“You used to make me go to church every Sunday in the evening.
Said that God was for men like me who swore they didn’t need him.
Now all this sin I don’t believe in is heavy on my back.
I wish you were here to tie my tie and make me sing and clap.”
- Jeffrey Martin -
Sixteen years… what does that mean? What significance does it have? Let’s go back to my final year in high school. She was pushing her bike next to me, her brown hair tied up in two thick braids. Blue ribbons completing the day’s look. She was talking about her upcoming netball game and my head was spinning. I could hardly keep it together. My teenage heart had never felt what it was feeling that day and I was awkward, self conscious, scared and utterly and completely in love. She was strong, intelligent and feisty and our conversations were filled with dreams, potential and adventure. We couldn’t get enough of each other. Suddenly I was looking forward to school and my eyes were always searching for the perfect flower to steal en route to see her after school. Life was a dance, a dance with her that lasted four years. We went to the US together, she was a babysitter in Chicago and I worked on a dairy farm five hours north in Central Wisconsin. Every week, like clockwork, for my entire contract, a purple envelope would arrive in the mail packed full of news, musings and poetry. We saw each other only three times in eight months. I’ll never forget the first time we saw each other for the first time in Wisconsin. I was struggling to find her bus stop and when I finally did she was waiting for me, sitting on her suitcase with the sunset changing her into a mystical golden flame. I remember her elegant coat and hair on her shoulders. Perfection.
I went back to the States for two more contracts while she went to University. She waited for me. Long distance phone calls and the sigh of longing when the signal broke became a weekly occurrence. We fought hard, we tried to make it work and make it last. But formative years can be hard on relationships. So many changes, different perspectives and time apart made drifting inevitable. I had become a man, working really hard and coming face to face with the dark side of grown up life. I started slipping deeper and deeper into depression and was struggling to manage all the changes while she really loved her some Jesus. She begged and later tried to force me to go to church with her. It always ended in conflict. I’m by no means an atheist but as the old cowboy song goes… I’ve never lived where churches grow, I loved creation better as it stood.
And I always seemed to feel God near in the bright starlight on the plains. I believe that every person should pursue whatever brings them peace or hope in this dark world filled with pain, chaos and confusion but the church never sat right with me. And so, on a hot January day we parted ways. It was a sad affair and even thinking about it now makes my heart feel like it has been punctured by some kind of sharp object. We remained friends and kept a healthy, respectful distance allowing each other to move on and discover new people and places, all the while respecting each other’s view on life. I’m incredibly thankful for that. She got married on a bright December day and pretty soon had a couple babies. I drifted for a while and up to now I haven’t really been able to make relationships work despite my best efforts. Eventually our contact became birthday messages and the last two years my messages have not gone through. I guess the circle is complete, the lifeline severed. We both are now adrift on the open ocean of adulthood and still trying to figure things out. Well, maybe she’s got it figured out. Me, I’m pushing forty in the friend zone. Writing songs, working on the farm and playing wherever and whatever gig I can find.
Speaking of gigs, I’ll be joining my fellow Vagabond, Gerhard Jacobs at the Drakensville Holiday Resort in the beautiful Drakensberg Mountains for some shows toward the end of June. We are also busy recording The Tygerfontein Sessions. From time to time we’ll meet up at an old bar or theatre or even just somewhere on the farm and record some songs that you will be able to enjoy on YouTube. The aim is to share my songs, old and new, with my followers and lay down the stories and songs using high quality video and editing. Keep an eye out on social media for the first batch coming soon.
Sixteen years….that’s how long I’ve been playing guitar. I was always writing poems and short stories or musings but after falling in love with Springsteen’s Ghost of Tom Joad narrative songwriting I had to learn to play and actually perform my songs and stories. Sixteen years I’ve been at it, alone, in bands and with co-conspirators like Gerhard Jacobs, Dirk Jordaan, Rufus Kirsten and too many others to mention. They know who they are. We’ve criss-crossed the country, played every occasion you can think of and for all the challenges the road can throw at you I have never regretted the decision to become a performer. I’m incredibly grateful that I get to share my life with my heroes. My heroes are some of my best friends and they make life bearable.
Sixteen years… I’ve learnt some hard lessons. Ive seen life and all it’s magnificent terror and beauty. I’ve realised that this is a real short movie and that our days are numbered. I realised that nothing ever stays the same and that nothing is guaranteed. The moment is all that matters. I’ve made it my mission to try and reduce the collective suffering of the world one moment at a time. I’ve learnt to let go and to stow away the memories of long lost ( but not forgotten ) lovers. I’ve learnt how to take a deep breath, stare out into the endless blue and bring their stories to life.
We will live forever on the pages of my notebooks and jingle jangle of my melodies. Our stories are written in the stars and will be heard in the small town bars for years to come. See you down the road. I hope I get to share my stories with you soon.
“So hover in the diving light
We will rip the night
Out of the arms of the sun one more time”
- Chris Cornell -
JB