JENNY'S SONG: THE ANNOTATED VERSION

JENNY (MY ONLY PICTURE)

Driving home from teaching my university class last Monday evening, these are the lines that jumped into my mind:

Jenny, Jenny your mom’s not home

Jenny, Jenny your mom has gone

Jenny, Jenny you must be strong

Jenny’s mom had just recently passed away.  I had never met Jenny’s mom but I had heard she was exquisitely beautiful, extremely musical, and one lovely, lovely lady.  

I do know Jenny.  She is elegant and eloquent, and too, exquisitely beautiful.  She loves good food and fine wine and is the quintessential high school English teacher.

When I got home I added the chords to these introductory lines:

Em      C                    Em              C        [harsh quick strums]

Jenny, Jenny your mom’s not home

Jenny, Jenny your mom has gone

Jenny, Jenny you must be strong

Em       Am                 Em   Am

Jenny, Jenny you’re all alone.

This is a rather harsh beginning I know, but death is serious and troubling, and I figured the minor chords and hard quick strums would set the mood.

Tuesday I wrote verse number one.  I knew this verse ought to begin with the melancholy Dm chord (usually accompanied with Am) and somehow the F and C seemed to fit the gentle and light strumming necessary to change the introductory mood.   

Dm               F                     C     [gentle and light strums]             

Remember songs in the summer

Remember stories in the winter

Em              Am     Em                 Am

Remember …       remember

Dm                       F             C                

Remember the leaves in autumn

Remember the flowers in springtime

Em               Am    Em               Am

Remember …      remember

Since I’d heard that her mother was very artistic and musical, I assumed she, like Jenny, would appreciate the Zen of the seasons, thinking Jenny would remember things about being with her mom different times of the year.  I knew I had to keep with just general descriptions since I really knew no specifics.

It is difficult for me to think of death without being philosophical.  This is my nature.  And it happens that Jenny’s love, Darren, and I are band mates (in Phantom Tide, of which I’ve written about in this blog on several past occasions).  Here is what I wrote Wednesday and Thursday:

Em        C                Em                      C

Life is a dream of phantoms and tides

Oft-times we laugh, oft-times we sigh

Life is a dream of those left behind

Life is a dream of swimming to sea

I must mention now that this is hardly an unabashed plug for our band.  It fits only because Phantom Tide performs only original songs, and was so-named because of Darren’s propensity to write of ghosts and the pain of past loves; whereas, I tend to write about sunny beaches and green seas.  Also, upon reflection (maybe even introspection) I truly believe that phantoms and tides really represent our entire existence (a rather existentialist simplicity I know).  Anyway, all we have in my theory then, is reduced to the yin and yang memories of past beings and events,  and forever the opportunity to look at the sea, as it represents life (in most literary circumstances) and the human nature to keep seeking adventure, so to speak and write.

I needed a change-up, a bridge to transform memories into Zen moments.  All Jenny had to do, I thought, would be to keep mindful of her natural encounters.  I ended the last line with a G chord, which I hoped would be a somewhat happy note (pun intended), simple and honest.

For further effect, I decided that the lyrics need be expressed from the voice of her mom.  I finished the first draft of the song Saturday morning.

Em                                            F

Jenny, Jenny, Jenny you’re not alone

Jenny, Jenny, Jenny your mom’s come home

Em                      Am                 Em                  Am

Listen to the whisp’ring … listen to the whisp’ring

Jenny’s mom is reminding her that she will always be there, has actually just passed on to an amaranthine existence. (Jenny just has to pay Zen-like attention to the natural susurrations!)

Dm            F            C                 

I’m ev’ry song you sing

I’m ev’ry breeze on your skin

Dm           F                 C                     G
I’m ev’ry blanket that warms you in winter

I’m ev’ry bloom, that fragrance in springtime

I finished Jenny's song this morning.  Her mom's maiden name was, Bloom, which easily fit into my seasonal theme.  (I love Phenomenology!)

To wrap, I inserted again, the existential nature of the song, and had Jenny’s mom reaffirm that she would ever be by Jenny’s side. 

 Em              F              Em                      F

Such is the world of phantoms and tides

Such is the world of phantoms and tides

[slow]

Jenny, Jenny I am forever

Em  C    Em

By your side

One of her mom’s last wishes she stated to Jenny:

"I don’t want you to associate me with a particular place – I want you to think of me, everywhere."

Jenny, I do hope I have created some lines that express this last wish.

 JOAN MINTER (NEE BLOOM)

JANUARY 5^TH, 1943 -- OCTOBER 18^TH, 2014

Joan, may you rest in peace.

Jenny, here is your song:

Em      C                    Em              C

Jenny, Jenny your mom’s not home

Jenny, Jenny your mom has gone

Jenny, Jenny you must be strong

Em       Am                 Em   Am

Jenny, Jenny you’re all alone.

Dm               F                     C                

Remember songs in the summer

Remember stories in the winter

Em              Am     Em                 Am

Remember …       remember

Dm                       F             C                

Remember the leaves in autumn

Remember the flowers in springtime

Em               Am    Em               Am

Remember …      remember

Em        C                Em                      C

Life is a dream of phantoms and tides

Oft-times we laugh, oft-times we sigh

Life is a dream of those left behind

Life is a dream of swimming to sea

[BRIDGE]

Em                                            F

Jenny, Jenny, Jenny you’re not alone

Jenny, Jenny, Jenny your mom’s come home

Em                      Am                 Em                  Am

Listen to the whisp’ring … listen to the whisp’ring 

Dm            F              C                 

I’m ev’ry song you sing

I’m ev’ry breeze on your skin

Dm           F                   C                     G
I’m ev’ry blanket that warms you in winter

I’m ev’ry bloom, that fragrance in springtime

Em              F              Em                      F

Such is the world of phantoms and tides

Such is the world of phantoms and tides

[slow]

Jenny, Jenny I am forever

Em  C    Em

By your side

AUTUMN EXPRESSIONS: IN PITH AND PICTURE

I AM AUTUMN.

Color me bisque and verdigris, vermilion and puce, titian and jasper.  Watching the brown and yellow and orange fall of leaves from the trees, watching them spinning and swirling in the breeze, listening to them crepitate beneath my feet, reminds me that I, too, am Autumn.   

Accordingly, this metaphor is not so abstruse considering the baseball stats clearly show that women in America live an average of 82 years, and men an average of 78 years.  This simple seasonal metaphor has me in the autumn of my life.

Hmmm …

I really do not mind being in the autumn of my life, save for the fact that I’ve limited years yet to linger on this planet.  Fifteen years to be precise.  Yikes.

The entire yesterday I hummed about thinking of a blog topic, to begin, of course, with a snappy title.  And when I woke up this morning … eureka!  I knew I would be writing about autumn expressions.

Atop this blog entry is a picture expressing one of my favorite places in Saskatchewan, WASCANA PARK.  However, any expressions I have to offer anyone would not be in pictures!  I am a dreadful photographer. 

Factoid:  Every picture I take now is with my IPhone.  It’s just that simple.

Factoid:  My writing is better than my picture taking.

Here are some pithy expressions that I have, personally, coined over the years.  These are my AUTUMN MUSINGS for today:

• A team is only as strong as the season is long.

I used to coach lots of soccer, so much that I am a certified Level Three (theoretical, technical, and practical credentials) soccer coach.  AEK, Athlitiki Enosis Konstantinoupoleos, named after a Greek association football club based in Athens, was the last team in the men’s premiere league that I coached.

But I did not start there.  My coaching started with a boys’ under-eight city league team, the Devil Hawks, then an under-twelve team, the CLASSICS (our sponsor was Coca-Cola), then RTO CRUNCH, and RTO X (both sponsored by RENT-TO-OWN, at the time under the management of my very, very close friend, Gary).  Our teams always had really good runs (pun intended).  Our teams made it to the provincial finals every year, winning at best, the Silver Medal for second place.  Alas, we never did win the Gold.  But I am shaggy-dogging it.

Over those soccer years I came to understand that first, parents only care about their children’s playing time.  Of course, the more one plays the better one gets, especially on elite city soccer teams such as the ones I was coaching.  However, once a player has developee the elite skill sets, that player’s parents, in their selfish nature, are in search of a better soccer team.  For the record, most parents can be appeased with 50-50 seasons.  Win at least half your games and you’ll keep most of your players.  However, there are always parents who believe that 50-50 seasons are not good enough for their highly-skilled child, and therefore they are forever seeking for this child, a spot on the roster of teams with better records.  Since this was generally the case, each season began with the coach’s solicitation of player gaps to fill.  

• It’s always easier not to (fill in the blank).

When I was researching and writing my Master’s Thesis, I was assigned to a Young Offender facility for boys 15 to 21 years of age.  The program that I designed and delivered for those boys was a simple one:  You must run three miles every day before I teach you either English or Art.  These students at the time were not in school – they were in jail.  Under the Canadian laws with regard to Young Offenders, our court system insisted that all disenfranchised youth assigned to jails had to be offered school credits, but only within their captive environments.  They were not allowed to mingle with those masses not in jail.

I soon realized that, indeed, these some of these young offenders wanted to learn, and some really just to exit the confinement of their rooms, and were willing to run only to a point.  These types would come up with the silliest of excuses not to run, most of which I referred to in my thesis as the sore-toe syndrome.

After my teaching in the prison system, I’ve since had the notion that it’s always easier not to … not to attend a certain function, not to confront a colleague, not to go for a workout, not to write a thank-you note, not to do a particular chore …  for example, for example, for example. 

• Before the game it’s only a game; after the game it’s only a game; during the game it’s life and death.

Ha!  This one I applied, yes to those players in my charge on the soccer pitch, and also to any sport in which I’ve been a player -- the first coming to mind being hockey!  I began playing ice hockey at eight years of age.  As an adolescent I always brag that I played in the NHL, and then later with the Swift Current Indians. As a middle-aged adult I played several years for the Icemen, and eventually hung up my hockey skates in my mid-fifties.  Now I play floor hockey.

Any game I remember playing, I always played to win.  Not so strangely, it really doesn’t matter to me if I’m on the winning team or the losing team.  It only matters that I always play to win.

(And by the way, the NHL to which I referred stands not for the NATIONAL HOCKEY LEAGUE, but for the NOTEKEU HOCKEY LEAGUE, in which I played for the VANGUARD EAGLES.  GO EAGLES!)

• The pencil never lies.

When I am without with my twelve-string guitar and harmonica, I busk with my sketchbook and pencil.  Before I put my pencil to paper in preparation for any portraiture, I always tell the consumer that the pencil never lies.  This is my standard joke.

• I fooled them another day.

This is what I typically say to my colleagues at the end of each working day, of which there are 200 each year.  Them, of course, refers to my employer.

• I laughed so hard I forgot to feed the cat.

I love this line and I use it often.  I must confess, thought, that I stole it from somewhere. I don’t know where.

And these next ones, I wish were mine, but they’re not:

• If you can’t laugh at your clients, what fun are they.

I employ this phrase sparingly (for obvious reasons) and only in the presence of those close to me.  I heard on an episode of the television sitcom, Frazier. 

• The notes are for those who don’t know the tune.

Since I do not read music, this line best describes how I tackle the singing of any song.  My band mate, Ray, coined this line years ago, when we were both members of the band, SHARIE AND THE SHADES.

• Never sneak into a song.

This was another of Ray’s gems, urging all singers to start strong on every song.

• It only takes one punch.

This one belongs to my present PHANTOM TIDE band mate, Darren.  I’ve taken Judo, Karate, and Muay Thai, and NEVER has the skinny of martial arts in my experiences, been better expressed!

Autumn leaves must fall, and so to close my blog today, here are some pictures (from my IPhone) taken during my morning run around Wascana Lake.

Autumn, to me now, is rather Aesopian in nature, for I am now Autumn. 

• Where you are is where it’s at (another stolen phrase) …

AUTUMN IS ... WHERE I AM AT! 

Today the temperature is 15 degrees C (59 degrees F). 
Within the hour I shall be guitar busking at VALUE VILLAGE!