John Prine Jesus the Missing Years

In 1991 Prine released the Grammy Award-winning album “The Missing Years,” his first collaboration with producer and bassist Howie Epstein. The title song records Prine's humorous take on what Jesus did in the unrecorded years between his childhood and his ministry. The song later reappeared on the live album, “Live on Tour,” in 1997.

If you listen carefully you will notice many of John’s compositions include his view of religion. “God Only Knows,” “When I Get Heaven,” “Whistle & Fish,” even “Paradise.” There’s even an article called “John Prine's Images of God and Male Melancholia: Terror, Forgiveness, and the Persistence of Desire” in the “Journal of Religion and Health.” I guess I’m not the only one that has noticed.

Some poets, or in this case, a singer-songwriter, can get into trouble. No wonder Plato wanted to exile them from his Republic. These poets are like a force of nature tending towards disorder, challenging what we see, asking questions no one wants asked. It’s Warren Zevon declaring “I was born to rock the boat” (from “Mutineer”) and Bob Dylan declaring, “the sun’s not yellow, it’s chicken.”

Along comes John Prine asking questions and poking fun at Jesus or at least the common notions of Jesus and you know that’s trouble. It’s why our parents got so upset about the music we listened to.

In concert, Prine introduces this song with some humorous patter about his latter day discovery that there were these missing years in Jesus’ life. Anyone who pays attention knows this, but most glide right past the point. The Bible describes Jesus’ childhood that takes him to age 12, then he steps off stage and we hear nothing from him again until he’s thirty.

No one asks too many questions about what Jesus was doing all those years. If pressed, most Christians might answer that Jesus hung out in Nazareth with his family, perhaps working as a carpenter with his Dad. (Johnny Cash intones a song called “Jesus was a Carpenter.” “Jesus was a carpenter/And he worked with a saw and a hammer/And his hands could form a table strong enough to stand forever.”)

So John Prine lets the idea of the missing years roll around in his head for a while until he does what a songwriter does: he turns those musings into a song. If there are no facts, he imagines some truth, has some fun, lets loose a little whimsy as he imagines a life for the young Jesus. You might want to ground yourself before reading the lyrics as the lightning bolts might fly if you say them too loud. Or you just might consider that our Lord has a good sense of humor. Anyway, I assume John’s up there now, and I’ll bet they’re having a good laugh about …

(spoken) Jesus… the missing years

It was raining. It was cold
West Bethlehem was no place for a twelve year old
So he packed his bags and he headed out
To find out what the world's about

He went to France. He went to Spain
He found love. He found pain.
He found stores so he started to shop
But he had no money so he got in trouble with a cop

Kids in trouble with the cops
From Israel didn't have no home
So he cut his hair and moved to Rome
It was there he met his Irish bride
And they rented a flat on the lower east side of Rome…Italy that is
Music publishers, book binders, Bible belters, Money Changers,
Spoon Benders, and lots of pretty Italian chicks.

Chorus:

Charley bought some popcorn
Billy bought a car
Someone almost bought the farm
But they didn't go that far
Things shut down at midnight
At least around here they do
Cause we all reside down the block
Inside at 23 Skidoo.

Wine was flowing so were beers
So Jesus found his missing years
He went to a dance and said "This don't move me"
He hiked up his pants and he went to a movie

On his thirteenth birthday he saw "Rebel without a Cause"
He went straight on home and invented Santa Claus
Who gave him a gift and he responded in kind
He gave the gift of love and went out of his mind

You see him and the wife wasn't getting along
So he took out his guitar and he wrote a song
Called "The Dove of Love Fell Off the Perch"
But he couldn't get divorced in the Catholic Church

At least not back then anyhow
Jesus was a good guy he didn't need this shit
So he took a pill with a bag of peanuts and
A Coca-Cola and he swallowed it.

He discovered the Beatles
And he recorded with the Stones
Once He even opened up a three-way package
In Southern California for old George Jones

Repeat Chorus:

Charley bought some popcorn
Billy bought a car
Someone almost bought the farm
But they didn't go that far
Things shut down at midnight
At least around here they do
Cause we all reside down the block
Inside at 23 Skidoo.

The years went by like sweet little days
With babies crying pork chops and beaujolais
When he woke up he was seventeen
The world was angry, the world was mean
Well, the man down the street and the kid on the stoop
All agreed that life stank, all the world smelled like poop
Baby poop that is, the worst kind.

So he grew his hair long and thew away his comb
Headed back to Jerusalem to find mom, dad and home
But when he got there the cupboard was bare
Except for an old black man with a fishing rod
He said "Whatcha gonna be when you grow up?"
Jesus said, "God"
Oh my God, what have I gotten myself into?
I'm a human corkscrew, all my wine is blood
They're gonna kill me mama, they don't like me bud.

So Jesus went to Heaven
And he went there awful quick
All them people killed him
And he wasn't even sick

So come and gather around me
My contemporary peers
And I'll tell you all the story of Jesus
The missing years.

Repeat Chorus:

Charley bought some popcorn
Billy bought a car
Someone almost bought the farm
But they didn't go that far
Things shut down at midnight
At least around here they do
Cause we all reside down the block
Inside at 23 Skidoo.

Spanish Pipe Dream

As I grow older, my memory seems to fade. I can’t recall all the things I used to think, and often do dumb things without knowing it. As I gathered up materials to write about my favorite John Prine songs (and I know it is a long list … I have a lot of favorites), I skipped right over this one. I was looking at song titles and singing the tunes in my head. When I saw "Spanish Pipe Dream" it didn’t ring a bell. I didn’t find that title very inviting.

Then, almost by accident, as I played some of my Prine “Albums” (can you call them that when you are playing them on Apple Music ((which was called iTunes until they changed it))) and I heard this song again. I just didn’t connect the title to this song I really like. So I added it to my list to write about.

(I do have a list. I’ll bet you are wondering when I will finish. Well, I think I’m about half way. It is a LONG list.)

Here’s what John says about this song:

“I wrote this when I started performing. I thought the first song of the show should be up and bouncy. I can only play two rhythms—fast and slow—so this was written to go with my fast bouncy rhythm.”

“Originally, the chorus wasn’t about blowing up your TV. It was something about the girls forgetting to take the pill, but sunk pretty low after that first great verse. I sounded like Loretta Lynn singing about ‘the pill.’ Then I got the line ‘blow up your TV.’ I used to keep a small bowl of real fine pebbles that I picked up on my mail route, and if somebody said something really stupid on TV I’d throw some at the screen."

This was written and originally released by John Prine on his self-titled debut album. John Denver recorded a famous cover version on his 1971 album, “Aerie.”

The song is about a soldier who meets a topless dancer who tells him it is good to live simply: "Blow up your TV, throw away your paper, go to the country, build you a home." They both end up living by that advice. You could even add this song to John’s religious theme if you notice the right lines.

Spanish Pipe Dream

She was a level-headed dancer on the road to alcohol
And I was just a soldier on my way to Montreal
Well, she pressed her chest against me
About the time the jukebox broke
Yeah, she gave me a peck on the back of the neck
And these are the words she spoke

Blow up your TV, throw away your paper
Go to the country, build you a home
Plant a little garden, eat a lot of peaches
Try and find Jesus on your own

Well, I sat there at the table and I acted real naive
For I knew that topless lady had something up her sleeve
Well, she danced around the bar room and she did the hoochy-coo
Yeah, she sang her song all night long, tellin' me what to do

Blow up your TV, throw away your paper
Go to the country, build you a home
Plant a little garden, eat a lot of peaches
Try and find Jesus on your own

Well, I was young and hungry and about to leave that place
When just as I was leavin', well she looked me in the face
I said "you must know the answer"
She said, "no, but I'll give it a try"
And to this very day we've been livin' our way
And here is the reason why

We blew up our TV, threw away our paper
Went to the country, built us a home
Had a lot of children, fed 'em on peaches
They all found Jesus on their own

It's a Big Old Goofy World

John Prine was sitting with his mother in the kitchen once and they were looking at some magazine or puzzle book that was full of idioms and similes such as “cold as ice” or “fit as a fiddle” or “drinks like a fish.” His mother and he had a good time coming up with their own common expressions and out of that foolery came this song.

I compare John Prine to Mark Twain. It is easy to make the connection between Mark Twain, the nineteenth-century writer and lecturer, and John. Like Twain, Prine views the world with joy and pity — with humor and disdain. While Twain utilizes literary techniques to advance his impressions, Prine’s musical compositions demonstrate his unique outlook. Perhaps foreshadowed by Bob Dylan, today’s poets often materialize as singer/songwriters.

Prine’s observations of the world around him reflect the attitudes and practices of modern American culture. His views on love, social issues, politics, and religion are presented in a vernacular language that is made accessible by melodies that are both poignant and memorable.

Prine’s song, It’s a Big Old Goofy World is a microcosm of his world view.

As he riffs on the silly similes, he tells the story of a happy couple. So happy they’re dancing. It’s a fun song, like many of John’s compositions. A simple tune to make you all feel happy.

John can legitimately be regarded as a Country singer and musician. He gravitated toward Nashville as evidence of that. My personal tastes run more to Folk music, and I can make a case for John as Folk artist too. (I could do the same for Dylan.) That works for me!

Folk music can be measured by the ability of regular folks to perform it, and most Prine songs can easily be performed and appreciated with voice and guitar and still retain their essence. Though the words may be complex, the simplicity of the music makes the songs accessible. You don’t have to be a great singer to do Prine. At least that’s my excuse.

When I hear this song, I think the Big Old Goofy Man is John himself. Maybe he’s dancing with his mom, or maybe with his wife. You know they all shared his vision: It’s a Big Old Goofy World. Sometimes you have to laugh to keep from crying. This morning that’s my mission: to laugh to keep from crying.

Whether Folk or Country, this song is just fun. It could even be classified as kid’s music, the kind you hear in a Daycare. (Guess you folks didn’t know I’ve spent time in a Daycare, and I don’t mean as a kid! Yes I have.)

So let’s all sing along with John. After all, it IS a

… “A Big Old Goofy World"

Up in the morning
Work like a dog
Is better than sitting
Like a bump on a log

Mind all your manners
Be quiet as a mouse
Some day you'll own a home
That's as big as a house

I know a fella
He eats like a horse
Knocks his old balls
Round the old golf course

You oughta see his wife
She's a cute little dish
She smokes like a chimney
And drinks like a fish

There's a big old goofy man
Dancing with a big old goofy girl
Ooh baby
It's a big old goofy world

Now Elvis had a woman
With a head like a rock
I wished I had a woman
That made my knees knock

She'd sing like an angel
And eat like a bird
And if I wrote a song
She'd know ever single word

There's a big old goofy man
Dancing with a big old goofy girl
Ooh baby (sing like Elvis)
It's a big old goofy world

(Bridge — for you Folk players)

Kiss a little baby
Give the world a smile
If you take an inch
Give 'em back a mile

Cause if you lie like a rug
And you don't give a damn
You're never gonna be
As happy as a clam

So I'm sitting in a hotel
Trying to write a song
My head is just as empty
As the day is long

Why it's clear as a bell
I should have gone to school
I'd be wise as an owl
Stead of stubborn as a mule.

And there's a big old goofy man
Dancing with a big old goofy girl
Ooh baby
It's a big old goofy world

Ooh baby
It's a big old goofy world

Hello In There

Brandi Carlile recently appeared on The Late Show with Stephen Colbert to pay tribute to singer-songwriter John Prine, who died on April 7,2020 at age 73 from complications related to COVID-19.

Brandi chose to play one of John's most beloved songs, Hello in There, which she said has special meaning amid the coronavirus pandemic. “I think that this is a song that John would like me to sing, because this song refers to the people that we're all staying home to protect,” Brandi said.

This song was on John’s self titled first album released in 1971. And what a debut it was: Illegal Smile, Hello in There, Sam Stone, Paradise, Far From Me, Angel From Montgomery, Donald and Lydia — all my favorites. Born in 1946, John wrote all these great tunes when he was twenties, or maybe his teens.

(The Great Compromise and Souvenirs were on his second album — more favorites.)

John has said, "I heard the John Lennon song Across the Universe, and he had a lot of reverb on his voice. I was thinking about hollering into a hollow log, trying to get through to somebody — Hello in there. That was the beginning thought, then it went to old people.”

“I’ve always had an affinity for old people. I used to help a buddy with his newspaper route, and I delivered to a Baptist old peoples home where we'd have to go room-to-room. And some of the patients would kind of pretend that you were a grandchild or nephew that had come to visit, instead of the guy delivering papers. That always stuck in my head.”

“It was all that stuff together, along with that pretty melody. I don't think I've done a show without singing Hello in There. Nothing in it wears on me."

He told Bruce Pollock, "The names mean a lot. You know, like Loretta in Hello In There. I wanted to pick a name that could be an old person's name, but I didn't want it to stick out so much. People go through phases one year where a lot of them will name their kids the same &ellipsis; and I was just thinking that it was very possible that the kind of person I had in mind could be called Loretta. And it's not so strange that it puts her in a complete time period."

As for the name of old factory friend Rudy, Prine explains, "We used to live in this three-room flat and across the street there was this dog who would never come in and the dog's name was Rudy. And the lady used to come out at five o'clock every night and go 'Ru-dee! Ru-dee!' And I was sitting there writing and suddenly I go 'Rudy! Yeah! I got that.”

I remember the first time I heard my friend William (he was Billy back then) play Hello in There. You can’t remember everything that happened in your years, but some things are just special enough that you remember exactly, even things that happened more than 50 years ago. I recall thinking about the meaning of that title. Were these old folks closed up and so they were “in there” … in their thoughts … in their recollections … in their memories?

So, just to refresh everyone’s memory, here is

Hello in There.

We had an apartment in the city
Me and Loretta liked living there
Well, it'd been years since the kids had grown
A life of their own left us alone

John and Linda live in Omaha
And Joe is somewhere on the road
We lost Davy in the Korean war
And I still don't know what for, don't matter anymore

Ya' know that old trees just grow stronger
And old rivers grow wilder ev'ry day
Old people just grow lonesome
Waiting for someone to say, "Hello in there, hello"

Me and Loretta, we don't talk much more
She sits and stares through the back door screen
And all the news just repeats itself
Like some forgotten dream that we've both seen

Someday I'll go and call up Rudy
We worked together at the factory
But what could I say if asks "What's new?"
"Nothing, what's with you? Nothing much to do"

Ya' know that old trees just grow stronger
And old rivers grow wilder ev'ry day
Old people just grow lonesome
Waiting for someone to say, "Hello in there, hello"

So if you're walking down the street sometime
And spot some hollow ancient eyes
Please don't just pass 'em by and stare
As if you didn't care, say, "Hello in there, hello"

Dear Abby

Are you ready for some more John Prine? …

I can't hear you. Again, are you ready for some John Prine? …

That's better. You want some more, here's some more (obscure Zappa reference).

Sweet Revenge is the title track from Prine's third album, the one with the cover portrait of him with his cowboy boots on the upholstery in a convertible he bought with the money from his first two.

The songs inside are a rocking account of newfound success that immediately detours toward hilarity. It conveys cockeyed optimism with a smear of darkness dirtying the frame. (OK I copied that from somebody else. I can't create all the golden nouns and verbs.)

"I got kicked off Noah's ark," Prine sings like some shaggy Don Quixote. "There were two of everything but one of me." The wisecracks keep coming as the band plucks behind him and Cissy Houston adds some gospel harmonies. The narrator cozies up to an English teacher on a plane who doesn't like his jokes about red balloons, hears his own songs on the radio, and keeps things weird.

"The white meat is on the run and the dark meat is far too done," Prine croaks, whatever that means. It doesn't matter. What it means is that life makes no obvious sense, but people can make stories from the random-seeming joy and pain it offers, and share them with each other, and do a lot more than muddle through.

This album shows the maturity of Prine as he records with a full orchestra and vocal backings. Personally I sort of prefer the simpler "Prine," just him and some basic backing, maybe a sharp guitar player like Johnny Burns adding tasty riffs, a bass, possibly some drums. I like his duets, especially with his good friend Steve Goodman, and certainly I appreciate how Bonnie Raitt digs up extra melody in her rendition of John's song. But what I like best is John in a simple combo.

My favorite song from the album is Dear Abby. While almost all of the album was recorded in the studio, the cut of Dear Abby came from a live performance. It was attempted in the studio but, as Prine told David Fricke in 1993, "The studio version of that was cut with a band, and it was real stiff and humorless. We cut it once, live, and that was it. That was the power of the song, in the way people would turn their heads the minute I'd get to the first verse, the first chords. That was the reason we used the live version."

It comes from an experience when John was touring in Europe. Each morning he’d go down to the hotel breakfast where he would find a little locally printed newspaper in English. The staff would copy some items from the Times or the Post or the News in English for their foreign guests. As John perused the little mimeographed paper he found an old friend. Someone to make him think of home in that foreign language speaking country. A close old friend, Dear Abby. So he wrote this song about it:

Dear Abby, Dear Abby
My feet are too long
My hair's falling out and my rights are all wrong
My friends they all tell me that I've no friends at all
Won't you write me a letter, won't you give me a call

Signed Bewildered

Bewildered, Bewildered
You have no complaint
You are what your are and you ain't what you ain't
So listen up buster, and listen up good
Stop wishing for bad luck and knocking on wood

Dear Abby, Dear Abby
My fountain pen leaks
My wife hollers at me and my kids are all freaks
Every side I get up on is the wrong side of bed
If it weren't so expensive I'd wish I were dead

Signed Unhappy

Unhappy, Unhappy
You have no complaint
You are what your are and you ain't what you ain't
So listen up buster, and listen up good
Stop wishing for bad luck and knocking on wood

Dear Abby, Dear Abby
You won't believe this
But my stomach makes noises whenever I kiss
My girlfriend tells me it's all in my head
But my stomach tells me to write you instead

Signed Noise-Maker

Noise-Maker, Noise-Maker
You have no complaint
You are what your are and you ain't what you ain't
So listen up buster, and listen up good
Stop wishing for bad luck and knocking on wood

Dear Abby, Dear Abby
Well I never thought
That me and my girlfriend would ever get caught
We were sitting in the back seat just shooting the breeze
With her hair up in curlers and her pants to her knees

Signed Just Married

Just Married Just Married
You have no complaint
You are what your are and you ain't what you ain't
So listen up buster, and listen up good
Stop wishing for bad luck and knocking on wood

Signed Dear Abby

That's the Way That the World Goes Round

Back when John Prine first got sick I wrote about my personal experience with John Prine. When you're an acoustic guitar player, musicians like Bob Dylan and John Prine seem to write just for you. You gotta have a good memory for lyrics because there's not a lot of repetition other than the chorus. The chords are easy, but the words … ahhhh … the words.

After John passed, I guess I was surprised how many of my friends posted notes about their experience with John and his lyrics. I admit it was a surprise to me that John was so popular. I thought he was just my personal idol and gift to me only.

Sure some of my folk buddies knew him (and his words … all of them). But the rest of the world!?! Life is about surprises.

And, of course, any common idiot knew John Prine was very popular. Unfortunately I'm an uncommon idiot so it surprised me.

Anyway, in memoriam, I've been playing a lot of his songs on my little iPod/iTunes library (and I've got all 20 or so "albums"). But like much of my life and times, my favorites were the early ones … Sweet Revenge, Bruised Orange, John Prine, and Diamonds in the Rough. I've even got his compilation album: Great Days from '93.

Now all you gentle readers know I love to develop a theme and post every day. So what say you if I start posting Prine lyrics? Sure, that sounds like something nice to read as an alternative to posts about the virus or politics. Come on now … sing along … after all … That's the Way That the World Goes Round …

I know a guy that's got a lot to lose.
He's a pretty nice fellow but he's kind of confused.
He's got muscles in his head that ain't never been used.
Thinks he own half of this town.

Starts drinking heavy, gets a big red nose.
Beats his old lady with a rubber hose,
Then he takes her out to dinner and buys her new clothes.
That's the way that the world goes 'round.

That's the way that the world goes 'round.
You're up one day and the next you're down.
It's half an inch of water and you think you're gonna drown.
That's the way that the world goes 'round.

I was sitting in the bathtub counting my toes,
When the radiator broke, water all froze.
I got stuck in the ice without my clothes,
Naked as the eyes of a clown.

I was crying ice cubes hoping I'd croak,
When the sun come through the window, the ice all broke.
I stood up and laughed thought it was a joke
That's the way that the world goes 'round.

That's the way that the world goes 'round.
You're up one day and the next you're down.
It's half an inch of water and you think you're gonna drown.
That's the way that the world goes 'round.

Muhlenberg County

Thinking about the Coronavirus pandemic. For we baby boomers this is an unexpected final act to a life that has been mostly fortunate and lucky. At least for most of us born between 1946 and about '63 which is the range of the "Baby Boomer Generation" I believe.

What a climax. Ignoring the Vietnam war, our generation never had it so good. Born after the great conflict and living through the greatest prosperity of the United States to get to this point and just wonder, "what is next"! We've had it so good for so long, "what is next"!

So my thoughts turned to this:

MUHLENBERG COUNTY

I wrote a while back how sad I was to hear the John Prine has contracted the Coronavirus. He was such a musical hero of mine.

My musical life and time on the guitar had many phases. Starting when I first learned in High School and perfected (as much as my mediocre playing was ever perfected) in college in Butte, MT. That was followed by six years in the Navy, much of which I lived in a very musical home with some musicians, and we played lots of rock and what we called “beach music” which was a reference to the clubs in Virginia Beach and the Motown music we heard there. I had a Gibson Firebird electric and a couple of keyboards, and we rocked that house.

Got out of the Navy, sold the Gibson, keyboards, amps, and moved on. In Colorado I bought a nice used Epiphone acoustic. I have it to this day. It was built in Kalamazoo back before Gibson bought Epiphone and made it their low cost offering.

Once I arrived in Colorado I met another musician and we became close friends to this day. He and I would play a lot of stuff on acoustic guitars and many of my favorites were penned by John. My absolute favorite is one called Paradise, although I always referred to it as “Muhlenberg County.” Like most good music and lyrics, this song tells a story from John’s childhood. It takes one back to their own youth and floating down rivers or shooting pop bottles.

The simple song which we always did in D with just a G and an A was one of my favorites to play and to sing. John wrote a lot of thoughtful songs: Sam Stone, Illegal Smile, Hello in There. We did them all. His most famous is Angel from Montgomery. Made a top hit by Bonnie Raitt.

Back when William Weinacht (he was Billie back then) and I played, just the two of us at his house in Denver, are some of my best memories. This was before I got married. The girls would come over and listen and swoon. (Well, at least smile.)

He came from a very musical family. His dad played bass with Casey Anderson. I did a lot of recording for Casey. William's brother, Jeff, also played bass, and we were a trio and sometimes a quartet. William plays everything. His original instrument was drums, but he plays guitar, banjo, violin, flute, and even a little keyboards. Much more dedicated and skilled and talented musician than me, but that was part of the fun. I sing some leads and some harmonies and just try to keep in key.

But the most talented of the Weinacht family was brother Gary. He has written a ton of songs and is a great solo entertainer. He lives these days in Scotland, but makes it back to CO now and again. Last April when he was here, we all joined in of the verses of Paradise. I do the high harmony on the chorus and we trade verses. Here, you can sing along:

When I was a child my family would travel
Down to Western Kentucky where my parents were born
And there's a backwards old town that's often remembered
So many times that my memories are worn.

And daddy won't you take me back to Muhlenberg County
Down by the Green River where Paradise lay
Well, I'm sorry my son, but you're too late in asking
Mister Peabody's coal train has hauled it away

Well, sometimes we'd travel right down the Green River
To the abandoned old prison down by Airdrie Hill
Where the air smelled like snakes and we'd shoot with our pistols
But empty pop bottles was all we would kill.

And daddy won't you take me back to Muhlenberg County
Down by the Green River where Paradise lay
Well, I'm sorry my son, but you're too late in asking
Mister Peabody's coal train has hauled it away

Then the coal company came with the world's largest shovel
And they tortured the timber and stripped all the land
Well, they dug for their coal till the land was forsaken
Then they wrote it all down as the progress of man.

And daddy won't you take me back to Muhlenberg County
Down by the Green River where Paradise lay
Well, I'm sorry my son, but you're too late in asking
Mister Peabody's coal train has hauled it away

When I die let my ashes float down the Green River
Let my soul roll on up to the Rochester dam
I'll be halfway to Heaven with Paradise waitin'
Just five miles away from wherever I am.

And daddy won't you take me back to Muhlenberg County
Down by the Green River where Paradise lay
Well, I'm sorry my son, but you're too late in asking
Mister Peabody's coal train has hauled it away

John grew up in Chicago, but he would visit family in Kentucky and boat down the Green River. There was an old abandoned prison from the Civil War on a hill called Airdrie. When he told his grandmother that he and his friend had hiked up that hill she warned him of the snakes … lots of snakes. She said they smelled like cucumbers. She advised him to take a pistol for protection. “But empty pop bottles was all they would kill.” (Some versions on YouTube John sings “the air smelled like cucumbers.”)

Folk music always has a story. We all have a story. Now my old friend, Gary Weinacht, is suffering from cancer. He won’t be with us much longer. Sad.

At my age there are a lot of childhood friends that may not be with us much longer. That includes me.

So take care of yourselves my friends. Each day is a blessing. Things have changed in this wonderful country we grew up in. Some better, but it seems many for the worse. Mister Peabody’s train has hauled it away. We may not be able to go back. I try. In my mind and thoughts and in my words.

Daddy won’t you take me back?
When I die let my ashes float down the Green River
Let my soul roll on up to the Rochester dam
I'll be halfway to Heaven with Paradise waitin'
Just five miles away from wherever I am.