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buckman
Firefly
USA
2818 Posts |
 Posted - 04/10/2005 : 07:51:00
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| The boy had been following me since Chancellorsville.... When I ran from that bloody battle, I ran without thought... All I knew was what my instincts told me; go East and go North;go home... After a week of this we reached the Palisades, the sheer wall of cliffs at Englewood overlooking the Hudson River in New Jersey where I would follow the river North and home... With the river and the cliffs at my back, I turned to face him... If you're gonna be here anyways, I said, then you may as well join me .... I threw the tobacco pouch at him and raised the whiskey bottle to my lips... He was just a kid; he had come from the Stonewall Brigade, the troop of students that had followed the great man from the Virginia Military Institute and on into battle before most of them could shave... When Stonewall went down at Chancellorsville, the boy no longer had a reason; General Jackson Was his cause and his country and without him there seemed no reason to fight on... My reasons were simpler: I was scared, I was tired, and I could no longer stand the thought of killing even one more man, and so, without much thought, I ran, and I kept running until I could no longer hear the screams or smell the smoke of the cannons.... The boy asked me why I ran and I said, Because I couldn't fly........ He nodded like he understood.... It was good to have somebody to talk to again, even a Reb.... I passed him the whiskey.... |
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buckman
Firefly
USA
2818 Posts |
Posted - 04/10/2005 : 08:12:10
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That night as we set the fire to blazing, we heard a rustle off to the right... I saw his eyes first and Reb raised his gun at the sight of a black man in the woods with a gun... Charlie had escaped when his Master was killed by a Union raiding party; he had no family left, so he just wandered away, keeping out of sight, heading for a town he had heard of called Nyack where the Underground Railroad was doing the Work of the Righteous...
As we sat on either side of the fire, Johnny Reb took out his harmonica and started playing Dixieland.... Well, I may have run, but I was still a Union man thru and thru, so I started in on Glory, Glory Hallelujah.... Charlie musta felt left out cause he started in on a song I had never heard; it sounded like a slave song and was about how all my trials, Lord, would soon be over.... At one point, I stopped, and said, Listen, boys, if we're gonna get along, let's do this thing righteous; one at a time and maybe we can all learn sumthin..... So, the three of us, an unlikely group if there ever was one: an old preacher/deserter, a young boy/deserter and a runaway slave, sitting around a campfire at the top of a cliff over the Hudson River on a cloudless night, sang Dixie, then the Battle Hymn, then All My Trials......... When we were done and the woods fell quiet again, I looked at them and their faces were wet and shiny just like mine.... I passed the bottle to Charlie and nobody said anything for a long while......... |
Edited by - buckman on 04/10/2005 12:06:27 |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2154 Posts |
Posted - 04/10/2005 : 08:45:31
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For Hank. "...I ran because I couldn't fly..." Good morning to New York!
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Karen Runk
Firefly
USA
4925 Posts |
Posted - 04/10/2005 : 10:24:07
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Hank, that is the coolest story. Really puts a picture to the song. Thanks so much for sharing!
Karen Runk |
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buckman
Firefly
USA
2818 Posts |
Posted - 04/10/2005 : 12:04:36
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Thanks, KR... I was watching Ken Burn's Civil War on PBS and thought how cool it would be if we had a little tale about American Trilogy coming out of a chance meeting between three guys... and then, it just happened in my head and came out whole, like you see it, all at once... Thanks, Hank
http://www.mytown.ca/outsiders/beukema/
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Doug L
Firefly
Canada
5446 Posts |
Posted - 04/10/2005 : 12:14:24
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I figure a lot of stories follow us until we
turn around and share a smoke with them.
One of your finest, Buckman. |
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buckman
Firefly
USA
2818 Posts |
Posted - 04/10/2005 : 17:14:06
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| Thank you, Doug.... |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2154 Posts |
Posted - 04/10/2005 : 19:30:05
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| In 1996 and again in '98 Stu was treated for esophageal cancer. They tattooed him so they wouldn't overlap the radiation and compromise his spine. Starman, I called him. Terrified. Mick was the only one he would talk to. Stu lost his voice. Couldn't speak for months. Finally when he started gaining weight and his voice came back again he called Mick on May 19th and sang Happy Birthday to him. |
Edited by - Ailinn on 11/20/2019 16:39:13 |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2154 Posts |
Posted - 04/10/2005 : 19:40:40
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| As Mick's illness progressed he tried to stop writing. "I wasn't going to write anymore, Ro. Wanted... Just thought the flow would... Stop because... Because... I'm too damn tired... But the songs, Ro... The songs... They're there. The songs won't leave me alone." They'd wake him up. He'd call and sing new stuff he was working on. When he'd call at work I'd close my office door and take the phone out back. Reps would come by and see the phone cord running under the door and say, "I'll come back another day." I'd sit on the loading dock with a pen and a yellow pad and Mick would say, "Get your head clear, Ro. Is it clear now?" We'd talk about everything under and over the sun. He was constantly curious. "Here, talk about this," he'd say with no apparent transition. Then he'd pull the threads together and I'd see the woven whole. "Hahaha," he'd say. He was a genius. With language. With everything. A magician. Yet heartfelt and true. Such a rare combination. |
Edited by - Ailinn on 11/20/2019 16:42:04 |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2154 Posts |
Posted - 04/10/2005 : 19:53:54
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| Let me tell you a story about The Lost Hotel where you check in by the season. The reason I suppose is the view. And the one who is waiting for you. Patiently waiting. How people get broken and partially fixed. Just a little piece of the puzzle missing. Grey cardboard where there used to be blue. Upon arrival there's a complimentary First Aid Kit. Scotch Tape, Elmer's Glue, and Kindergarten glitter. So life at The Lost revolves under a constant bright sky. A shining ribbon woven into everything thought, spoken, or dreamed. Sure, you've seen the road that goes there. When you were on your way to somewhere else. A bookmarked memory. A fleeting thought caught in the corner of your eye. A faded sign beyond a curve that said ~Pavement Narrows and Ends~. The way the veiled trees gathered. A curtain that appeared to open and close. |
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Susan Newbury
Sitter
USA
76 Posts |
Posted - 04/11/2005 : 11:01:28
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When Mick reads the board every night, and I'm convinced that he does, I know that the first thread he reads are the posts by Ailinn.
Your writing so enriched his life, Ro.
Susie |
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buckman
Firefly
USA
2818 Posts |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2154 Posts |
Posted - 04/11/2005 : 19:54:58
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Dear Susie,
Mick so wanted the Board to continue. I too believe he reads it every night. Here comes his big closed-eye grin again. For old friends and new friends. The love and the words. His ever-growing family.
Our hearts to you in Oregon!
S & R |
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buckman
Firefly
USA
2818 Posts |
Posted - 04/13/2005 : 19:37:55
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Visiting Cloud Peak with Priest Tenge in Fall
Human existence in this world:
Duckweed cast adrift on the water.
Who can ever feel secure?
That is the reason
I took up a monk's staff, left my parents,
And bade farewell to my friends.
A single patched robe
And one bowl have sustained me all these years.
I'm fond of this little hut
And often spend time here-
We are two kindred spirits,
Never worrying about who is guest or host.
The wind blows through lofty pines,
Frost chills the few mums that remain.
Arm in arm we stand above the clouds;
Bound as one, roaming in the far beyond.
-Ryokan (1758-1831) |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2154 Posts |
Posted - 04/13/2005 : 20:02:33
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| When the fire engines arrive he ties the sheets together. Lowers them over the balcony rail where the canyons are silently warming. Heat funneling up through their honeycombed trails where she climbs into the abandoned future. His steady hand at her elbow when she takes the first step. |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2154 Posts |
Posted - 04/14/2005 : 19:34:01
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"Without Faith there is no fullness."
~Mickey Newbury~ |
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buckman
Firefly
USA
2818 Posts |
Posted - 04/14/2005 : 21:48:28
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The Cry of the Dreamer
I AM tired of planning and toiling
In the crowded hives of men,
Heart-weary of building and spoiling,
And spoiling and building again,
And I long for the dear old river,
Where I dreamed my youth away;
For a dreamer lives forever,
And a toiler dies in a day.
I am sick of the showy seeming,
Of life that is half a lie;
Of the faces lined with scheming
In the throng that hurries by;
From the sleepless thought's endeavor
I would go where the children play;
For a dreamer lives forever,
And a thinker dies in a day.
I can feel no pride, but pity,
For the burdens the rich endure;
There is nothing sweet in the city
But the patient lives of the poor.
Oh, the little hands too skillful,
And the child-mind choked with weeds!
The daughter's heart grown willful
And the father's heart that bleeds!
No! no! from the street's rude bustle,
From trophies of mart and stage,
I would fly to the wood's low rustle
And the meadows' kindly page.
Let me dream as of old by the river,
And be loved for my dreams alway;
For a dreamer lives forever,
And the toiler dies in a day.
John Boyle O'Reilly
http://www.mytown.ca/outsiders/beukema/
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2154 Posts |
Posted - 04/21/2005 : 19:57:06
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| Autographs required. From all the waiters who served them. Cast in their roles of 'The Waiter'. SAG cards defining their true identies. Stars. Halos hovering above their heads. A little to the left but still shining. The man and the woman were drunk on the sunset's just-right light and shadow. And the fragrance of scrolled-edged roses when he lifted his glass and touched it to hers. |
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buckman
Firefly
USA
2818 Posts |
Posted - 04/22/2005 : 21:25:07
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Martina took her time
Putting her face on…
With two words and a gesture
She walked out on me
Taking everything that was beautiful
In my life with her…
As I sit tired of the sound
Of my own voice ringing
In my ears
I remember the places we cheated…
The dark end of streets
The dirty motels, the cars…
Somehow I knew it would end like this…
When you break somebody's heart
To give yours to somebody else
The Universe will owe you one…
And it Will get you back
Someday someway…
I am only getting
What I deserve…
Martina took her time
Putting her face on…
Hank Beukema
http://www.mytown.ca/outsiders/beukema/
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2154 Posts |
Posted - 04/25/2005 : 20:22:05
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| I asked him to find the moon and he did. Sitting on the chimney Humpty-Dumpty-like. A three minute egg in it's cup. All pewter-pearl luminescence. A breathed-on vanity mirror. And the filigreed trees lean and dream against the silhouette sky. A fretwork of dark branches. This beautiful night full of late April dreaming of May. The ship slips into the harbor again. "...black cloth unfurled and a ruby at the top of the mast..." O, nicked finger... O, heart full of vows... |
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The Nightly Vigil