Category: writing


20131103_132007 I hope I’m not the only writer with this problem, but I find it difficult to switch from writing prose to writing poetry or to songwriting. Not that I can’t, I just find it difficult at times. In younger days, when I was writing songs and playing music all the time, the ideas came continuously from everywhere, whether it be a verse a line or two, or a chorus. It’s a mindset. I looked at everything in hooks, lines, rhymes – or not – and musical themes

Writing prose is another mindset altogether. I think in terms of paragraphs, short stories, ideas that can be stretched into posts, articles, essays, or books. There is not the “instant” (in comparison) gratification as in a song that you have just written. The song will go through changes, but having the framework is the hardest part.

So, having written books, articles, and so on for the past twelve years, and having written few songs, getting back into the rhythm – as it were – of writing songs as well as other writing has been a little tough. One idea would be to write prose works on alternate days from songwriting. Or spend a half of each day on each. Which would be good ideas if I didn’t have a myriad of family obligations.

I watch re-runs on tv when I’m writing because it’s background garbage. If I listen to music while I’m writing prose, I quit writing and get into the music and begin to switch to the songwriting mindset. If I listen to music while I’m writing songs, I end up with pieces of songs that sound like everyone but me. And not necessarily in a good way.

How do you juggle writing duties – whatever that may entail?

Peace be with you.

Dan Roark and Sons 3 For the past couple of years, I have been getting music together in preparation for recording a new CD. I didn’t play much when the boys were growing up, what with Little League baseball, church activities, and disc golf tournaments. Now Conner and Cameron are 20 and 19, respectively, J.D. is a senior, and it’s time to get back to playing music. We all play in the praise band at church occasionally.

I started with my old standards and added the new songs I’ve written over the past few years. As I was practicing and getting ready to go into the studio, I kept thinking of other songs I’ve written that I hadn’t thought of in a while. But when I looked in my notebooks, I could not find some of the songs I was looking for. And some of the songs I found didn’t have the chords written down.

I remembered the songs in my head, of course – for the most part. And I have a large number of tapes. My musical partner, Joel Nichols, and I were fanatics about recording practices and shows (sadly, Joel died in 1999). Yet not all of the tapes are labeled as to what songs are on them. Unfortunately, there are no clues such as – “this is the recording of that song that you remember was particularly excellent.” So I get to spend a lot of time listening to tapes. Which means a lot of recordings of the same songs.

Which is my cross to bear. Here’s my point – keep track of everything. Back everything up and date it. Having everything on computer is useless if you don’t know where to find it. But you’re a couple of steps ahead of me. I still have boxes to go through and copyrights to renew.

Joel and I thought we could hit the big time at any moment. We would spend our lives playing the same songs, along with new ones we were writing. It never occurred to us we might not sing them long enough for them to settle in the backs of our minds with other old memories. Fortunately for me, I played most of my songs enough that, even if I didn’t play them again, I probably will never forget them. Once I started playing the newly found old songs, they usually came back to me fairly easily. Yet there were others that didn’t come back as quickly or easily.

So trust me, don’t rely completely on your memory. You’re already having to write songs, record, give interviews, make appearances, and plan tours (among other things). Don’t leave anything to chance. It can come back to haunt you.

Peace be with you.

Mom and Dad1I was talking to my mom on the phone the other day. We talked about how the aunts and cousins were getting along – the only husband left among Mom and her surviving siblings is Dad. Aunt Stella Joe passed away a week or so ago after falling, breaking her hip and shoulder. She was in hospice for several weeks.

We talked about the journeys my cousins, Scott, Sue, and David had to travel while she was in hospice. Especially with Scott’s wife having brain cancer. The waiting and hoping, yet not sure what to pray for. Our family went through the same type of situation with my Aunt Juanita on my father’s side. Cyndy and I also went through the same situation with her Aunt Gee.

Mom and I talked about her two remaining sisters, Edna and Clara. We talked about our immediate family, the situations our four children are dealing with, the recent rain, and other things. I would give my opinion and Mom would reply, “that’s what Dad said.” It occurred several times during the conversation.

Which surprised, and slightly amused me. When I was in my twenties, and thirties for that matter, it would have severely irritated me to be told I sounded like my dad. He and I are so much alike that the few differences were magnified. He and I did not always talk directly. A lot of the time it was through Mom.

Over the years though, I have learned to appreciate the ways we are alike and also the ways in which we are different. We are closer now than we ever were back then. Having your own children changes how you previously viewed your father and fatherhood. First Jennifer, then the three boys, Conner, Cameron and J.D. I began to find myself saying certain things to them and then thinking “holy crap, I sound like my dad!”

In high school, a few friends and I decided to make a list of all the things that we would do differently with our children than our parents did. We would put the list in a safety deposit box and open it after we all had children and see how we did. Then we decided we would save ourselves the grief of not only having done things like our parents, but of not doing the things we were going to do differently. Even though we disagreed with our parents – still do on some things – overall they were probably right and we knew it even then.

I was talking with Dad a short while back and he was telling me about my grandparents when he was young. And the last part of the last paragraph?

That’s what Dad said.

Peace be with you.

Dressed up, Hair down b I picked up my granddaughter, Kelley, from school last week and we stopped by McDonalds on the way home. I wanted some tea and since Kelley hadn’t had a chance to eat her snack, I thought I would get her a happy meal for a treat as well as a smoothie for Cyndy. We were getting back in the car when Kelley spotted a dead bird between the sidewalk and the street.

“I’m sad because I see a dead bird,” she said, and I turned around to see the bird as I opened the door.

“It is a dead bird isn’t it?”

“I’m sad when nature dies,” she said as she climbed into her car seat. “I already named that bird one time,” as I buckled her in.

I said “oh really,” as I shut the door, and walked around the car.

“I’m sad for Enchilada,” Kelley said as I got in the car and started the engine.

“Oh, yeah?”

“That’s what I named her.”

“Oh, okay.”

We pulled out of the parking lot and headed for our house. As we were nearing the train tracks that cross the road, the lights began to flash as the barriers came down. I have not counted train cars for quite some time – they do not run as often as they have in the past – but it was the first time I had waited on a train with Kelley, so it was fun – again – to count the cars. There were two engines in front, 133 cars, and three engines on the back. Kelley was counting with me until there were about eighty cars.

We hadn’t been at our house long before her dad came to pick her up. I was telling him about counting the train cars when Kelley piped in.

“I was helping him count until my mouth got tired,” she told her dad.

That is why I love being a grandfather. I enjoyed being a father, too. But as a father, I had to use those moments as teaching moments, and inject a sense of reality, to a childish degree. As a grandfather, I still have a responsibility, yet I also have the chance to indulge in the weirdness of a child’s mind – and my own.

As Hunter S. Thompson used to say – and I have a t-shirt – “when the going gets weird, the weird turn pro.” And five year old girls – or boys for that matter – are really good at weird.

Peace be with you.

Brewer and Shipley 2 Cyndy and I went to Ft. Worth last Friday to see Brewer and Shipley at McDavid Studios. It is in a building owned or managed by Bass Performance Hall and houses smaller venues in the next block. The Van Cliburn Recital Hall is also in that building. The room we were in had a capacity of 200 people with the setup for the show. The crowd numbered less than two hundred but it was a good audience for Michael Brewer and Tom Shipley.

I first saw Brewer and Shipley at the Lone Star Opry House in the early seventies. Cyndy and I had our first date at Lone Star Opry House when we went to see Rusty Weir not long before or after the Brewer and Shipley show. Cyndy and I sang One Toke Over the Line in the folk club in high school – I was one of the guitarists.

The next time I saw the duo was the day our youngest son was born in 1996. (We dated a couple of times after high school, but did not get married until 1992 after both of us were divorced.) Sally, a good friend of Cyndy and I, took me to see them at the original Poor David’s Pub when Cyndy had to remain in the hospital for a couple of days. They signed all of my albums, but I could not find my Brewer and Shipley songbook. They signed the songbook on Friday.

Seventeen years later, Cyndy got to see Brewer and Shipley. And they sounded just as good as the past two times. Their harmonies intertwined, as did their guitars, to create an orchestral acoustic sound. The duo began with Shake Off the Demon and followed it with Make My Bed from their Shanghai CD.

Then they played One Toke Over the Line after a few stories about how they wrote the song and times when they were “several tokes over the line.” They were playing clubs in the midwest when they went out back of the club for a – well – toke break. When they were walking back into the club, Tom Shipley turned to Michael Brewer and said, “Man, I’m one toke over the line.” They wrote the song that night as a joke for their friends. It only made the album because they needed another song. Brewer came back from a trip to Mexico and found that One Toke… had been made a single and the vice president said they were the worst influences on young people of the day. Lawrence Welk had a couple sing the “modern spiritual,” One Toke Over the Line. Jerry Garcia also covered the tune.

“Which makes us the only people on the planet,” Shipley said, “to have a song covered by both Lawrence Welk and Jerry Garcia.”

The hour and a half set included numerous stories and songs. Among others, All Along the Watchtower – “the only song we’ve played longer than our own songs” – Witchi Tai To, an Indian song from the 1800s, Streets of America, and the encore, a song by Tom Shipley, Treehouse Brown. Speaking for myself, it was a greatest hits set of my favorite Brewer and Shipley songs. Were there other songs I would have liked to have heard? Well, sure. But I trust that I will see them again – next year, not in another seventeen years.

Peace be with you.

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JD Pitching 1 I was in Fort Worth this past weekend with J.D. at TCU for a baseball camp. We were driving from one field to another and were driving down W. Berry from TCU. Coming down the hill, I spotted a man and a woman waving from a concrete platform that turned out to be the entrance to a church. They were not waving “come here” like parking attendants, but they were using a modified princess wave. Unfortunately, their signage was not sufficient for me to see the name quickly as I drove by. And time did not permit stopping to take a picture.

As I told J.D. later, if we hadn’t been on a schedule, I would have stopped and attended their service. But while I couldn’t stop, it was a bright spot in the morning. It was over 100 degrees for most of the weekend and J.D. had already played two games (albeit short games). In the picture, J.D. is the pitcher. It was a showcase camp before coaches and recruiters from numerous colleges and some major league teams. It was a high intensity weekend, which made the smiles and the waves all the more important.

When I saw them and realized it was a church, I said to J.D., “so simple, but effective. How cool is that?” I happen to be on the communications committee of our church. It was certainly a Jesus moment in which life is briefly in the background and God’s light shines like a beacon in the wilderness. One of those moments that reminds us that life may be tough at times, but something better awaits us.

Peace be with you.

Where was God when disaster struck?

God was with the baby who survived
because her window
was the only one in the house
that did not implode.

God was there to comfort
the woman who lost everything
she owned, and most
of her family.

God was with the family
who stuck together
during the tragedy
and survived – together.

God was with the family members
who were separated
before the disaster,
but found each other safe.

God was with the people
who – despite injury and loss –
helped others who could not
assist themselves.

God was there with the families
of the victims
helping them to deal with
the question of why?

God was there with the family
of those who may have caused
the disaster and who are
struggling to understand.

God was there with grace
to pour upon those affected
and help them to carry on
despite unexpected change.

God was there.

Chocolate Chips
Ritz Crackers
Girl Scout cookies
ice cream sundaes
pizza, pretzels,
caramel squares.

Things that we liked
when we were growing up
that we still like now,
but – somehow –
they just aren’t exactly
the same.

Questions Asked – Poem

Questions asked
may not be answered
when the purpose of the question
is misunderstood.

Questions asked
may not be answered
when the speaker speaks
without thinking.

Questions asked
may not be answered
when the question is not
really a question at all.

Questions asked
may not be answered.

Questions asked.

Athletes are told
that when they play
they should “stay within themselves.”

May I ask,
because I’d like to know
how do you “stay without yourself”?

When someone becomes known
after doing something for years,
they have been “under the radar.”

Now that they
are shown on the news
are they “over the radar”?

Just asking.