Gratitude to the young people who carry the songs forward so lovingly / The holy ground took care of everything / Love waits forever

It is a joy to me to listen to covers of songs from my youth, especially this one that R gave to me during his year of experiencing war in Vietnam.  What love has given to us, no one can take away.  

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About 20 years later I heard "The Loving Time."  

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This morning I looked for a cover of "The Loving Time" song by the young people.  I found one.

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It is good to revisit these songs this morning and feel grateful to have loved and been loved.  Not everyone has had that experience.   

And yet, in the lyrics of Bob Dylan you will hear, "Love waits forever, for one and for all."

Almost 50 years ago

Deven's sister found this photo in one of Deven's old photo albums and emailed it to me.  My R took this photo of me when we were on the island of Oahu during the week of the 4th of July 1970.  I flew to Oahu from San Francisco.  He flew to Oahu from the war in Vietnam.  It was a bittersweet week.  My overflowing happiness at being with him in that moment was innocent of what he had already been through in Vietnam and of what was to unfold for both of us (all of us) in the years to come.



From "The Hours"

And...and I remember  thinking to myself:



"So this is the beginning  of happiness..."



"This is where it starts!"





"And, of course,  there'll always be more."



Never occurred to me



it wasn't the beginning,



It was happiness.



It was the moment...

Someday Soon 1970 / Day Lilies / Someday Soon 2016

Yesterday I looked out on my porch and saw a brilliant golden daylily. Last fall, I dug up the bulbs because they had grown so crowded that there were very few blooms in June 2015.  I replanted only three of the bulbs, thinking I would have plenty of blooms this summer.  Although there are usually blooms in early June, they waited until August 3 this year.  There is no bloom today for me to photograph, but there will be more blooms this week.  Their appearance this year in the early days of August brings emotional healing to me.

This morning while looking for something else, I came across these photos that I took of myself in 1970, just after I had turned 21.  That was the year I waited for the man I loved to return from the war in Vietnam.  He had turned 21 on the day after I did.  The photos were taken with the Minolta camera that he bought while he was in Vietnam and gave to me during those months of waiting during which I attended peace marches in San Francisco.

This afternoon a friend who is dear to my heart and who went to live in Canada during the Vietnam War said that we would be taking a walk again someday soon.  He paused and then said, "Like the song."  I said, "It's always about music, isn't it?"  He laughed and said, "Yes."

We are 67 years young and old this year.  Today is his birthday.  Mine is in October.

2008 / 1991 / 1971 / 1970

Today my Zen calendar says:

"Koans will change your idea of who you are, and this will require courage . . . Everyone thinks they want happiness, but they might not. They might rather keep their stories about who they are and about what is impossible."

(John Tarrant)



In the last two months, I have been coming to terms again with what happened, beginning in 1969, when my first boyfriend was drafted into the U.S. Army, the year we were 19. It wasn't until 1987, when I saw "Platoon," that I began to understand what had happened to us and what is still happening to us and what happened to countless men and women throughout history. I began the process of grieving and healing. During the Gulf War, we both began to manifest symptoms of PTSD. Today I have a clearer picture of what is possible and what is impossible. I continue to have inexplicable hope.

Here is Oboe at 4 a.m.:

















When my mother died in 1994, I inherited all her books, paintings, art materials and some caned chairs that had belonged to her parents. I chose to rent a storage unit because I didn't have room for all that. After my father died on St. Patrick's Day in 2003, there were more paintings, slides and old photographs to store. This week I am attempting to empty the storage unit, sorting through what I am finally ready to let go of and holding onto what I can now find room for in my small living space. Last night, I came across this from May 6, 7 and 8 of 1991:






















and this photo, taken in 1971 with a self-timer, of somewhere in the coast hills off of Skyline Boulevard in San Mateo County after my boyfriend returned from Vietnam:

















and this photo, taken on Oahu, using a self-timer, during the week of the 4th of July, 1970, my boyfriend's R&R:

















and this one he took on his parents' porch in Half Moon Bay, California, on the day he left for Vietnam in the winter of 1970:






















I am keeping these photos and the Doonesbury strips, among other things. Letting go of some stories that aren't true. Being open to what is true.

WAKING UP / THANKSGIVING DAY 1976

"When you awake you will remember ev'rything

you will be hangin' on a string from your...

When you believe, you will relieve the only soul

that you were born with to grow old and never know."

(lyrics from "When You Awake," by Richard Manuel and Robbie Robertson, 1969)

(I always heard the words as "you will BELIEVE WITH ALL YOUR SOUL that you were both with to grow old and never know)

Every so often I watch my VHS copy of Martin Scorsese's film, "The Last Waltz." I had forgotten that "The Last Waltz" was filmed on Thanksgiving Day in 1976. Now it seems highly appropriate that I chose to watch that exuberant concert film during this Thanksgiving weekend more than 30 years later.

The Band:
Rick Danko
Levon Helm
Garth Hudson
Richard Manuel
Robbie Robertson

Master of Ceremonies:
Bill Graham

Poets:
Lawrence Ferlinghetti
Michael McClure

Musicians:
Paul Butterfield
Eric Clapton
Neil Diamond
Dr. John
Bob Dylan
Emmylou Harris
Ronnie Hawkins
Joni Mitchell
Van Morrison
The Staples Singers
Ringo Starr
Muddy Waters
Ron Wood
Neil Young

It just occurred to me that "The Last Waltz" took place just a year and a half after the end of the Vietnam War. I can remember, in a clear and visceral way, how profoundly relieved I was when the Vietnam War finally ended. Watching the film, I thought about that short period of time when the United States was not involved in a war.

I was reminded that before my boyfriend was drafted in March of 1969, when we were both 19 years old, he had bought tickets for us and we had driven to San Francisco to see The Band in their debut concert in San Francisco on February 28, 1969. That is one of my many joyful memories of the time we spent together before he was drafted into the Army.

Recent interview with Robbie Robertson

("Morning With Three Suns," gouache and watercolor painting from 1988 by Old Girl Of The North Country)