I have a compulsion to write. I have no idea why. I have said many times, I am like a musician, I just have to make music, even if the room is empty. It forces its way out of me. Writing, unlike music, is silent. It occurs in a vacuum, and cannot be heard, ever, unless it gets read out loud. I have no illusions that what I record on paper will ever be heard. The effort to compile thousands of words is like jogging in the park. Joggers do it for their health and sanity. They enjoy the scenery and the inner quiet.
I focus on the moment when I am writing, but the content comes from the memory card of my mind. As it spins I grab some files that inspire me to look into the data, to discover the roots of the experience, and then put that into a score. It hurts that I am so musically inept, so I just squeeze out what juice I can, and make literary lemonade. Sweetened to taste.
The following is lemonade on the rocks of my 73 years of living. I will link some interesting anecdotes of my most memorable experiences that have left impressions in my memory cache. I decided to do this now because I sense another major turning point approaching. You know how you can smell a rainstorm? I don't know when it will occur, or what to expect, I just feel something in my bones telling me this is the moment…
Alan Jackson 2003
Remember when I was young and so were you
And time stood still and love was all we knew
You were the first, so was I
We made love and then you cried
Remember when we vowed the vows and walked the walk
Gave our hearts, made the start, it was hard
We lived and learned, life threw curves
There was joy, there was hurt
Remember when old ones died and new were born
And life was changed, disassembled, rearranged
We came together, fell apart
And broke each other's hearts
Remember when the sound of little feet
Was the music we danced to week to week
Brought back the love, we found trust
Vowed we'd never give it up
Remember when thirty seemed so old
Now lookin' back, it's just a steppin' stone
To where we are, where we've been
Said we'd do it all again
Remember when we said when we turned gray
When the children grow up and move away
We won't be sad, we'll be glad
For all the life we've had
And we'll remember when
I dedicate this book to my dear wife Cathy.
I could not have known
when we stood in front of the minister
at our wedding and made our vows,
that I would be feeling the exact same sense of love
and commitment today, 39 years later.
She is my rock.