Song Lyric Sunday: Photograph

Song Lyric Sunday was created by Helen Vahdati. If you’re a blogger and would like to participate, click here for guidelines.

This week’s theme is “photograph.” The song I’m featuring below was popular when I started seventh grade, and for some reason, it was going through my head, as I walked to and from the bus stop each day. Its meaning wasn’t clear then. Now, I can relate to its sentiment and am thankful my late husband didn’t choose to just leave me with only a picture to remember him by. Enjoy, and have a great day.

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Disclaimer: I don’t own the rights to these lyrics, and copyright infringement isn’t intentional.

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Photograph–Ringo Starr

Every time I see your face
It reminds me of the places we used to go
But all I’ve got is a photograph
And I realize you’re not coming back anymore
I thought I’d make it
The day you went away
But I can’t make it
Till you come home again to stay
I can’t get used to living here
While my heart is broke, my tears I cry for you
I want you here to have and hold
As the years go by, and we grow old and gray
Now you’re expecting me to live without you
But that’s not something that I’m looking forward to
I can’t get used to living here
While my heart is broke, my tears I cry for you
I want you here to have and hold
As the years go by, and we grow old and gray
Every time I see your face
It reminds me of the places we used to go
But all I’ve got is a photograph
And I realize you’re not coming back anymore
Songwriters: George Harrison / Richard Starkey

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Abbie Johnson Taylor
We Shall Overcome
How to Build a Better Mousetrap: Recollections and Reflections of a Family Caregiver

That’s Life: New and Selected Poems
My Ideal Partner: How I Met, Married, and Cared for the Man I Loved Despite Debilitating Odds
Like Me on Facebook.

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Sunday Song Lyric: Over the Rainbow/What a Wonderful World

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Instead of my Saturday song feature, I’m trying something a little different. This was started by another blogger, Helen Vahdati. If you’re a blogger who would like to participate, click here for guidelines. Basically, you post song lyrics along with a video of the song. Helen suggests a theme every week, but you can post whatever song you wish as long as you include a reference to who wrote the song, a link to where you found the lyrics, and a link to a video or recording of the song. You may also link to her blog and/or mine.

Today, I’m giving you a two-for-one special. This is a medley of “Over the Rainbow” and “What a Wonderful World,” and the way these two songs are put together is intriguing. I love the vocal and ukulele rift at the beginning and end.

“Over the Rainbow,” as you probably know, is from The Wizard of Oz, one of my favorite movies. In fifth grade, I played Dorothy and sang this song in a production of this. In 2013 after my father passed away, my group sang “What a Wonderful World” at his celebration of life.

I first heard this medley in the waiting room of a doctor’s office where I was with my late husband Bill after he suffered two strokes that paralyzed his left side. At times when I was a caregiver, I wished I could have been taken over the rainbow to a wonderful world. Enjoy, and have a great day.

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Over the Rainbow
Written by Harold Arlen, as sung by Judy Garland

Somewhere over the rainbow
Way up high
There’s a land that I heard of
Once in a lullaby

Somewhere over the rainbow
Skies are blue
And the dreams that you dare to dream
Really do come true

Someday I’ll wish upon a star
And wake up where the clouds are far
Behind me
Where troubles melt like lemon drops
Away above the chimney tops
That’s where you’ll find me

Somewhere over the rainbow
Bluebirds fly
Birds fly over the rainbow
Why then, oh why can’t I?

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What a Wonderful World
Written by Bob Thille (as George Douglas) as sung by Louis Armstrong

[Verse 1]
I see trees of green, red roses too
I see them bloom, for me and for you
And I think to myself
What a wonderful world

[Verse 2]
I see skies of blue, clouds of white
Bright blessed days, dark sacred nights
And I think to myself
What a wonderful world

[Bridge]
The colors of a rainbow
So pretty in the sky
Are also on the faces
Of people going by
I see friends shaking hands, saying how do you do
They’re really saying, I love you

[Verse 3]
I hear babies cry, I watch them grow
They’ll learn much more
Than I’ll never know
And I think to myself
What a wonderful world
Yes, I think to myself
What a wonderful world

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Abbie Johnson Taylor
We Shall Overcome
How to Build a Better Mousetrap: Recollections and Reflections of a Family Caregiver

That’s Life: New and Selected Poems
My Ideal Partner: How I Met, Married, and Cared for the Man I Loved Despite Debilitating Odds
Like Me on Facebook.

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Review: The 10 Cent Chocolate Tub

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The 10-Cent Chocolate Tub

by Mike Mcgann

Copyright 2006.

 

In this collection of essays, the author talks about his life growing up in Pitsburgh, Pennsylvania, and in the suburbs as well as his experiences in the military and in musical theater and his broadcasting career. He explores such topics as parenting, radio, bullies, and disco. In one piece, he explains how he met Gene Kelly while collecting money on his paper route. A 10-cent chocolate tub is a huge ice cream cone made by Bard’s Dairy in Pittsburgh during the 1950’s when children were given only a nickel for vanilla ice cream.

Although Mike Mcgann grew up a little before my time, I enjoyed reading his stories. I almost wish I’d been alive back then. I laughed at some of his anecdotes of life in the city and in the suburbs. Having perfect pitch, I can appreciate one thing he says when talking about his musical theater experiences. “There should be a rule that if you can’t sing in tune and on key (or close to it), you can’t sing in public.” I love the title. I wouldn’t mind having one of those 10-cent chocolate tubs right now, but I guess I’ll settle for chocolate frozen yogurt from Schwann. It’s more healthful.

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Author Abbie Johnson Taylor

We Shall Overcome

How to Build a Better Mousetrap: Recollections and Reflections of a Family Caregiver

That’s Life: New and Selected Poems

My Ideal Partner: How I Met, Married, and Cared for the Man I Loved Despite Debilitating Odds

Click to hear an audio trailer.

Like me on Facebook.

 

Glenn Miller Brings Back Memories

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Thanks to Glenda Bealle for inspiring this post. I recently had an opportunity to hear the Glenn Miller Orchestra live in concert. As the seductive strains of “Moonlight Serenade” flowed through the theater, I got goosebumps and was moved almost to tears, wishing my father was still alive and sitting next to me at that moment.

His father played the saxophone in a band before World War II, and Dad was born in 1936 while the band was touring in Pueblo. The family settled here in Sheridan in 1938, and in 1940, Grandpa Johnson started the family’s coin-operated machine business.

Dad once told me that Grandpa fought in the war and lost part of his hearing as a result of constant artillery fire. He may have continued to play the saxophone afterward, but I’m not sure. In any case, Dad grew up appreciating jazz and passed that on to me as evidenced by a poem I posted here a while back.

I’m not sure where my mother was born on December 7th, 1935, and I no longer have her obituary. I do know that she did most of her growing up in Colorado where her father was a school principal in Berthed. She once told me about her birthday when Pearl Harbor was bombed in 1941. She and her family were driving to the countryside for a picnic when the news came on the radio. Her father turned the car around and drove back to town. Needless to say, there was no birthday celebration that year.

My late husband Bill was born on October 18th, 1942 in Fowler, Colorado. Growing up on a farm, he wasn’t exposed much to big band music and never appreciated it much except for vocals. In fact, he was fond of saying that since he couldn’t see anything, he fell in love with my singing voice. You can read more of our story in my new memoir. I wish I’d taken time to learn more about my late parents’ and husband’s lives growing up during the Glenn Miller era.

I bought a CD at the concert that night, and now, “Pennsylvania 6-500” fills my home office, as I edit this. Is there a singer, band, or type of music that gives you goose bumps, moves you to tears, and/or brings back memories? Please tell me about it.

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Author Abbie Johnson Taylor

We Shall Overcome

How to Build a Better Mousetrap: Recollections and Reflections of a Family Caregiver

That’s Life: New and Selected Poems

My Ideal Partner: How I Met, Married, and Cared for the Man I Loved Despite Debilitating Odds

Click to hear an audio trailer.

Like me on Facebook.

 

Review: The Art of Memoir

The Art of Memoir

by Mary Karr

Copyright 2015.

 

The author of Lit and other memoirs talks about the craft of writing such a book. She covers such topics as truth versus fiction, finding your voice, and how to deal with reactions of family members to what you write about them. She uses work by other authors to illustrate her points and provides an appendix of over a hundred suggested memoir titles.

I found it hard to get into this book, probably because I’ve already written a memoir, My Ideal Partner: How I Met, Married, and Cared for the Man I Loved Despite Debilitating Odds, which will be coming out sometime this month. I only picked up Mary Karr’s book because a discussion of it was planned for a meeting of Behind Our Eyes, a writing group to which I belong. After slogging through two and a half chapters and skipping part of one, I decided not to finish the book. This might be more helpful to someone considering writing a memoir.

 

Author Abbie Johnson Taylor

We Shall Overcome

How to Build a Better Mousetrap: Recollections and Reflections of a Family Caregiver

That’s Life: New and Selected Poems

 

 

School Memories

The following poem is a triptych. It’s based on an art form that involves drawing three related pictures on three canvases side by side. The three sections of a triptych can be placed side by side in poetic form or one below the other in paragraph form. I was inspired to do mine in paragraph form after reading a diptych at http://www.poets.org/poetsorg/poem/diptych-my-bracelet . A diptych is like a triptych except it has two sections instead of three. Now, here’s my triptych.

 

SCHOOL MEMORIES

 

1

 

The three-story red brick building gleams in the sunlight. On the front lawn stands a jungle gym, no swings, no merry-go-round. There can be nothing with moving parts for children might get hurt. Because of my low vision, I fell and scraped my knees many times while playing kickball on the cement play area. One girl with good eyes hurt her back when she fell off the jungle gym. Now, the cries of children fill the early fall morning air. The bell’s peel silences the din. We sixth-graders hurry to get in line so we can march into the building and begin our day.

 

2

 

On a foggy day with rain predicted, the yellow school bus pulls up in front of another red brick building with a playing field in back. I was never much for sports, never attended games, didn’t even try out for cheerleading, having been told, “You can’t do this because you can’t see.” I hated gym, math, science, home economics. I couldn’t throw a ball to save my soul, tell you the sum of an equation, or explain chemical compounds, couldn’t even sew. I could play the piano and sing, entertained during study hall, performed in the glee club and orchestra but didn’t earn grades where they mattered. Now as an eighth-grader, I emerge from the yellow bus, resigned to starting another day in junior high.

 

3

 

Several red brick buildings cluster together: a main classroom building, a science and agriculture building, a gym, and a separate building containing an auditorium, swimming pool, smaller gym, and classrooms for music, art, ROTC and other subjects. Not required to take home economics and P.E. or too much math or science, I flourished in English, literature, and other subjects I liked. Wanting to be in theater like my parents, I acted in plays, participated in the speech team, won several awards. I wanted to be a singer, was awarded second place in a talent competition, was given a standing ovation, as I marched across the stage to receive my diploma. Instead of telling me I couldn’t do it because I couldn’t see, they said, “Let’s figure out how you can do it, even though you can’t see.” Now, on a frosty September morning, my footsteps on the board walk climbing the hill resound with joy, as I approach the remaining years of my public education.

 

 

Abbie Johnson Taylor, Author

 

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Remember When…

Do any of the items in this poem ring a bell? Please feel free to share your memories below.

Morning Story and Dilbert

dilbert

Close your eyes and go back… Before the Internet, or the MAC…
Before semi automatics and crack…

Way back. I’m talkin’ ’bout…

Hide and seek at dusk. Sittin’ on the porch, The Good Humor Man, and Red Light, Green Light.

Chocolate milk, Lunch tickets, Penny candy in a brown paper bag.
Playin’ Pinball at the corner store. Hopscotch, butterscotch, doubledutch, Jacks, kickball, dodgeball, Mother May I? Red Rover and Roly Poly.

Double Dog Dares! Hula Hoops and Sunflower Seeds, Mary Janes, Banana Splits, Wax Lips and Mustaches. And running through the sprinklers.

The smells of outdoors… and lickin’ salty lips.
Watchin’ Saturday Morning cartoons like Fat Albert, Road Runner, He-Man, The Three Stooges, and Bugs. Or back further… 
listening to Superman and The Shadow on the radio.

Catchin’ lightening bugs in a jar, Playin’ sling shot.

Remember when around the corner seemed far away… and going downtown seemed like going…

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