This Sunday - after worship has closed - our band (and maybe some of our local musical friends) will sing this in honor of Levon. We use it to close our Thanksgiving Eve gigs each year and it has become a deep favorite.
Every year this song takes on a new meaning: different folk take a verse and interpret it their own way. Some go soulful, some make it playful and my man, Brian, makes it both with just a touch of lament. (He OWNS the "crazy Chester" verse, yes?)
So, we'll sing it as part of Levon's legacy in this musical ministry. We'll sing it to say good bye with respect. And we'll sing it so that some of the young people in the congregation might learn it and keep it alive. Like "the Boss" in the Seeger Sessions gigs made clear, each generation has a sacred obligation to keep the songs of freedom and hope alive. And this doesn't happen in books - it happens in community - where you learn by hearing and seeing and doing.
We'll sing also because sometimes a few words and a song are all that's needed. Dear Mary Oliver put it like this in her poem: It You Say It Right, It Helps the Heart to Bear It...
The comforts
of language
are true
and deep;
in a cemetery,
in the South,
so many stones
and so many
so small.
Sometimes
three or four
in a row.
In this instance:
Eliza May,
Oceola,
Joseph.
Can you imagine
the condition
of the heart
of a mother
or a father
watching these plantings?
I cannot.
But I try.
"God taketh
his young lambs home"
is carved there.
A few words
like water
on a stone.
Cool and beautiful
like water on a stone.
If you are in town, please stop by and sing with us, ok?
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