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       A TRIBUTE TO ROD McKUEN
PART 2

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A note from Charles

A Thought for Today

Every time somebody dies a private library burns.

 

Today we share the thoughts of Johan, Sharon, Ann, Carole, John and Jay in the second part of our "Tribute to Rod McKuen".

                                - Ken, Johannesburg, December 28

Throughout the years, Rod has helped many a person through some difficult times. I have been very fortunate in my relationship and have not encountered the same difficulty as others. I have just celebrated my thirtieth wedding anniversary this year, and I cannot help but thank Rod for that.

As youngster I was very shy, but Rod has taught me not to be shy to express my feelings towards others, and to appreciate every moment I spend with the ones I love. When travelling in the car, or struggling through tedious jobs such as grading exam scripts or just doing the odd jobs around the house I have found that with Rod in the background, the difficult road up ahead becomes a pleasure.

Thanks a million, Rod.


Johan Grobbelaar

Twenty seven years ago was the first time Rod McKuen captured my interest. His song, "Seasons In the Sun", played in the background while I was visiting a friend for comfort. A sister who was only 17, recently had been killed from a fatal, unexplainable gunshot wound to her stomach. In not yet having vented my enormous inner sorrows, as soon as I heard Rod's song, I cried and cried, although in shedding my tears, it was as if a blanket of spiritual comfort had covered and comforted me.

As years went on, I fell in love with his books of poetry. Soul-soothing they are, like the Bible. Whenever and whatever I needed, I could find the answers in his words. I reached and read during happiness, through sorrowful times, before, during and after love, and through more deaths, and I learned that he's not only warm comfort, but also an example of goodness, kindness, caring, understanding, serenity, compassion, fairness, hope, faith and love. He, and his words and songs, have molded me to be a better person. Additionally, his influence on my work as a
poet has been greater than all the muses combined. He has been my life and my way of life...

There are many who believe, and I agree, that no one, not man, poet, singer or songwriter in the entire history of mankind, or in the future of mankind, will ever positively influence the world (including the literary world), with as much love, kindness, wisdom and comfort, as Mr. Rod McKuen. He's an impossible act to follow.

With Love,

Sharon McElroy

Hi Rod,

For 30 years you've been my constant companion as I've travelled through life. The journey wouldn't have been nearly as much fun without you.

Thank you for the comfort, encouragement and smiles your words and music have given me.


Love always,

Ann Berzinsky

Rod has been a steadfast, certain, unique part of my life for over 30 years and there never has been nor ever will be anyone who could take his place. He is a shining beacon of constancy and stability, a rock to cling to when life is turbulent and personal crises threaten to overwhelm. He soothes me, inspires me and never fails to uplift my spirits. He even makes me laugh. My personal and favourite inspiration is 'I'm Not Afraid', if one can be said to have a favourite at all - like choosing your favourite chocolate, almost impossible.

I have 'worshipped from afar' (too far) for many years and my ambition would be to meet Rod face to face, although I would probably be so overcome that I would present myself as a gibbering idiot. Anyway, this is a huge thank you to a special person who I cherish as a performer and love as a humanitarian and shining role model to all of us who have had the incredible luck to spend a large proportion of our lives in his company.

Sleep warm

Carole Wood

Back in the early 80's I started falling in love with a high school classmate. We enjoyed excitement and mystery in our relationship and were both decent poets at the time. So almost on a weekly basis, she would give me the title to one of Rod's poems and would have me find which book it was in and how the poem related to our relationship at the time. It was my first introduction to Rod's work, and so his poetry held a special magic for me.

We went our separate ways some years later, but she was my first love, and I constantly think of her and how she's doing. Rod's poems still bring back all the sweet memories of my days with her. Rod's poems open up the feelings of a first love for me.

John Karle

Good Morning Rod... Boswell, the Waterfall Man here.

YOU are a very special person in my life.

I have always loved listening to music. Some of my very first memories of music were songs like "Honeycomb" and "Ring of Fire". Many more came along after those.

But it was your songs that started the record collection I have today. I listened to the Trilogy and Listen to the Warm and had to have the music to play whenever I wanted. I first found you as a singer and song writer and to this day I think of you first in that way.

I have always been a reader. I read everything I can get my hands on. But until you came along I could never read and ENJOY poetry. Most of the other poets wrote in a structured context that I found hard to read and digest.


Your poetry 'touched' me. I, like others, felt you were writing the poems for me. I didn't have to analyze the words to determine what you were saying... you were inside my head and further inside my heart.

Your songs, your music, your books and your poetry are all still inside my head and even deeper inside my heart.

Thank you for being Rod McKuen... the poet of The People.

Waterfalls by God... words and music by Rod,


Jay Hagan

Back tomorrow with Part 3 of our "Tribute to Rod McKuen".

                       - Ken, Johannesburg, December 28

notable birthdays Cliff Arquette o Lew Ayres o Dorsey Burnette o Kelly Fitzpatrick o Malcolm Gets o Joyce Haber o Earl 'Fatha' Hines o Hildegard Knef o Stan Lee o Sam Levenson o Martin Milner o Johnny Otis o Otar Roszinski o Roger Sessions o Maggie Smith o Denzel Washington o Woodrow Wilson o Edgar Winter
Rod's random thoughts The wolf that stops to measure the distance goes hungry.

There may be cosmic loneliness, but solitude is selective.

We should have fewer friends than we have time – so that we can give each friend extra time.

A CAT NAMED SLOOPY

1.

For a while
the only earth that Sloopy knew
                     was in her sandbox.
Two rooms on Fifty-fifth Street
          were her domain.
Every night she’d sit in the window
among the avocado plants
waiting for me to come home
    ( my arms full of canned liver and love. )
We’d talk into the night then
                    contented
but missing something.
She the earth she never knew
me the hills I ran
              while growing bent.

Sloopy should have been a cowboy’s cat
with prairies to run
                     not linoleum
and real-live catnip mice
No one to depend on but herself.

I never told her
     but in my mind
I was a midnight cowboy even then.
Riding my imaginary horse
down Forty-second Street,
going off with strangers
to live an hour-long cowboy’s life,
          but always coming home to Sloopy,
     who loved me best.

2.

A dozen summers
we lived against the world.
An island on an island.
She’d comfort me with purring
I’d fatten her with smiles.
We grew rich on trust
needing not the beach or butterflies.

I had a friend named Ben
who painted buildings like Roualt men.
                              He went away.
My laughter tired Lillian
after a time
      she found a man who only smiled.
Only Sloopy stayed and stayed.

Winter.
Nineteen fifty-nine.
Old men walk their dogs.
Some are walked so often
that their feet leave
          little pink tracks
in the soft gray snow.

Women fur on fur
           elegant and easy
only slightly pure
hailing cabs to take them
     round the block and back.
Who is not a love seeker
when December comes ?
Even children pray to Santa Claus.
I had my own love safe at home
and yet I stayed out all one night
           the next day too.

3.

They must have thought me crazy
              screaming
                      Sloopy
                   Sloopy

as the snow came falling
down around me.

I was a madman
to have stayed away
           one minute more
than the appointed hour.
I’d like to think a golden cowboy
snatched her from the window sill,
                      and safely saddlebagged
      she rode to Arizona.
She’s stalking lizards
in the cactus now perhaps
              bitter but free.

I’m bitter too
and not a free man anymore.

                     Once was a time,
in New York’s jungle in a tree,
before I went into the world
in search of other kinds of love
nobody owned me but a cat named Sloopy.

                           Looking back
perhaps she’s been
the only human thing
that ever gave back love to me.

                                - from " Listen to the Warm", 1967

© 1967, 1986, 1999 by Stanyan Music Group & Rod McKuen. All Rights Reserved
Birthday research by Wade Alexander o Poetry from the collection of Jay Hagan
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