THIS ONE DOES IT FOR ME!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Thought for Today

Love, the veteran of all wars, wins more battles than the sharpest sword.

 

Hello Ken,

I've spent most of this week with McKuen and my tears, trying to find the perfect poem or song for what I'm feeling. I've read "And to Each Season" three times at least, but told myself that I needed to find something different, something unused here before. But right now, the one that "does it for me" is the song "And to Each Season".

My Mother died 7 years ago today. Every year I think it will be easier, but it never is. As I get older I see her face in my mirror more often. I hear her voice when I speak. My granddaughter smiles and laughs while looking at things I can't see and my daughter says "It's Grandma". Does the ache for our Mother's arms ever leave us? Does the need to tell her all the things left unsaid while she was here, and all the things that have happened since she left, go away?

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving in the U.S. I'll be with my daughter, Erin, and my fairy grandchild, Shae. Bill will be there too, and his "Mum" is coming from Edmonton, Alberta, Canada for a visit. It will also mark my 18th year as a vegetarian. As we give thanks for all the good in our lives, I will think of my Mother, and be thankful for all the things she taught me without trying.

Unconditional love is a magical thing, and it's because of her that I know what it is.

I'm including a picture of my Mom that was taken two months before she died. She hated having her picture made, but during a cross country trip with my Dad she let him snap away. She was a beautiful woman in more ways than one.

Love and fairydust,

tara

Thanks for sharing a very personal moment with us, tara. Moms are special in so many ways and should never be forgotten. Hope your family weekend is all you wish it to be.

A very happy Thanksgiving to all who celebrate it tomorrow. It's not a holiday we recognize here in South Africa but I wish it was because I love the idea of a special day set aside to say "thanks" and express gratitude for all the good things that happen to us. Also, it's one of the few days I can think of which allows everyone, regardless of race or religious affiliation, to participate.

If you have a favorite McKuen song, poem or story you'd like to share with us, drop me a line at kenb@mckuen.com and I'll do the rest.

 - Ken, Johannesburg, November 27

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Rod's random thoughts Even blind men fear the dark until they come to understand it.

Solitude can be so powerful that proximity to anything but your own breathing is an intrusion.

To articulate aloud a certain moment, ensures its memory.

AND TO EACH SEASON

And to each season
something is special
lilac, red rose or the white willow.

Young men of fortune
old men forgotten
green buds renewing
the brown leaves dead and gone.

Spring in the lilacs
pale white and lavender
fill up the room
of my gone mother.

And when the cat springs
on to the window ledge
his only greeting
is the silence and the rain.

And to each season
something is special
lilac, red rose or the white willow.

Young men of fortune
old men forgotten
green buds renewing
the brown leaves dead and gone.

Deep down in autumn
all of the brown leaves
fall on the garden
and cover up the lawn.

Let us remember
each year in turn then
when there was sun enough
to cover up the wrong.

And to each season
something is special
lilac, red rose or the white willow.

Young men of fortune
old men forgotten
green buds renewing
the brown leaves dead and gone.

Roses in summer
climb up the stone wall
playing with sunlight
and the morning shadows.

Petals as firm
as the young men’s striding
pants filled with love
hearts full of longing.

And to each season
something is special
lilac, red rose or the white willow.

Young men of fortune
old men forgotten
green buds renewing
the brown leaves dead and gone.

Welcome the winter
robed in its whiteness
bending down the willow
with its snow blankets.

And the wild berries
hidden in the wood now
from all the creatures
lost in the darkness.

And to each season
something is special
lilac, red rose or the white willow.

Young men of fortune
old men forgotten
green buds renewing
the brown leaves dead and gone.

Welcome the winter
robed in its whiteness
bending down the willow
with its snow blankets.

And all the wild berries
hidden in the wood now
from the creatures
lost in the darkness.

Old men forgotten
leave to me something
for I’ve no family now
but that of man.

Tell all the young men
passing in the lanes now
soon I’ll be coming down
to take my place with them.

And to each season
something is special
lilac, red rose or the white willow.

 - from the album "Rod McKuen Greatest Hits - Without a Worry in the World"

 
© 1970, 1986, 1992, 2002 by Stanyan Music Group & Rod McKuen. All Rights Reserved
Birthday research by Wade Alexander o Poetry from the collection of Jay Hagan o Coordinated by Melinda Smith o Sound & Fury Dr. Eric Yeager o Webmaster Ken Blackie
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