Knuckles

Silver Lining dept.

One time I was asked to give a “keynote” address at a Songwriters Convention in Cape May, in southern New Jersey. Easy stuff, I thought. So I wrote one up and planned to give that. Then….life took a little turn.

So I ripped up that speech, and this is the speech I ended up giving.

When I was asked to deliver this address, I sat down and wrote 1500 words about songwriting.

It went along like this:

If you want to write a song, write a song. Simple as that.

If you wanna write songs, write songs.

Get out of your way.

Just write em.

They aren’t maybe gonna be masterpieces right away. Who cares. Most of the guys who wrote or painted—or whatever—made scientific discoveries—Most of them started out writing crap. Not always. Sometimes the first strokes are the best strokes.

I think you gotta build up the muscles. You can’t suddenly go toe-to-toe with Federer for 5 sets in 100 degree heat, when you only hit once every couple months.

That’s how it went. It was funny. It was pithy. It was, to be honest, a little cocky.

Cause that’s how I felt. About this whole endeavor.

It’s easy. What’s the big deal? To quote the geniuses at the Nike Corporation,

“Just do it!”

Grab your guitar. Play some chords. G. E-minor. C. D.

Simplest thing in the world.

Write about anything. Write a birthday song for your Mom. Write an Arbor Day song. A Flag Day song. Then, when the Muse comes your way, you’ll be ready. Your songwriting muscles will be toned. You’ll know what to do.

In the meantime, get busy. Come on, what could be simpler? Grab your guitar, play some chords. E, C sharp minor, A, B….

And then….I stuck my hand in a snowblower.

When I pulled it out and saw my bloody fingers, I thought, “My life is over.”

We rushed to the emergency room. My daughter was still in her pajamas. They cleaned me up and sewed some stitches. They said I had exposed bone. My left hand, the index and middle fingers. They gave me the number of a hand surgeon.

A few hours later I was pleading with the hand surgeon. Please, I’m a guitar player. It’s what I do. Please, save what you can. I’m a guitar player. It’s what I do.

The hand surgeon was not optimistic. It’s pretty bad, she said. Your bones are exposed. There’s no skin left to grow over it.

Please, I said. I’m a guitar player.

Suddenly, the notion of playing a G chord was the only thing that mattered in the world.

I howled all the way to the hospital to have my surgery. They wanted to give me something to calm me down. I didn’t want anything until I saw the surgeon. I wanted to be able to communicate lucidly one last time before I went under and she did her work. Please, I’m a guitar player. Save what you can. Please.

Then, suddenly, the liquid did its thing, and I was out.

When I came to, I was immediately aware of my knuckles. I had knuckles. I was missing my fingertips. My fingernails were gone. But I had knuckles. It’s the only thing I could think of. I have knuckles. Somehow, with knuckles, with that last bend at the top of my fingers, I would be able to figure this out. A G chord seemed attainable. Maybe there’d be something that could be attached to the end of my finger. A….dare to say it….prosthetic device.

(That very morning someone had emailed me a link to prosthetic devices. TOO SOON MAN! What can I say. Well meaning? I guess. Maybe. But Christ almighty. Too soon!!)

Anyway. My knuckles, yes. Somehow, with my knuckles still there, I felt like I could work it out.

The hospital drugs were still in me for a good 30 hours. And during that time it was easy to be very high-minded. It could have been my whole hand! I could have easily lost 4 fingers in one moment! Or my thumb!

All true. All very true. I felt elated, and grateful. I talked with friends, and sounded chipper, and asked about them, and their lives, and their kids.

Then things turned. You can look at things from a couple different angles. What COULD have been. Compared to which, you’re doing great, and really fortunate.

And then, you see things versus how they HAD BEEN. And it’s a shock anew. How did this happen? What now? I’ll never be the same….

I guess I’ll probably go back and forth for awhile. Can’t do any physical therapy til I’m healed up some. But I’m gonna have all the incentive in the world to do it. And all the warm wishes of people from all over, that means a lot too. I can’t lie to you, it really does.

When I was first honored to be asked to talk tonight, I thought I was just gonna talk about writing songs. Cause after all, that was the most important thing in the world.

And don’t get me wrong, writing songs is fun, exhilarating, rewarding in countless ways.

But, from where I’m standing right now, the things that really matter are friends and family. And making a G chord again.

And having my knuckles.

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So that’s what I said back in New hope, New Jersey.

The thing I didn’t know then, was that during the time I couldn’t play guitar, I learned the piano.

And now I’m one of those piano guys.

Piano Guy

Total Silver Lining.

Must be a lesson there, somewhere.

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Here’s “Piano Guy”: