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about
Oct. 7, 2020 -- My father was born a hundred years ago today. He was a problematic character, tough on a lot of people, including himself. And when he finally faded out, back in 2004, it would be fair to say that feelings among those he left behind were ... mixed. He and I butted heads plenty over the years, but I realized early on that he didn't enjoy it any more than I did -- that in fact, the worse it got the more he suffered. This prevented me from ever hating him, and so saved me a lot of grief -- though others in my family were not so lucky.
But, thankfully, I remained able to see the man in full, not just the shadows but the light behind them: he was a talented pilot and, on that subject, a great story-teller; a left-handed golfer and a fierce competitor in any card game; and though he seldom sang, he had a sweet tenor voice that always came as something of a surprise -- as if it ought to belong to somebody else. And for many years when my brother and I were small (that's us in the picture), he would play at bedtime on an old upright piano in our room, improvising waltzes -- only waltzes, always waltzes, and always in the key of C -- that were never quite the same, yet always familiar, always lovely, soothing, simple, and true.
I wrote the song many years ago, sometime in the '90s, when he was still with us, but clearly beginning his decline. He never heard it, and since I wasn't performing much in those days, nobody else did either. I thought today would be a good day to finally get around to sharing it. Thanks for reading, thanks for listening. And thanks, old Dad-of-mine, for the blood in my veins, and the air in my lungs, and the waltzes -- yeah, especially those. Be seeing you... C. M. Duncan
lyrics
MY OLD MAN
(C. M. Duncan)
My old man, he's getting on
His memory's going, his backswing's gone
And changes of heart that depart from the plan
Just aren't in the cards
for my old man
My old man, he can hold a grudge
When he's in the right he never will budge
And he's been right all the time since Time began
It must be hard
being my old man
And nothing anyone can do or say
Will ever make him any other way
And my old man, he raised more kids than me:
My brother he don't call, my sister he won't see
He tried to run their lives and away they ran
Clear out of sight
from my old man
And sometimes in his eyes I think I see
A young man trapped and staring back at me
And my old man will tell you God's a fake
Another sucker bet that he'd never make
But he'll sit out watching stars all night long when he can
And so will I
with my old man
credits
released October 7, 2020
words and music by C. M. Duncan
(c) 2020 Wasteland Music/BMI
(p) 2020 Requisite Records
Artist Photography by Heather Dine, used by permission
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