Imagine, if you will, a job where your daily task is to mock, ridicule and otherwise find fault with a group of humans you despise. Imagine the corrosion to the soul that must result.
I refer, of course, to the people whose full-time job is to produce press releases and “official statements” for politicians.
I think of these people several times a day as I clear my work e-mail. Almost without fail, between visits to the inbox, some political flak has issued a press release condemning the latest acts or pronouncements of a political opponent. The other pol’s actions or pronouncements are shocking to the core and an insult to all good Americans.
Most of the time, it’s just annoying and the subject line makes it obvious that it’s safe to delete without opening. Still, you have to feel for these lackeys. To spend the day conceiving and hurling bile must take its toll.
Oh, man. There I was driving down Highway 41 with tears streaming, listening to the old Seekers song on the radio and hearing the lyrics in my heart for the first time.
There is always someone For each of us, they say And you’ll be my someone Forever and a day I could search the whole world over Until my life is through But I know I’ll never find another you …
But if I should lose your love, dear I don’t know what I’d do For I know I’ll never find another you
When you’re going to visit the woman who has shared your life for the past 26 years in her hospital bed in a cancer ward miles from home, the last thing you need — or maybe the first thing — is lyrics like that. I was kind of embarrassed and relieved that people don’t generally look at other drivers and think, “Huh, I wonder why that white-haired bearded guy is blubbering.”
Red has been fighting to get out of that bed for about a month now with the help of the greatest team of doctors and nurses and support staff I have ever met at Froedtert Hospital in Milwaukee. Some days are heartbreaking, and some days are full of hope, as you might imagine.
One of my alter egos is w.p. bluhm, the imaginary singer-songwriter who has assembled 20 albums over the years but hasn’t been active much over the last two decades. A remarkable series of events in 2009 resulted in w.p.’s last spurt of creativity, when I wrote a dozen songs in two or three months, including a love song for our new puppy, “Don’t Cry, Willow.”
When I started putting together the album that became w.p.’s 20th, Ten Thousand Days, I realized I had new songs about a variety of topics — including a puppy love song — but I had not written a love song about my life’s partner.
Well, I thought about Red, and our pastor had just preached about some study that when it comes to finding a mate, men are looking for respect and women are looking to be “chosen.” I wasn’t sure if I agreed with that concept, but the song pretty much wrote itself:
I can’t your white knight to the rescue, my dear, But then again, you never needed one. I can’t be Prince Charming to sweep you away, But we both know just what we’ve begun. You see through my flaws, but you see with fresh eyes; You’re rock solid steady, yet you always surprise. I picked you of all the women in this world ‘Cuz you stand beside me, and you stand up to me. I picked you of all the women in this world; Most surprising of all, you picked me.
I couldn’t see being with someone like you — You’re common-sense earth tones, and I’m pie in the sky — But now I can’t imagine a life without you Or why I would even try. You see through my flaws, but you see with fresh eyes; You’re rock solid steady, yet you always surprise. I picked you of all the women in this world ‘Cuz you stand up for me, and you stand up to me. I picked you of all the women in this world; Most surprising of all, you picked me.
You came into my arms from out of nowhere; I don’t recall searching — I just found you there. You see through my flaws, but you see with fresh eyes; You’re rock solid steady, yet you always surprise. I picked you of all the women in this world ‘Cuz you stand beside me, and you stand up to me. I picked you of all the women in this world; Most surprising of all, most surprising of all, Oh, most amazing of all: You. picked. me!
This is more of a demo than the arrangement I hear in my head, but it’s the only version I have for now. As for the sentiment, it is more true than ever: I know I’ll never find another Red.
I sat down in my chair, and suddenly I was in a small town in Massachusetts, where a woman was being humiliated for the crime of adultery. It was evident that she was guilty, because her husband had been away for some years and yet here she was, carrying a newborn baby.
I leaned back and took a breath, and it was centuries in the future, when a man named Hari Seldon was revered for using mathematics to predict and shape the fate of civilizations.
I sighed and looked another way, and it was 1928 and boys who ran about town like lightning were visiting a Civil War veteran who, as it happens, was also an honest-to-gosh working time machine.
Of all the lessons my parents taught me with words or actions, I am most grateful for the times when they picked up books and explored other times and places and minds. By following their example, I have expanded my horizons in infinite directions.
