When Faced With The Past, The Strongest Man Cries

Dan Fogelberg has died. His music touched me profoundly. I don't think I would be who I am today without his romantic, lovely, painfully beautiful muse touching my obdurate heart when I was a young man. I am not sure I could have even made it through my first year in college without his soulful, evocative voice.

The snow turned into ... rain.

I told my wife last night that I had always felt I would someday know the man. I feel that way about a number of musicians. I've always felt I'd someday be friends with Bruce Cockburn and Bono, to name but two others. But these hopes are naïve and woefully conceited -- as if I could ever be friends with these eminently talented men. And now Mr. Fogelberg's death -- at best -- delays my dream.

There is some small comfort knowing that Mr. Fogelberg came Down East to die; that he would choose the rugged coastline of New England as his final stop brings me some small sense that we shared at least one thing in common.

Here is a sunrise to set on your sill
the ghosts of the dawn moving near
they pass through your sorrow and leave you quite still
sitting among souvenirs

Peace to you, and Godspeed, my dear man. My heart… forever thankful.

©Bill Gnade 2007/Contratimes. All Rights Reserved.