Tomorrow, I'm going home, to my birthplace. It's been fifty years since I lived there.
I'll drive up the lane beside the pond where Nathan drowned. We'll greet the current owners of the farm and set up cameras—looking for the best place to shoot video.
And oh, by the way, tomorrow is my parent's wedding anniversary. They are both deceased, but maybe they'll be able to watch. I hope so.
(I'm interrupting the regularly scheduled blog post to bring you a special announcement. If you've been following the story of our family, you'll know that I mentioned plans to do a music video to the song "Pond Beside the Barn" this summer. As it turns out, we are going to do it this Saturday—weather permitting.)
It's been 10 years since we recorded and released the album with this song on it. For many years I refrained from doing it in my concerts because it was so potent and personal. When I did share it, I wasn't sure people were receiving it well. Too personal perhaps? Many times I wondered why I even recorded it. It's one thing for people to listen to the song whenever they want, but it feels like a very different thing to share it with audiences in a live setting. After all, I don't want to leave everyone feeling like they need Prozac—though we've often joked that I might make a better profit from selling that than music. 😉
But since the writing and release of my projects "Portraits of White" and "Brand New Me", the song has found a proper place in my concerts. Though the song hasn't changed, this singer has. My perspective is so different since I first wrote the song. It seems like I had to write two more albums to get to this point.
I am not going back to the farm in sadness. The seasoning of time has helped me process the grief. Perspective has given me a deep strength and peace. I realize now why I wrote so many songs about death, why I needed to do a Christmas album and Portraits of White show. The loss of a little loved one has made me dig deep. I'm ready to move forward, record the story/song on video and use it to encourage others who walk through similar journeys.
This past year, I've started putting the song back in my concerts. I've met people who come up to me afterward and say, "I lost someone too". They'll be able to tell me exactly where it happened. Funny thing about living—landscape IS important to us.
A few weeks ago, I returned to a venue to do a concert in the Pocono Mountains for the second time within a year and a gentleman came up to me and said, "You didn't do the song about your brother this time. I remember the sweet story." He brought his family with him and now they are interested in coming to the December show—and that's how the world works.
Life (or death) happens.
Seeds are planted.
Songs are written, recorded and shared.
People are touched.
Yes, tomorrow I'm going home.
This visit is very personal.
I'll drive up the lane beside the pond where Nathan drowned. We'll greet the current owners of the farm and set up cameras—looking for the best place to shoot video.
And oh, by the way, tomorrow is my parent's wedding anniversary. They are both deceased, but maybe they'll be able to watch. I hope so.
It's been 10 years since we recorded and released the album with this song on it. For many years I refrained from doing it in my concerts because it was so potent and personal. When I did share it, I wasn't sure people were receiving it well. Too personal perhaps? Many times I wondered why I even recorded it. It's one thing for people to listen to the song whenever they want, but it feels like a very different thing to share it with audiences in a live setting. After all, I don't want to leave everyone feeling like they need Prozac—though we've often joked that I might make a better profit from selling that than music. 😉
But since the writing and release of my projects "Portraits of White" and "Brand New Me", the song has found a proper place in my concerts. Though the song hasn't changed, this singer has. My perspective is so different since I first wrote the song. It seems like I had to write two more albums to get to this point.
I am not going back to the farm in sadness. The seasoning of time has helped me process the grief. Perspective has given me a deep strength and peace. I realize now why I wrote so many songs about death, why I needed to do a Christmas album and Portraits of White show. The loss of a little loved one has made me dig deep. I'm ready to move forward, record the story/song on video and use it to encourage others who walk through similar journeys.
This past year, I've started putting the song back in my concerts. I've met people who come up to me afterward and say, "I lost someone too". They'll be able to tell me exactly where it happened. Funny thing about living—landscape IS important to us.
A few weeks ago, I returned to a venue to do a concert in the Pocono Mountains for the second time within a year and a gentleman came up to me and said, "You didn't do the song about your brother this time. I remember the sweet story." He brought his family with him and now they are interested in coming to the December show—and that's how the world works.
Life (or death) happens.
Seeds are planted.
Songs are written, recorded and shared.
People are touched.
Yes, tomorrow I'm going home.
This visit is very personal.
