Written from a eulogy for my father; original text burned overlooking the Blue Ridge Parkway, Thanksgiving 2006.
lyrics
The leather of this camera strap is starting to weather with years of good use and family heirlooms up on the wall from winter to fall the years bring us back to the spring. And with a historian since gone to his rest the world is neither more heavy or light the sun doesn’t burn less or get any brighter and that is just so hard to take. Drawn from a photograph for posterity, did I make these memories or did they make me? Shirts lying flat on your sitting chair where basketball came to meet with Jim Beam . We’re packing the car to take your memory up where the angels sing, we just can’t hear the melody. Drawn from a photograph for posterity, did I make these memories or did they make me? And if the end is the beginning, these memories of mine are a dream in a dream.
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