Saturday, April 22, 2017

A Poetry Month post for my Sweet Sugar Max

April is National Poetry Month and I always try to share at least one poem with my friends and family either through a blog or a post on social media. I have always loved poetry but I also understand that some just don't get it. It makes me a bit sad for them and has often caused me to try and rally the resistant masses and help them learn to love (or at least gain a small appreciation of) poetry. I've even written poetry to help champion this cause and if you're interested, you can read those poems HERE.

This April has been particularly difficult. The sudden death of my 18 year old nephew has me heartbroken but resolute. I will miss him the rest of my life but I am determined to live, love and feel as much as I can since he can no longer do those things. My nephew, Max, was a gifted individual. Having been burdened with high functioning Aspberger's syndrome [1], he was also blessed with a talent for music and art.

Because of Max's love for music, I have decided to share lyrics (poetry set to music, in my opinion) to honor the memory of my sweet Sugar Max and to share some of his talent with those who choose to read and listen. The way I hear music changed forever when my nephew left this world. Although music has always been a huge part of our lives with my entire family, I listen to songs I have loved for years and wonder, "Why didn't I ever share that song with Max? He would have loved it and I would have loved to hear him sing it." The lyric poem I am sharing is one of those I wish I had shared with him. Not only is it one I have loved for decades, the words are poignantly relevant and speak to the loss my family feels so deeply.

If These Walls Could Speak by Jimmy Webb (recorded first by the great Glen Campbell)


If these old walls, if these old walls could speak
What a tale they'd have to tell, hard headed people raisin' hell
A couple in love livin' week to week
Rooms full of laughter, if these old walls could speak

If these old halls, if hallowed halls could talk
These would have a tale to tell, the sun goin' down and dinner bells
And children playin' at hide and seek
From floor to rafters, if these old walls could speak

They would tell you that I'm sorry
For bein' cold and blind and weak
They would tell you that it's only
That I have a stubborn streak
If these walls could speak

If these old fashioned window panes were eyes
I guess they would have seen it all
Each little tear and sigh and footfall
And every dream that we came to seek or followed after
If these walls could speak

They would tell you that I owe you
More than I could ever pay
Here's someone who really loves you
Don't ever go away
That's what these walls would say

They would tell you that I owe you
More than I could ever pay
Here's someone who really loves you
Don't ever go away
That's what these walls would say

That's what these walls would say
That's what these walls would say

If you are still not feeling the lyrical poetry love, here's a great recording of Glen and Jimmy from their album, In Session which I recommend you find it and listen to the entire album.....it's solid gold!



Fortunately for his family and friends, Max (short for Maxwell) posted several short videos of himself singing and playing the guitar. I visit and listen often and have come to view his instagram account as my very own Mirror of Erised. [If you're not a Potterhead, that's a nerd reference to something from the Sorcerer's Stone]
Feel free to listen to my Sugar Max. He's not even been gone a month and it feels like an eternity so far.

A post shared by maxwell cookie (@cookmax64) on



A post shared by maxwell cookie (@cookmax64) on



A post shared by maxwell cookie (@cookmax64) on



A post shared by maxwell cookie (@cookmax64) on




A post shared by maxwell cookie (@cookmax64) on




A post shared by maxwell cookie (@cookmax64) on



A post shared by maxwell cookie (@cookmax64) on


Notes:
1. As a toddler and young child, before Max was diagnosed but had peculiarities unlike any of his siblings. He didn't like to wear underwear, citing when he could speak that the elastic band bothered him. He would complain that the water of a shower hurt and when siblings would respond to him in a normal tone of voice he would say, "quit shouting".