Time with Dad

Remember those V-8 commercials...

…When they would whack their foreheads in disbelief, saying that they could have had an healthy tomato-veggie drink all along that would have been so much better than soda or a cookie…? “(Whack!) I could have had a V-8!”

Well, there’s a big red handprint on my forehead these days

I’ll back up a little.

I’ve been writing songs for a good while (ok, since I wrote “Brown Dirt” when I was 9 (?) - correct me, Dad).

I see the Brown Dirt below me

I see the sun shining from above

I see the whole world around me

But I just can’t find my true love


I see the flowers bloom in springtime

I see the leaves turn up in fall

I feel the winter turn below me

But I just can’t seem to hear my true love call

Honestly, never thought I’d be sharing THOSE lyrics!

My memory is that Dad pitched an alt for the winter line and I liked it. Co-writing even back then.

I’ve been hosting Co-writing gatherings here every month for a while now, and it’s been great - sometimes just a couple people, sometimes a dozen or so, hopping into breakout rooms to get to know each other and maybe do a little writing. Just to build some community around actually writing together instead of only going solo (nothing against that, mind you!). It’s been lovely - with great moments of laughter, connection - and songs coming out of it! I’ve really enjoyed it.

But part of me realizes that I’m not really needed for this to happen - maybe I’ll figure out a way to help provide the space so the monthly gatherings continue - but the V-8 commercial has hit me hard. So I’m re-thinking my SubStack life a bit. Letting it simmer.

Time with Dad has become my primary focus writing-wise. We are meeting regularly and going through the process in a way that works for us so far.

We’ve done a version of this before - many years ago. Dad was a prolific writer when he was in residence at Actors Theatre of Louisville for over 15 years - churning out plays, monologues, (as well as acting, directing…and running a farm!) - he has always been a creative powerhouse. We created a show together called Feast Here Tonight where we used some of Dad’s monologues - like the remarkable Rupert’s Birthday - about a woman who didn’t celebrate holidays…other than Rupert’s birthday. Kinda want you to read it to see why. It’s so gorgeous. (Hint - Rupert is a calf on her farm.) I wrote songs to accompany these stories, and the good folks here in NYC at the lovely Vineyard Theatre (still goin strong!), mounted it. We learned a lot - and had a really sweet time doing it.

We were both quite busy with our lives and loves and travels and work things. He lived on the West Coast for a good long while (after we got to be on Broadway together! That’s for another article…), and we got to visit when I was out west for work, or on Rupert’s birthdays :)….

And now - we are writing together again, and both loving it. Not to mention living on the same coast! The red mark on my forehead came from not thinking of doing this with him SOONER, but the mark is fading, as this time with Dad is being productive and fun. HUGE props to him for enduring the indignities of Zoom meetings when the weather has been so prohibitive - but that has proved to be a useful tool. We’re about a dozen verse/choruses in and now circling back to expand the ones we feel like working on, and adding music. I’ve always been a bit superstitious about sharing creative process, but this seems a safe place to do that. And maybe it’ll allow you to do the same - the rough edges are sometimes the most interesting to me.

So here’s the next draft of the first one we wrote in these Time with Dad sessions. I shared the first lyric pass in this article. We did another pass on lyrics, and I added some guitar and vocal ideas. Including some impromptu warbles (wobbles?) for back-up spots. One take into an iPhone, then moving on. Trying to not get bogged down with “perfecting”. Just drafting. Not an easy thing for me to commit to, but feels like a healthier choice.

Like that V-8! (Who knows if that is actually healthy. Probably way too much salt, right??).

Maybe just have a vegetable.

Carrots and Beans

Mom was the name that we all called her
And she’s the one who raised me
She’d hold my hand if I got scared
When the preacher screamed on Sunday

The devil gonna reach up and grab you
And drag you down below
She’d pat my knee and whisper gently
Honey, that ain’t so

Nothing evil in the ground
There ain’t no devil down there
Just roots and rocks and things you sow
Like radishes and cabbages the good things that we grow 
Fear is not a godly tool 
Your hands are all you need
They’re good for raising up in prayer, sure, but they’re also good for
Planting carrots and beans

That old woman ain’t your mother
A bully sneered and smiled
Who’s your real mom and dad? 
Are you a bastard child?

I said I didn’t understand
Was I supposed to know?
Was I gonna wind up 
With the Devil down below?

And she’d say

Nothing evil in the ground
There ain’t no devil down there
Just roots and rocks and things you sow
Like radishes and cabbages the good things that we grow
Fear is not a godly tool
Your hands are all you need
They’re good for raising up in prayer, sure, but they’re also good for
Planting carrots and beans

The fear I carried all my life took more than it deserved
But when I had it too damned bad - she’d say these magic words        

Nothing evil in the ground
There ain’t no devil down there
Just roots and rocks and things you sow
Like radishes and cabbages the good things that we grow
Fear is not a godly tool
Your hands are all you need
They’re good for raising up in prayer, sure, but they’re also good for
Planting carrots and beans