Distant Heart

My father served in the US Marines for almost 30 years.  I heard his stories many times.  But it wasn’t until my daughter Erin was videotaping him for the family in his mid-80′s, that I began to fully understood how much he and so many others of his generation gave.  I had known that he was in the Pacific in WWII for a long time, but only when he spoke for the camera, did I realize if was for 2 1/2 years.  With one 2 week furlough.  He used that furlough to meet my mother in San Francisco.  Then back to the Pacific, and the eventual surrender of Japan.  Mom wrote him everyday.  I had heard that story.  I thought perhaps it was an exaggeration.  But as he looked into the camera, I could almost see him opening those letters.  It was true.  Every day.  Even if only a sentence.  “I love you”.  ”I miss you”.  Sometimes she wrote pages.  Far out in the Pacific, the troops got mail late, very late, and in big batches.  Dad would open them, a dozen, two dozen depending.  And he would read the words sent from Mom’s Distant Heart to his.  Their distant love, which stood the test of time and war, inspired this song.

  Dad is in a nursing home now at age 93, mending a broken hip.  Mom passed away a few years ago.  And on his nightstand is a picture of them from the 40′s, he in his Marine uniform, she in that great 40′s style.  They were quite the handsome couple, and I can imagine them dancing to one of those great old swing bands.  So when I got home from visiting the Colonel today, I had to put this story and song up, to honor him and his classy lady.

ps- I should write a song specifically about those letters.  But this one is about my parents Distant Hearts from long ago.  And to all who serve now, and are distant from the ones they love.

pps- no matter how you feel about war, if you feel, you have a heart.  And hearts, hearts full of love, can heal even the wounds of war.  And perhaps some wondrous day, our hearts will find a way to make war no more.

Hear the song about distant love, here:  http://johnpaulmcneil.bandcamp.com/

Together

“Hi, are you the John Paul McNeil that taught at Sanville Elementary around 1970?”  That was the message on FB I got not too long ago from Betty , one of my former students, now a mother, and grandmother.  A few more of those “kids” and I got Together for a reunion, Betty bringing some of her musical family.  I wrote a song to go along with the video, and a story Betty told about bringing a flower in for a science project in that class from long ago.  Simpler times, with no fears about guns and tragedy.  I hope and pray we find kinder and more loving times again, Together.

Together

Betty brought a flower in
cause that’s what we were studyin’
but I could tell her little heart was turnin’.
So I made sure that Betty knew
and each one of them kids before we were through
that every flower would be respectfully undone for learnin’.

Chorus 1: Betty said she trusted me
all those kids were so darned sweet
I didn’t notice the changes in the weather.
Though storms kept comin’ up
the kids and I had a lovin’ cup
and everyday we’d drink it up
Together, Together

The girls and Betty were into growin’ up
the guys like Ricky and Wayne into frogs and stuff
but all of them loved it when Id bring in my old six string.
We’d sing those songs in harmony
It was an elementary symphony
And I can still feel the pleasure it would bring.

Chorus 2: But changes came and I was bound
-for a job down in the town
-something I thought somehow would be better.
But better is as better does
-and it aint always so because
-when you leave what you really love
-you’re not Together.

The years can like a freight train roll
-before you know it the tracks seem long and cold
-and that train can’t climb the hills like it used to.
But love is such a funny thing
-makes the journey lighter and the heart to sing
-and that old train can climb most anything if you choose to.

Chorus 3: Suddenly it seems so clear, with all of us gathered here
There’s nothing that could really be much better.
Flowers that we knew before, seem brighter as we sing once more
The song that we were lookin’ for, Together…..Together…. © jpmcneil

Hear the song, here: http://johnpaulmcneil.bandcamp.com/

See it: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qGOy5Q9fO-g

My Hallelujah

The day before Easter Sunday, I was cleaning the house, and found a small wooden cross I made when I was a kid, in Methodist Youth Fellowship.  I had a live music gathering that evening (called a “jam”), and we had a grand time.  Up to and even past midnight.  Easter Sunday dawned…..early.  I had set the cross in a conspicuous place, feeling like I might want to do something special with it.  After my first cup of coffee (maybe it was the second), I took the cross and walked outside.  I headed to my favorite church, the woods, God’s Garden.  The little cross felt like it would be at home with the spring flowers.  It was.  And to add to the special, I resurrected (good one!) a spiritual song, My Hallelujah, which was originally just me playing guitar and singing, and added some harmony parts.  The Song of the Week.  For the Master.  Who mastered giving, and forgiving.

Hear the song, here:

http://johnpaulmcneil.bandcamp.com/

Song of the Week – Old Newport Waltz

The robins are telling me it’s Spring.  I believe them.  Birds do not lie.

They asked me to post a song I wrote years ago, about spring in the Virginia mountains.

It was sweet.  Newport, a tiny old mountain town outside of Blacksburg, VA.  Me and some other young

hippies kinda took it over.  Nobody minded.  It was a good thing.

              Old Newport Waltz

Over the ridges, before all the bridges

the mountains heard only the sound

of wind in the forest, the time was before us

as peaceful as snow on the ground

And I cant help wondering, wondering how

we could get back to then, from now

Chorus:

Sing, sing, with the mountains in Springtime

Sing like it’s nobody’s fault

Sing, sing, with the deep rollin’ river

the Old, Old, Newport Waltz                      ©jpmcneil

there’s another verse….will see if anybody is interested….hear the song, here:

http://johnpaulmcneil.bandcamp.com/

Mer

What if you could sing a song in a foreign tongue, unknown to you? Impossible!  It thought so too, until it happened.  A few years ago, I “felt” a song coming in.  This usually happens when I sit with my guitar, and chords start flowing in from “nowhere” (meaning “everywhere”).  I had learned enough over the years (I am trainable to some degree), to open up the recording gear, just in case.  Well, the chords felt good and rich and interesting.  And then these foreign words came out.  And kept coming.  I turned on the vocal mic, and caught them.  I played them back, with the guitar part behind them.  Amazing.  It sounded like some ancient language, somehow familiar to me.  A little like Gaelic, from the little I had heard of it.  It did not matter on some level, it simply sounded real and complete, even though I could not understand it in that literal understanding part of my brain.  But music births from a different part of the brain, the part that accesses the heart as well, and I believe encompasses the whole brain.

I redid the acoustic guitar part, keeping the original vocal, and added an ethereal electric guitar, bass, and synth drums.  And another harmony vocal.  Somehow I knew what to sing with the original part.  Here it is.

Someone who knew a bit about ancient languages said it was somewhat like Gaelic.  I said, “Maybe Olde Gaelic?”, half joking.  They just smiled and said, “I don’t know, I wasn’t around then”.  This mystery of music is like la Mer, an ocean I immerse myself in, where time and body become like the blood of my Soul, flowing into an endless and ancient Sea.

The song is here, waiting, like la Mer:

http://johnpaulmcneil.bandcamp.com/track/mer-fo

Eve, Come Home

It is International Women’s Day, in this International Women’s Month.  So here is a poem dedicated to the Woman of us All.  And the song, “Come Home”, which inspired this poem (and the song is its own poem).  A lot of inspiration going on.  Confused?  Just read where you can read, and clic where you can clic, and all will be well.  A good thing.  This picture of Amber from the music video “Come Home” is kind of Eve like.  A good thing.

** A link to the music video is below.  That song is this week’s Original Song of the Week.  Music videos count.  Cause I said so.  But first, the new poem.

“Eve, Come Home”

I thought I knew Eve, long ago

looking up, mouth to her breast

Her eyes looked like Heaven

her skin felt like Earth

I thought I was Home

Yet I have learned,

and the woman with the eyes of Heaven

has learned

Our true Home waits, and calls

lost, and buried

under oozing asphalt, rolled and rolled

upon, over incessant miles and kilos

On and on, and over, and over

Over long ago, long before

my mouth found her daughter’s milk

Eve lost us, for we lost Her

And long the painful, prideful story

of that loss

History, His-story

You think History made us full, and rich?

We are empty as is my mouth

no milk, no Home

no Eve

not here, not now

only shadows, hints of Her

lovely glimpses

Lonely and lost, She is

aching, full of the milk of Heaven

trickling from Her, along with

eon long tears

For She cannot bear to be

without us

to feel our hungry mouths

sweetly pulling Life and Love

from Her

When we know Her eyes

as the Windows of Heaven

feel her skin as Heaven’s Touch

and dance to her pulse as The Heart of Heaven

We can at last take Eve’s holy hand

in ours, and

Come Home

© jpmcneil

*pic is video still of Amber Marlowe, from my music video “Come Home”, on YouTube, here:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kJ9mGXaBg-Y

Kindness, and Kids, and Blogs

 

   Lions, and Tigers, and Bears, Oh, My!  Not as scary as that.  Certainly not kindness, just the opposite in fact.  Kids can be kinda scary, but if you treat ‘em with plenty of, you guessed it, kindness, it usually turns out fine.  Now blogs…..well, I think they would hopefully respond like the kids usually do.  That’s what I’m countin’ on.  And already experienced.   A very uplifting and kind blogging experience here lately.

Blogsters can also be tricky, tryin’ to make you follow them.  Some will take all the followers they can get, but though they get you to visit them by following you, they really have no intention of continuing.  A real clue is to see if they respond to you thanking them for their “follow”.  Not a Follow Fisher.  But this aint about them, it’s about them that aint….Follow Fishers.  It’s about a real warm hearted honest human being who happened to chance upon my blog, and we now follow one another.  Like friends, like neighbors, though she is in Canada.  I know her as Jocelyn, and she writes about the lovely Pacific Northwest, and her home and young family, and recipes that she loves.  But we all get busy, and sometimes forget to check on one another, and she was just so sweet and complimentary and real in her comment on catching up with me on my post just prior.  Feb. 28 comment from “lytlejoc” on “Wait In The Darkness”.  Sure made my day….week even….maybe month.

Well, this post is dedicated to her, and her kindness.  I wanted to give her something, but what?  We both love our kids (no, I am not sending her my kid….she is too big now to ship anyway!)  A song.  A song from when my daughter was leaving home for college, with all her Southern Angel dreams.  And lots of clothes.

Oh, yeah, the song is a free download on Bandcamp, a new site I just put some of my tunes on.  A rather simple site, but kind of elegant and effective I think.  Please at least check it out and let me know.  Thanks!  This song continues the Original Song a Week for a Year thing I am doing.  Song on!

John Paul

Hear it is (hope it warms you, Joc)

ps- I have made some other true blog friends as well, like Kerry, Cyranette, Cookie, and Pigeonheart.  I appreciate each of them as well.  Just that Joc’s comment came at just the right time, in just the right way.

http://johnpaulmcneil.bandcamp.com/track/southern-angel

Wait In The Darkness

What??  A luminescent egg, a lightbulb in a shoulda-been-taken-down Christmas tree?  Close.

It’s the full moon, as it was high overhead on Sunday evening, photographed almost straight up through the pine trees.  I was basically playing with the new cam I gave myself for Christmas.  Tough shot, even for someone who knows what they’re doing (which isnt me).  But it got me to thinking (imagine that).  It was late at night, dark but for the full moon.  I am going through a tough time taking care of my aging father, a time of darkness in many ways.  So a walk at midnight through the moonlit pines.  As I stood with the camera aimed at the moon shining through the pine boughs, waiting in the darkness, I thought, “The full moon.  Sunlight reflected off a dead world.”  And yet, it was beautiful.  It made me think of a song I wrote and recorded years ago, and had mostly forgotten.  I just re-mixed it, and put it up here, for you to hear.  And download for free.  Light, life, hope, even as we wait in the darkness.

Chorus:  “Now it enfolds you, cradles and holds you

Deep is this place, as strong as the rays of the sun.

Heart of the moon song, Mother of Insight

Rest in the dark, a bed for the stars in the night.”          jpm

 

ps- Another thought came to me as I was out in the cold February woods.  My New Years Res.  To put up an original song of mine a week.  Ooops.  I’m a little behind.  But not too badly for a moderately ADD musician, waiting in the darkness.

 

The song waits here:

http://www.reverbnation.com/johnpaulmcneil

I Love You Ray

 It is Valentines Day (hope you didn’t forget).  Most of us send notes, flowers, sweets and such to friends, family, and lovers.  I do that, too.  And think about Ray.  Cause it’s her birthday.  She was born on Valentines Day in 1977.  She was shot by a drunk hunter at age 21 in 1998.  Ray was my favorite horse.  She still is.

Most of us have, or have had, a pet we’re very attached to.  Usually a dog or cat.  You know, easy to get close to and cuddle and pet and feed, cause they live in the house.  A horse does not.  Usually.  But I used to let Ray in the house when she was a foal (that’s a baby horse).  Not very often, but often enough, so that when she got older, and would at times get out of the pasture, she would try to come back in the house.  The old house my wife and I lived in at the time had an open front porch.  We would hear this loud clomping, look at each other and say, “Ray’s out again.”  We’d go to the door, and there would be Ray, nose up against the screen or storm door (depending on the season), waiting to come inside.  She still lives inside my heart.

She was the first horse I raised and trained from a foal.  I always say, “Who trained who”, cause she was so smart.  Ray was mostly Arabian, with a little Thoroughbred mixed in (no offense, but thank God just a little).  Arabs are notoriously smart, and Ray was the smartest one I ever knew.  She was friendly and funny, too.  She would get the big zipper on my winter jacket in her teeth, and run the thing up and down, up and down.  It was hilarious.  I would be in the barn with my toolbox fixing something, and turn around, and there would be Ray, with my hammer or clippers or whatever she had found in the toolbox in her mouth standing there looking at me.  She was my friend.  I could ride her like the wind.  And I still miss her.

I was looking for a picture of her to put in this post.  But through the many moves I have made, I couldn’ find them.  But I remembered she, and her first foal Rayna, were on the back of my first CD from 2000.  There they are, a few years before she was shot.  I had the consolation of having her daughter for about ten years.  Then in about 2007, Rayna got out of the pasture and onto the road and was hit by a car.  I had to put her down.  Guns and cars.  Quite a culture we got, aint it.  Kinda destructive.  And that’s about all I’m gonna say about it.  Except that I feel it is more about the fool who pulls the trigger, than the gun itself.  And the moron behind the wheel, more so than the car.  And the culture that created them both.  Put guns and cars in the hands of fools and morons, and you get foolish moronic destruction.  Of what we love.  Now I have to love the fools and morons enough, and forgive them enough, to begin to change the destruction.

I become more and more convinced that stepping back somewhat, slowing down a good deal, and looking a lot before we leap (especially technologically) would be wise.  As you will hear, the opening lines of the song are about my young wife and I trying many years ago to step back on that sweet old abandoned farm where we raised Ray, and our first child.

“Oh, we had a new life there.  Seems the green was everywhere,

from the front porch of that old house, down the creek to the river’s mouth.”

It is late, and there are too many other words, too many tears, and too much loss.  Yet love remains, and insists on renewing, even in the midst of death.  The image of Ray and her foal, and the song that sprang out of my love for them, lives on.

You can find, and hear it, here.  It is a free download.  I love you Ray.

http://www.reverbnation.com/johnpaulmcneil

ps- You will find another song there, “I Love You”, that I wrote for my daughter, Erin.  Appropriate for Valentines Day.  But today is Ray’s birthday.  More about Erin and her song later.

Southern Moon

I walked outside tonight

cold full moon in a clear cold sky

Thought about a warmer moon    a warmer night

Time tumbled back ten years …

when I wrote this song midst a bonfire (and beers)

Recorded it with “One String Over”

Joel righteous on mandolin

Then I layered Anam Cara (“Soul Friend”)

my Asheville music Crew, into the mix

Find your Crew

sail and sing your moonlit tune

warm your heart

in the Southern Moon

(YouTube link to music video)

http://youtu.be/CSvkuhzit-E