Based On A True Story (Hug Ya)

The three newest songs on my new amateur album, New Dog, Old Tricks, are related to my dear Mary, who crossed my path several times before getting my attention with a hug, as chronicled in “Enter the Hugger” almost a year ago now.

I introduced the very newest song, “Better Late Than Never,” two weeks ago, and sent you to the stream for the whole album last Saturday. Today I call your attention to the second-newest composition, which is half as long and not quite as serious as “Better Late Than Never.”

I titled it “Based On A True Story (Hug Ya),” because, well, it’s based on a true story, and if I had any sense I would just call it “Hug Ya.”

Warren Bluhm · Based On A True Story (Hug Ya)

Based On A True Story (Hug Ya)

I was minding my own business on a sunny, sunny day
When up came a beauty, and she planted in my way.
She gave me a sly smile, and she told me with a grin,
“I got something good to tell you, and I know where to begin.”

She took me by the hand, and she looked up to the sky,
And then she took a breath and she looked me in the eye,
And she said,

“Excuse me, would you mind if I give you a hug?
Everyone says I’m a hugger, and at the risk of sounding smug,
You look like you could use one, and I hope that I won’t bug ya
If I wrap my arms around you, ’cause I really want to hug ya.”

Well, the first thing that I knew, she had grabbed me by the heart,
And I had a funny feeling that we might never part.
The hugging turned to kissing, and you know, in point of fact,
It wasn’t long before I loved her to the moon and back,

And all because she stopped me on a sunny, sunny day
And looked me in the eye and said, “I got something to say,”
And then she said,

Chasing imponderables away

Usually it’s the old dog who wakes the rest of us up around 3 a.m. This time it was the old man and his bladder.

As often happens now that she’s officially an ancient dog, I peered carefully at Dejah to make sure she was breathing as I walked past. In the semi-darkness I couldn’t really tell until she moved her head slightly.

Business taken care of, I settled back into bed, and the thoughts that occurred when I considered Dejah’s inevitable future lingered with me. I started thinking about the imponderables — even those who believe those who believe in Jesus shall not perish but have eternal life wonder what becomes of us when our earthly vessels die, and whether our departed loved ones are still aware of us as we go about living our lives — and then I dwelt on the practical aspects of disposing of a departed dog’s remains, and bills coming due, and responsibilities for tomorrow — and I was just about to give up and start my day at 3:30 a.m. when Summer jumped on the bed.

In an unprecedented move, my younger dog stood over me and sniffed at my face, and then she curled up tight against the curve formed by my chest and my knees. It was the sweetest, most soothing and comforting moment of our lives together.

We lay there like that for quite some time, and just before I drifted off to sleep again, Summer rose and took her customary spot curled up at my feet, and we spent the rest of the night like that. It was if we needed each other at that moment to chase away the stormy thoughts.

Does a dog sense when her human companion is beset by the imponderables and needs reassurance? I can’t explain a dog any more than I can say exactly where our souls go when we die. All I know is that Summer was the conduit to a peace beyond understanding that got me through the night.

The joy of an unstructured day

Holy cow, I’m coming up next week on six months of being an old retired guy. It doesn’t seem that long, and at the same time it feels like life has always been this way.

I’m still learning not to dawdle my days away. It seems I needed the discipline of the daily schedule. On the other hand, it’s nice to feel free to dawdle now and then.

So these are “the sunset years” a k a “The declining years.” What a rude description. I’m not especially interested in heading out to pasture. Sure, this earthly vessel has seen better days, but I’m not done making my share of noise or music.

I do keep thinking I might benefit from scheduling stuff for particular times of the day for, say, practicing guitar or finally seriously writing some fiction, but I enjoy the freedom to stop and say, “That’s it! This carpet needs vacuuming,” or “Don’t I have a 78 rpm copy of ‘If I knew You Were Coming I’d’ve Baked a Cake’?” or indulging some other sudden impulse. It’s a second childhood that way — after decades of structure, I’m rediscovering the joy of an unstructured day. (Did I just name this post?)

Not much gets done in an especially efficient way, but it’s surprising how much gets done and what it is that gets done. It’s the old saying, “Life is what happens while you’re busy making other plans.”

Or is all this simply a rationalization for my adult-onset ADHD?

It’s a wonderful life with so much to see and experience, it’s hard to decide which way to go next, so I spend a lot of time turning this way and that.

And what am I going to do after I get this post ready for posting? I’ll let you know.