronger/ And old rivers
grow wilder ev'ry day
Old people just grow lonesome/ Waiting for someone to say,
"Hello in there, hello"
Me and Loretta, we don't talk much more/ She sits and
stares through the back door
And all the news just repeats itself/ Like some forgotten
dream that we've both seen
Someday I'll go and call us Rudy/ We worked
together in the factory
But what could I say if asks "What's new?"/"Nothing, what's with
you? Nothing much to do"
Ya' now that old tree just grow stronger/ And old
rivers grow wilder ev'ry day
Old people just grow lonesome/ Waiting for someone to
say, "Hello in there, hello"
October 11, 2016