About all of my loved ones who have died, who will pass from memory upon my death. Perhaps my songs will help preserve something of their lives, but when one has never met a person, no words or songs will ever really suffice. The “wish I could call her on the phone” line came from a mentally challenged adult who collected shopping carts at our grocery store, whose mother had also died, and who always lamented not being able to speak with her; all he wanted was to call her on the phone one more time. Stuck with me, so I used it, once it applied to me later on.

2. Like Your Own

(for Aunt Nini)

Originally recorded as part of the “Are You Leaving” collection, this is a very affectionate song about my Aunt Edith (“Nini”) whose memory I cherish from when I was a little boy. Her own son had died young, many years earlier, and she loved me “like her own”.

Nini’s apartment in The Apthorp was a magical place, and her kitchen floor was my chosen playroom!

3. Aunt Nettie’s Song

Aunt Nettie was one of the four older women who shaped my life early on, and the first of them to pass. “A Scottish Soldier” (by Andy Stewart, and now out of print) was the LP I played more than any other when I was very young, and it still resonates with me today. I would not be the songwriter I am, had Aunt Nettie not gifted me with that record. She was the sister of my grandfather, John (my Mom’s dad), and was a character. I loved her very much.

4. Black Cloud (for Bernice Hawkins)

Bernice Hawkins was an older African-American woman who shared in raising me. I was devoted to her, as she was to me. Bernice also died while I was in my teens, and I still miss her. She helped me with my piano lessons, and taught me a lot about life. Growing up in a mostly white, rich suburb, having had Bernice in my life saved me from a skewed view of Black people, and I thank her for that, although of course, that was never the intention at the time. It was only unconditional love back then.

5. One Rose (for Aunt Margaret)

Along with Aunt Nini, and the aforementioned Aunt Nettie and Bernice Hawkins, the fourth of my de facto grandmothers was Aunt Margaret, an immigrant from Northern Ireland, who outlived the rest, and who was very dear to me. She had a swell brogue, and was so upbeat. She was an example for all of us of what positivity can foment. Aunt Margaret was devoted to the men in our family, from my grandfather, to my Uncle Knox, to her husband Ben, and finally to me. I did, in fact, keep my one rose until the catharsis with that loon on the lake, that I somehow knew was Aunt Margaret’s spirit allowing me to say goodbye.

6. The Man Who Truly Loved Her

(for my grandfather, John)

I never met my grandfather, but I know that even some 70+ years after my Mom lost her father, John, at age 15, her love for him was palpable; he must have really been someone wonderful!

7. That Next Party

(for my grandmother, Laura)

I never met my grandmother either, so I only have what’s been passed down to me through my Mom and Aunt Edith. Laura and my Mom were polar opposites, but I know they deeply loved each other.

8. Oceans Of Love (for my Uncle Knox)

Uncle Knox and I had a complicated relationship, which I hope is echoed in this song. Although he could vex my Mom as no one else could, they shared an abiding love to the very end.

9. That Old St. Louis Tune

(for my Aunt Betsy)

Aunt Betsy was such a positive soul, and did not deserve her less-than-dignified final years, as she endured dementia. She was always so supportive of my following my own muse.

10. As Only True Love Can

(for my Mom and W)

Two star-crossed souls. I can’t even imagine the heartache, nor the extent of my Mom’s loyalty. He was the only man she ever loved (other than her relatives, of course).

11. Somebody’s Missing

(for my Mom)

This is a heartfelt missive to my mom originally recorded as part of the “Come and Gone” collection. I like the tempo shift, and how it ends with the instrumental, which suggests the title, actually…as the vocal is missing too. I wrote the piano’s answering melodies while recording the song, a welcome addition.

12. Family Man

Originally recorded as part of the “Come and Gone” collection, this speaks to a more current situation vis-à-vis surviving family, after my Mom had passed.

13. Come and Gone

This song (originally from the “Come and Gone” collection) suggests you can get through grief, or sadness, if you hang on to what’s been positive/valuable in your life. This song presages my own passing, and offers advice to a partner (during the final verse). One line’s idea was borrowed from Warren Zevon. Your memories are what’s important, and even if that’s not true, they’re all you’ll (eventually) have. Hopefully.

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