|
When I was little, the house had a huge old attic. It was dark and mysterious, and could only be entered through a trap door, with stairs that folded down from the ceiling. Going up stairs, that were normally never there, through an almost invisible door in the ceiling, was cool enough by itself; but there were also creepy corners, and cobwebs, and rickety rafters, and an awesome attic fan (with a humongous motor and blades as big as an airplane propeller), that could shake the whole house with a wind like a hurricane. Who knew what secret treasures might be up there, just waiting to be explored and discovered!
I used to beg my parents,"PLEASE, let me go up in the attic to play." They said it was too dirty and dangerous up there, which of course made me want to go even more! When I look back on it now, it reminds me of The Narnia Chronicles, stories written by C.S. Lewis, in which these children are playing "hide and seek" in this strange old house; where one of them decides to hide in a massive old wardrobe, back behind all the clothes, and then discovers that it goes on - forever and ever - into a magic land called Narnia. Well, that's the way I felt about the old attic!
So, I suppose you can all guess what I found up there - at least one thing, anyway. Of course, my father's old VMI sword: with it's silver blade, and his name embossed in gold, rusting away, a little sad, but so beautiful. (I also found his old alto sax up there, but that was years later, and another story - maybe I'll get around to telling, someday) - anyway -
I fell in love with that old sword! It was light and slender, being a dress sword for show, and not for fighting. It had a metal scabbard that hooked to my belt, and it made a great (swoosh) sound as it was drawn from it's sheath. It was just perfect for a little kid to wave around like Zorro, or one of the Three Musketeers, or perhaps a young dashing southern gentleman in the cavalry.
As time went on, I forgot about the sword. I guess I outgrew it, along with the simple spirit of adventure it represented. It died a quiet unnoticed death, like so many childhood dreams.
Some years later, my parents decided to renovate the attic, and create a family room. I remember pretending to have a sore throat, so I could stay home from school to watch the carpenters work. The old attic was turning into a new magic land, just as I always hoped, only in a different way. They were building the stairway to a whole new world: a grown-up world I couldn't even begin to imagine yet. It was fascinating to watch them put in the new stairs that would always be there from then on, so solid, so dependable, so real. Like all grown-up stuff: they would always go exactly where you expected them to. They were there for good. - But where would they lead?
They did, in fact, lead to a kind of magic land, just as I had dreamed, but not at all how I had imagined. At the very top of the stairs was a door that opened into a space we called the Big Room. This soon became the center of activity in the house. The piano was moved from the old living room downstairs, up to the big room; and so began the slow decline and death of the, so called, living room. It soon became populated with furniture too good to play around or sit on, and was used only for company and special occasions.
The big room also became the music room. It was where we could have band practice, and make all the noise we wanted. This was the new magic and sense of freedom that would change my life forever! Johnny and I started learning how to play real music in the big room. It's true we had played instruments like the ukulele, piano, acoustic guitar, and marimba for years; but now, it was becoming electric guitar, drums, electric piano and organ. I suspect our parents built the big room in order to keep us from driving them crazy!
There was also another area opposite and behind the stairs called the Back Room. Up 'til that time, Johnny and I had slept in the same room together, for years. We were closer than anyone could imagine: almost as though we were two people living the same life. But now we had more space, so I started to take over the back room. It was where I kept all my toys: the model airplanes I built and flew with my father, erector sets, science and chemistry stuff, hi-fi, radio, electronics, and a small part of the family's gun collection.
Eventually, my mother's father, Edgar Holland, who's name I bear, decided to build a cabinet to hold most of the guns, and so my collection increased dramatically. Also, in the cabinet, was a space for two swords; my father's VMI, and a much older, heavier looking cavalry sword, who's story I never learned.
So, my old friend "the sword" was back! I hadn't seen it for years. It must have lain in some dark corner, forgotten and neglected all that time. I had moved on to other toys. I had my father's Colt 45 army automatic, and a German Luger from the war. And now, I had the old sword back, too! I took it out and tried to clean it up, but the silver had rusted entirely away in places, and it would never be the same. I felt guilty for not having taken better care of it; but at least, now, I had it back; and it was in a safe place, where I would never lose it again - I thought. But, of course, time went on; I grew up and moved away, my father died just recently, and my mother finally decided to sell the old house - THE END -
But Wait! Fate had another surprise in store. My band and I were playing B.B. Kings in New York City, and we had been invited by Hiram Bullock and Will Lee to catch their late set at "Chicago Blues". I was staying over to rehearse with them for Japan, and we were all excited to hear their band - which was incredible! There was a rumour going around that I might be sitting in, so I thought it would be fun to show up and play. We all met during their break, just before the final set; and someone mentioned there was a girl who had been looking for me all night. Of course, I showed no interest, until they said she had a sword. And then, I remembered. Kirk had told me something about someone finding my father's sword.
So, you can imagine my surprise when I met Suzanne; and she handed me "The Sword". It seemed so strange and incongruous, almost unreal to see it in such surroundings. She said, "Look, it even has your father's name right on the blade!" For all she knew, I was not familiar with it, or wouldn't remember it, or had never even seen it before. I didn't know what to say. So, at a loss for words, I just nodded, and said - "Yeap, that's the sword, alright." She urged me to accept it as a gift, and take it then and there; but I was going to Japan, and Monique was flying out to join me. Since I couldn't have it sent home, I told her to send it to Kirk and Misty.
So, just in case you think I might have forgotten about the sword, I'd like you to hear a song I wrote for my father, some years ago, while he was still very much alive and well. I was touring with Leon Russell at the time, and we got to talking about our early years. I was reflecting on my childhood - back to the time when as a young boy, I so idealized my father, as a soldier and a hero. When I think of him this way, I still visualize him as he was in that VMI graduation picture, a young cadet in full dress uniform, with the sword. It was so much more colorful, and less warlike than army khaki - and so it was that image that inspired me to write this song. Monique always loved it, and gave me the idea of putting it on the internet, in honor of my father, and to express our deep appreciation to Suzanne for her memorable gift. Monique wanted to share this with you all, so here it is.
Peace Is Marching On
Download the MP3!
There was a war my daddy fought
A soldier in the infantry
And way back then when I was young I thought
That's just what I would like to be
Oh, that big parade, and all that gold braid
It was really quite a show
I was old enough to remember then
But still too young to know
He said, boy, don't get the wrong idea
'Bout a soldier or a gun
Though many battles we have fought
The war is not yet won
Now, as banners fly, over towers high
We defend the peace below
I was old enough to understand
But still too young to know
He said, son, as you grow older
Many lessons you will learn
To make this world a better place
When it finally comes your turn
Now, with the missles aimed
And all the targets named
And nowhere else to go
I hope you're old enough to understand
And wise enough to know
We all want peace and freedom
So together we can grow
There's just one world for all of us
By now, I hope we know
I believe we know
If we can love instead of hate
You know it's not too late
If we can trust instead of fear
You know the time is here
I believe we know
For those who took a stand
For the freedom of the land
(Peace is marching on)
Every nation great and small
I want'a say it to you all
(Peace is marching on)
To the heros brave and true
I dedicate this song to you
(Peace is marching on)
To the soldiers brave and strong
Can you help us sing this song
(Peace is marching on)
I believe for everyone
That the time for peace has come
Oh-oh, yes it has
|
