Another…

 1/3/ 2023

More memories…. ☺

   “I thank you for the music

And your stories of the road

I thank you for the freedom

When it came my time to go --

    I thank you for the kindness

And the times when you got tough

And, papa, I don't think

 I said 'I love you near enough --

   The leader of the band is tired

And his eyes are growing old.

But his blood runs through

My instrument,

And his song is in my soul --

   My life has been a poor attempt

To imitate the man

I'm just a living legacy

To the leader of the band

I am the living legacy

To the leader of the band.”

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“And Papa, I don’t think I said ‘ I love you “near enough.”

** This song means so much more than being about Dan Fogelberg’s father. My dad, even though he never had much to say by the time I came along. He’d been shut down by my mom so often, I think he gave up. The lyrics of the last part make me get teary-eyed. I remember as I got past the snotty kid stage, my dad let me help paint with him.We used to like taking long walks through the woods... As we walked down our long lane, Dad pointed out some of the birds, the rabbit hiding under a bush, thinking he was hidden. He showed me how to scrape old paint from an old piece of furniture. He told me about helping his dad (my grandfather) who took him hunting geese or ducks out on “The Flats “.  His Irish ancestry gave me my absolute love for horses. Thanks, Dad.

 One time, after I had moved out, I stopped in to visit.We were sitting against a huge tree after they had moved into town…   We shared a bottle of wine. By that time, he knew that his heart would not continue to keep him alive, and had begun having a glass of wine or a beer every so often. He got very serious and looked at me. He said that I was the one person who could keep the legacy of the duck carvers alive. It was in my blood… all of the others were not going to want to, but he hoped that I would continue loving this area as he did and that when I heard the shotguns over the fields and rivers, I’d remember.

   Ohhh, the wonderful stories I got to hear. From the hard work and the arguments, he grew to know as normal, the drinking that went on almost daily.  

  That was when I was much older… when he died in California, I felt him leaving me. I remember sitting outside on some steps crying my heart out. 

  I still miss him and seeing him walking down the path from my parents' house to mine because he knew I was scared of the massive thunderstorms that happened every summer. 

‘Dad, I am still scared of those storms. Yeah, I know that it’s silly, but sometimes I wish we could sit once again talking as they move through. I miss you .

                                                  James R. Heverin Sr./ WW II