The Song

The Song

My brother and I sang and sang
growing up, sang love songs from
operettas, sang pop, sang country
western. We didn't think about
it, we just sang because we liked
the way the sound came out of us,
didn't think about the words, just
sang because it felt good to have
music come out of your body and
we tied our feelings to the music
and let it all go like a kite
sailing up, up out of sight. No
use asking us why, we just did
it, just sang and sang. And
sang our way then into another
time where music was scarce and
it was harder to find the music
to tie the feelings to. I don't
remember when I stopped singing.
Jack stopped when he died, not
forty yet, still a young man.
Tonight I sit and think about time
and music and where people's lives
go and it's night and there's a
small breeze and I think about
people like Pavarotti and Louis
Armstrong and Ray Charles, singers
who can put people's joy and
sorrow into music and sing it
for them and I believe to my soul
that there is no more wonderful
thing to do in this world than
to sing and that of all the things
in the world a man can do, there
is no more honorable occupation.


Albert Huffstickler

La Dolce Vita
Austin, Texas
May 13, 1998 from Damaged Goods
Posted over on Vagabond