Silence

There is meditative silence and also the silence of the mystic. This morning there is deathly silence — that of John Prine, a wonderful songwriter and narrator of the human condition. I first heard him and bought his first album in 1972. I was lucky to see him four times in concert, the last time October 30 last year. We had planned to go to his music festival this Fall, and I had hopes that I might have him autograph that first album. Not to be. This morning there is silence because this victim of coronavirus is silenced.

Fortunately, his songs live on. He was gifted at capturing the funny, the sad, the absurd.

Some lyrics of his that I would like to share (check out the songs if you have not heard them) ——

There’s a hole in daddy’s arm where all the money goes
Jesus Christ died for nothin’, I suppose.

—- Sam Stone

If dreams were lightning, thunder were desire
This old house would have burnt down a long time ago.

—- Angel From Montgomery

Broken hearts and dirty windows
Make life difficult to see
That’s why last night and this mornin’
Always look the same to me

—- Souvenirs

Ya’ know that old trees just grow stronger
And old rivers grow wilder ev’ry day
Old people just grow lonesome
Waiting for someone to say, “Hello in there, hello”

—- Hello in There

And the water tastes funny
When you’re far from your home
But it’s only the thirsty
That hunger to roam

—- Rocky Mountain Time

She asked me to change the station
Said the song just drove her insane
But it weren’t just the music playing
It was me that she was trying to blame
…
A June bug flew from the warmth he once knew
And I wished for once I weren’t right
Why we used to laugh together
And we’d dance to any old song
Well, ya know, she still laughs with me
But she waits just a second too long.

—- Far From Me

“An old man sleeps with his conscience at night
Young kids sleep with their dreams.”

—- The Late John Garfield Blues (one of my favorites!)

And daddy won’t you take me back to Muhlenberg County
Down by the Green River where Paradise lay
Well, I’m sorry my son, but you’re too late in asking
Mister Peabody’s coal train has hauled it away

When I die let my ashes float down the Green River
Let my soul roll on up to the Rochester dam
I’ll be halfway to Heaven with Paradise waitin’
Just five miles away from wherever I am

—- Paradise

“We’ll whistle and go fishing in heaven
We’ll whistle and go fishing in heaven.”

—- Fish and Whistle

To feel especially good listen to “That’s the Way the World Goes ‘Round”, the ‘happy enchilada’ version! “It’s a half an inch of water, and you think you’re gonna drown” or “It’s a happy enchilada, and you think you’re gonna drown.”

Requiescat in pace, John.