All of This Time

This is week 42 of #songaweek2021. Which makes this week “the answer to the ultimate question of life, the universe, and everything.” But not necessarily this song. It just gets to say it was born in a fortuitous time.

Oh, I must give some credit for inspiration – this post from The Marginalian (formerly Brain Pickings) discussing a book about trees called Old Growth, about how trees do everything, including living and dying, on a very different timescale from us humans.

And thanks to my daughter for letting me use her Sirius Black bobblehead, and my brother for the gift of the Ukrainian nesting doll many years ago. They were very cooperative film stars.

I remember my grandmother and the laundry on the line
But I feel it like a story from another space and time
Oh the sweet sting in the memories of the days we’ve left behind
Gone forever, come back never, nevermore

There goes the me I used to be
Here comes the one I’m setting free
All of this time it’s up to me to live with me
In peace

There’s a country undiscovered in each other who I meet
You’re a universe of wonders and you share this air I breathe
It’s a language only you know but I’ll listen when you speak
You mean more to me than anything you say

There goes the you I thought I knew
Here is the you I’m talking to
All of this time I’m only taking in a glimpse
Of you

I go dreaming with the trees while they are dying by degrees
Round my feet I feel their children rising up from broken seeds
Taking root, spreading out, bright sky, dark ground
Changing ever and forever, evermore

There goes the world we used to know
Here comes the one we’re making now
All of this time it’s up to us to live with us
In love

Uncle Frank (The Ballad of Gus Dominguez)

My great-grandfather Gus Dominguez was born to parents who had emigrated to the US from Cuba and Germany. Gus spent a decade in a Brooklyn orphanage and then part of his teenage years living on the streets. His daughter, my grandmother Hazel, had given me a copy of a typewritten transcript of some of his memories of those years, as told by him. I kept this transcript in a notebook and recently pulled it out to read to my children. I had remembered there were some pretty colorful moments in the story and thought they’d be interested to hear it.

After that reread I thought it would make a pretty good folk ballad, so that’s what I did for my song last week. I sat with Gus’s story and rhymed it into a song, trying to keep it as faithful to his telling (in content, style and wording) as possible.

Nathan generously contributed several hours of work adding guitar and drum tracks to help keep this long song musically interesting.

And I spent lots of time perusing the Internet for photos of 1900s Brooklyn and Philadelphia. And cats and cigar stores and saloons. This was such a fascinating way to feel more connected to my great-grandfather and the time and place in which he grew up. Many of the photos I found were from a book published by Danish immigrant Jacob Riis, called How the Other Half Lives. The typewritten words are from photos I took of the transcript my grandmother gave me. Incidentally, I learned that she was named Hazel after Gus’s sister Hazel (unnamed but mentioned in his memoir), who died from the 1918 flu, shortly before Gus’s daughter, my grandmother Hazel, was born.

Uncle Frank has a lot of nerve
Coming to see me after all these years
Since he turned us all out of his home
And left us at the Home of Saint John

We weren’t even Catholic till he sent us there
To keep four kids out of his hair
I used to be Lutheran, not that it matters
I’m just a poor boy, beaten and battered

Uncle Frank
Uncle Frank

The laundry man took me when I was sixteen
I saw he had four kids and seen what it’d mean
To stay there washing all day and all night
Keeping those children all in my sight

Laundry Man
Laundry Man

So I went tramping alone on the streets
Looking for food and a place to sleep
I saw a stable and found nearby
A covered wagon with blankets inside

So that’s where I slept, at the Navy Street gate
Where I seen a man with a familiar face
A sergeant Marine who was my brother Fred
He took me on board and made sure I was fed

Brother Fred
Brother Fred

I still had no room so I asked around
And worked for a lady hauling milk around town
It didn’t pay cash but I got a home
And two meals a day and she got me some clothes

But then she took sick and she closed up shop
And once again I was out of luck
She gave me two dollars so I could eat
And I headed back out on the Brooklyn streets

Brooklyn Streets
Brooklyn Streets

I slept in hallways, got up at sunrise,
Found some meals for a decent price
My two dollars lasted for six more days
I kept looking for any kind of work that pays

Inside a saloon on Fulton Street
Was a lunch laid out with so much to eat
I looked at that lunch, hungry as a bull
Dreaming of feeling my belly full

The bartender said you look half-starved
Help yourself, I thanked my lucky stars
Twenty customers watched me eat
Threw coins in my hat till I had tears on my cheeks

Kind Strangers
Kind Strangers

They gave me eight dollars ten cents and their smiles
And told me where I could live on that for a while
Twenty-five cents for a night of sleep
In a sailor’s flophouse on Tremont Street

Then a man took me in and I worked for his brother
Scraping rusty pipes, sealing ships’ boilers
It was dirty work but a decent life
Till he came home drunk and started beating his wife

I tried to butt in and he smacked my face
So I knew I had to get out of that place
Next time he got drunk and beat her again
I picked up his poor cat, and threw it at his head

Out the window went the poor cat
I ran away and never looked back
I’m sorry for the cat, I don’t know how it did
But I had to leave if I wanted to live

Poor Cat
Poor Cat

I found a good job as a captain’s boy
The storms were rough but I was employed
Near the Cuban coast I got drunk with a friend
The captain hit me hard and said my job had to end

At least they paid me – forty dollars
I was a rich man, I went to the track
My bet paid off, I bought some new clothes
Worked for a while as a stable hand

I started to look for the other kids
Searching through all the Dominguezes
I found the school where my sister was
And that she was being well taken care of

I rented a room on Navy Street
And then one day who should I meet
My old man himself, waiting for me
I greeted him as if he hadn’t left me

He asked me to go with him to PA
Said he’d explain it all on the way
He’d married again, had two more kids
And changed his name cause of something he did

I said, what did you do? Did you kill or steal?
Then he told me a story and it was all real
He got engaged and then changed his mind
Cause he’d found out she was the high-flying kind

She didn’t want to let him go
But he didn’t want to keep her and so
He threw acid in her face
So now the police were on the chase

He changed his name to Frank Hidalgo
And from now on I should call him Uncle

Uncle Frank
Uncle Frank

He ran a cigar shop in Philadelphia
My brother Fred came in and recognized him
Fred sailed right at him, cussing and mad
Frank ducked behind the counter and I got bashed

Then Fred started crying and I tried to explain
But he just left and didn’t come back again

Brother Fred
Brother Fred

I finally found Charlie, my other brother
Through an ad in the New York newspaper
He came to Philadelphia, turned out alright,
And then our house caught fire one night

And who do you think started that fire?
Yeah you got it right – that cowardly liar
A lighted cigar, a hall filled with clothes
Good old Uncle Frank, right on the nose

Uncle Frank
Uncle Frank

My mother died when I was six
This story shows how dear a mother is

Perfect Pretend Night

I got Nathan to play along on this one so it’s officially a Cabin of Love song! And just indulged in old romantic movie scenes for the video. Sabrina, The Philadelphia Story, and Roman Holiday are the movies these snippets came from.

Let’s pretend that we’re all alone
And there’s nothing to see on our shiny phones
And the children have all gone to bed
And there’s visions of each other dancing in our heads

And we know just what to do
And we feel a love so true
And the stars are shining bright
On this perfect pretend night
Buh duh duh dum bah bah bah dum

You go first and I’ll follow you
To the ends of the earth in these dancing shoes
That we’re making believe are on our feet
While we’re moving to a rhythm oh so slow and sweet

And we know just what to do . . .

Who cares the weather or how we feel
This is our secret world and we make it real
So let there be light in each other’s eyes
And magical nights under black velvet skies

And we know just what to do . . .

No One

You wouldn’t know it from these song lyrics, but I have been in a good mood on this beautiful day all day today. Maybe that’s the best way to write sad songs. Not that this is necessarily a sad song. I’m not really sure. I sat at the piano and came up with this chord progression and rhythm and really liked it because I was hoping to write an upbeat song and this felt like the right musical direction for that.

Ah but then the lyrics, which tumbled out while I mostly watched (or that’s what it felt like). They were even darker at first and I honestly wrestled with whether I should allow such a song to exist. Initially, the last little chorus went like this – “I’m dying, dying, living alone / Goodbye, I’m leaving, there’s nobody home.” (I know!!)

I’m truly mystified when a song like this writes itself so effortlessly. I wonder, is my subconscious trying to tell me something? Is this song speaking someone else’s pain and it’s important for me to give voice to that? Because I truly was not feeling this way today, nor have I been in quite a while.

In my writing process I often record a voice memo of each iteration of the song, then play it back to myself so I can experience it as a listener. It was in the playback that I felt confident that my first version of that last chorus was just too maudlin/sentimental/melodramatic.

And so we ended up here, and I still don’t feel like I know much about this song’s meaning, cerebrally. I certainly can feel that it gives out vibes of loneliness and vulnerability and maybe even hope and tenderness. Might come back to this one in the future after it’s had some time to settle. I always enjoy hearing how a song hits someone else, so feel free to tell me in the comments.

I tried to call you but nobody answered and that’s how it’s been for a while
So I went out walking and looking for somebody else who could lend me a smile

But no one, no one, no one was there
There was no one, no one, no one around

I wanted to tell you that I’m fairly certain that everything’s falling apart
The walls are all cracked and there’s holes in the curtains so they just can’t keep out the dark

And no one, no one, no one is here
Here is no one, not a soul to be found

No one just wants to be alone
And live their life in nobody’s home

Funny, I didn’t post my song for week 37 of #songaweek2021 on my blog, but that one is called “No One. But You” because the prompt for that week was “no one but you” and I thought I’d be clever with it. Now I have another “No One” song that I like better but of course it’s not so light and bouncy. Here’s “No One. But You,” just for the record (at least until I have to remove it to make space for newer songs on my free Soundcloud account ;):

Songs Left Expanded

This week I added to a shorter song from a couple months ago (Songs Left – https://juliabloom.org/2021/07/30/tiny-songs/).

When the dust settles, when the smoke clears
When you and I are all gone from here
Will there be songs left for someone to sing
When you and I are all gone from here?
When you and I are all gone from here?

Do not rush
Hush, hush
You are free
deep down free
Wind is breathing in your soul

Here is joy
steel-toed joy
Patience too
embracing you
Music courses through your veins