From the recording The Sound That Love Makes
This song was written in late August of 2015 after learning of the sudden and unexpected passing of my dear friend and mentor, Ed Pears. Ed was the Executive Director of YMCA Camp Lakewood from 1983-85. He had a profound impact on my life, and many others, in the relatively short time we had together at Camp. All told, I spent three summers working with him and, for better or worse, he changed the trajectory of my life, and those of so many others. When he passed away in 2015, so many of us who had the privilege of working with him felt the deep and immediate vacuum in the world. This song took less than a week to write and I spent the next several weeks recording this version of it.
The song is laced with copious camp references, including several campfire standards from the ridiculous to the sublime. "The Whooping Bird song," "Your Mama Don't Wear No Socks," "Mr Moon," "The Wishy Washy Washy Woman," and "Hi, My Name is Joe!" (the button factory worker), and of course, John Denver's "Today." There are "friendship rocks". Rocks with naturally ocurring holes in them so you could lace a cord through it and give to someone as a neclace. I still have the one my wife gave to me in the summer of 1985. There is a tip of the hat to all the counselors who came to work there from all over the globe. “Pretty near holy” comes from a long-standing inside joke between a half dozen late-night guitar strummers and I’m not gonna be the one to spill those beans. You’re gonna have to pry that one outta someone else who was there!
There is a mention of Ed's practice of giving away the shirt off his back at the closing campfire of the summer to one of us who had inspired him that year. I wore the one he gave me in '85 until it, quite literally, disintigrated. And of course, being a "camp song," the day had to begin with the playing of Reveille, and Taps also HAD to make an appearance. Both graciously supplied by my dear friend, Mr. Lon Alderman who was, among many things, our staff bugler during that era.
If you ever spent time at a summer camp either as a camper or a counselor, I hope this takes you back.
Lyrics
So today you sent us fumbling through boxes, drawers, and milk crates
With numb determination, seeking photographs and keepsakes
Resurrecting secret memories from so many secret places
And expecting all the tears that went falling off our faces
And accepting what a miracle it was you even graced us in the first place
So collective excavations yielded countless treasure troves
Once neatly packed away, now lays around us on the floor
A rock, pocked with a hole where a lanyard used to go
From that kid you could have strangled if you hadn't loved him so
And a bracelet someone made for you, and only you two know about that kiss
And the memories, unleashed, attack in waves
Bombarding all the souls you held sway
Relentless as the fires in countless hearts you sparked
In the tinder of those dear departed days
So today you got us mumbling silly words to sacred tunes
About a bird that whooped its head off, sockless moms, and Mr. Moon
And a wishy washy woman made us dance
And Joe, the button factory worker, worked to make us laugh
But, “today while the blossoms still cling to the vine,” just makes me sad
So all across the country and the world, the truth be told
Down in the land down under where our summer months get cold
From London to Nigeria we are scattered 'round the globe
Bound by one experience embedded in our souls
We found within the eyes daring dreams down deep inside us to be bold
And the memories, unleashed, attack in waves
Bombarding all the souls you held sway
Relentless as the fires in countless hearts you sparked
In the tinder of those dear departed days
So today our summer ended, another season come and gone
As you climbed up in that bus, leaving us and heading home
And waving as you pull away, the dust gets in our eyes
It must look like we're crying as we try to say goodbye
And I guess there's no denying we're gonna miss you
And the mischief in your smile
I wore the shirt you gave me 'til the weft had left the weave
Like disintegrated flannel, your death unravelled me
And I know we all must, someday, take our leave
But I don't foresee me pardoning the thief
And maybe it was only youth and daring
And maybe it was only just a dream
And maybe it was everything it seemed to be
As for me, it was everything I needed
And we gathered 'round our boxes strung with wires
Until fingers bled and hearts were set on fire
And in that golden moment we were holding nothing petty
And for a time, we were pretty near holy
So, today you sent us fumbling through boxes, drawers, and milk crates
With numb determination, seeking photographs and keepsakes
So please forgive our sadness and please forgive the tears
And thank you for the magic in those months that lasted years
And I hope you feel the gladness in our hearts for the life you gave us here
And the memories, unleashed, attack in waves
Bombarding all the souls you held sway
Relentless as the fires in countless hearts you sparked
In the tinder of those dear departed days
Music & Lyrics by David Greathouse
© 2015, Sourdough Music, ASCAP