Saturday, July 26, 2008


The year was 1965 and I was twelve years old. I wanted to learn to play the guitar, so my parents got me a golden-bodied acoustic and signed me up for lessons at Tom Pickett’s Guitar Gallery on East Kirkwood Avenue.

In the Hoosier town of Bloomington it was not a happening scene yet in 1965. A leather vest here, some long-haired guys there, but not so much love and peace and psychedelia. But Kirkwood was right down the street from the Indiana University campus and in the next few years as I was folksinging more and more, barefooted beings called hippies began to frequent the avenue in fringe, brightly colored clothes, and beaded headbands, smelling of incense and patchouli oil. Many of them also had guitars, slung over their backs like apparel.

My long-haired (and very exotic, I thought) teacher started me out with D and A7, and at first I had to work hard just to simply strum and smoothly change back and forth between these two chords. I was heartened to learn that a person could play hundreds of songs just with two chords. The first song I learned was “Good News”:

Good news, chariot’s a’comin’
Good news, chariot’s a’comin’
Good news, chariot’s a’comin’
And I don't want it to leave a me behind.

I picked up other songs along the same lines like “Hush Little Baby.” Soon I had graduated to 3(!) chords, adding G. I learned how to read tablature, and then I learned the magic of minor chords with Dm and Am. With just these chords and another progression: G-Em-C-D, thousands of songs could be played. Eventually I learned bar chords, and then almost anything (theoretically) was possible.

I began to play and sing everywhere I got the chance – for my friends and family, in Dunn Meadow next to IU, in talent shows, even once on a local TV station at a very early hour one morning. My father loved to harmonize on some songs like “Tell Me Why” and “Kumbuya.” By then I had learned a lot of anti-war songs as the draft and the raging Vietnam War started to take more of my friends. “Strangest Dream” was one of these:

Last night I had the strangest dream
I'd ever dreamed before.
I dreamed that all the world had agreed
To put an end to war.

I also sang “Simple Song of Freedom.”

Come and sing a simple song of freedom.
Sing it like it’s never been sung before.
Let it fill the air, tell people everywhere
We the people here don’t want a war.

And of course, “We Shall Overcome.” Not to mention Dylan’s “The Times They Are a’ Changin.’” The guitar teacher mischievously taught me that one at a very young age, perhaps hoping to introduce a mild insurrection in my distinctly unrebellious young life – but my parents never seemed to object, perhaps because I was an incredibly well-behaved little thing until I diverged from their plan in my twenties and started living with Mark (shacking up, as my Dad called it). They were worried about our level of commitment to each other. Thirty-five years later Mark and I are still together, so there you have it.

I learned lots of folk songs, playing and singing for hours a day sitting on the edge of the bed in my room, probably driving my entire family crazy. Folk songs were a great form of expression for me and are to this day. I loved the lyrics and had a knack for memorizing them – learning whole sets of songs made famous by Joan Baez, Judy Collins, Joni Mitchell, Leonard Cohen, Bob Dylan. It was one of the most exciting and inspiring periods of learning and growth in my life and I’ll never forget it.

Sunday, July 13, 2008

Of Lady Mondegreen

I have learned a new word (where has it been all my life?): mondegreen. It comes from a 17th century ballad about how they have slain the Earl of Murray and Lady Mondegreen. Only the real words are “laid him on the green.”

The word “mondegreen” was coined by writer Sylvia Wright for misheard poetry or lyrics. In her original discussion of this in 1954 she defined the mondegreen as actually better than the original—but few samples I have seen meet this criterion. Some are better than the original, some are hilarious, and some are simply stupid.

Another example Sylvia Wright gave was “Surely good Mrs. Murphy will follow me all the days of my life,” which is really Psalm 23’s “Surely goodness and mercy will follow me all the days of my life.”

One of my favorites is “’Scuse me while I kiss this guy,” for Jimi Hendrix’s “’Scuse me while I kiss the sky.”

Then there is “A gay pair of guys put up a parking lot” for Joni Mitchell’s “They paved paradise and put up a parking lot.” As well as “We’d like to know a little bit about your far-off isles,” for Paul Simon’s “Mrs. Robinson.” The real words: “We’d like to know a little bit about you for our files.”

And “the ants are my friends, they are blowing in the wind” for Dylan’s “the answer my friend is blowing in the wind.”

Since I am a great fan of lyrics and have memorized many songs, mondegreens are particularly amusing. I know I’ve been amazed at what I thought I was hearing in a song and what the actual words were when I looked them up. Sometimes when you look lyrics up on the Internet you find a bad version which is actually a series of mondegreens, so beware as always of anything you discover there.

The word mondegreen, after 54 years, has finally made it into the Merriam-Webster Collegiate Dictionary, and is a welcome addition. Feel free to post your favorite ones in comments below.

Saturday, July 12, 2008

Wild Basin Hike

On the Monday after July 4th we all drove up to the southern corner of Rocky Mountain National Park to hike Wild Basin. The trail leads past a rushing mountain stream and Copeland and Ouzel Falls are quite spectacular. The day was a little overcast but it seemed to make the white froth of the waterfalls glow even brighter, and the Indian paintbrush too.

I remembered again how fine it is to have kids who have grown up and still like hanging out with us once in awhile and found a moment to be grateful. We had some good conversation hiking up the trail. There were a lot of people of all ilks hiking along, including several youth groups, who we found a couple of times sitting on logs lining the trail having their own heartfelt conversations.

We saw a chipmunk, and later on the way back down a deer crossed the trail a few feet in front of us. The doe was skittish, but willing to be photographed from a distance.

A fire rushed through parts of Wild Basin a few years ago, so there are areas still rejuvenating from the burn in a way I find quite fascinating - it reminds me of hope. The brilliant green of the ferns in these areas always draws my attention as well as the green tips of the pine needles; who says it isn’t green in Colorado (ex-Hoosiers sometimes say this, but they are wrong).