[stylist] Fw: attachments: Neil Diamond I Am I Said.mp3

Fri Nov 21 16:43:12 UTC 2008

Fred,
For me, it's the line in "My Back Pages" 
"Ah, but I was so much older then, I'm younger than that now."
Donna at 58

-- 
For my bio & to hear clips from The Last Straw:
http://cdbaby.com/cd/donnahill

Apple I-Tunes

phobos.apple.com/WebObjects/MZStore.woa/wa/viewAlbum?playListId=259244374

Performing Arts Division of the National Federation of the Blind
www.padnfb.org


Fred Wurtzel wrote:
> Hi Judith,
>
> Well, I realized that I made a mistake.  "You can never Go Home, Again" is
> Thomas Wolf, not John Dunn.  Anyway, your post got me thinking about songs
> with that theme.
>
> Here are a few I listened to last night.
>
> "She's Leaving Home" Beatles
> "My Back Pages" Bob Dylan
> "Talking Old Soldiers" Elton John
> "My Little Town" Simon and Garfunkel
>
> The Elton John has the most poignant line.  It is, "I know what is like to
> have a graveyard as a friend."
>
> The theme of home, growth, loss and change are powerful emotive topics for
> writers.  Most everyone can identify with them since they are universal
> experiences for humans.  Listening to these songs last night was a moving
> experience.  I hadn't done that before.
>
> Thanks for the idea.
>
> Warm Regards,
>
> Fred
> -----Original Message-----
> From: stylist-bounces at nfbnet.org [mailto:stylist-bounces at nfbnet.org] On
> Behalf Of Judith Bron
> Sent: Friday, November 21, 2008 8:14 AM
> To: NFBnet Writer's Division Mailing List
> Subject: Re: [stylist] Fw: attachments: Neil Diamond I Am I Said.mp3
>
> Thanks, Fred.  I love the song and the Chicken Soup series has to be one of 
> the best!  Judith
> ----- Original Message ----- 
> From: "Fred Wurtzel" <f.wurtzel at comcast.net>
> To: "'NFBnet Writer's Division Mailing List'" <stylist at nfbnet.org>
> Sent: Thursday, November 20, 2008 11:54 PM
> Subject: Re: [stylist] Fw: attachments: Neil Diamond I Am I Said.mp3
>
>
>   
>> Hi Judith,
>>
>> I liked the essay from Chicken Soup.  I am a Neil Diamond fan.  I have
>> always interpreted this song as a restatement of John Dunn's "you can 
>> never
>> go home again."  It is also about America's restlessness.  Our separation
>> from the extended family, etc.
>>
>> The Title and refrain make it an optimistic song.  As the essay says, we
>> define ourselves and cannot give that definition up to others and keep our
>> dignity and self-worth.
>>
>> Sorry for the running on.  I enjoyed both the song and the essay and feel
>> better for reading, listening and responding.  Thank you.
>>
>> Warm Regards,
>>
>> Fred
>>
>> -----Original Message-----
>> From: stylist-bounces at nfbnet.org [mailto:stylist-bounces at nfbnet.org] On
>> Behalf Of Judith Bron
>> Sent: Thursday, November 20, 2008 9:12 AM
>> To: Stylist
>> Subject: [stylist] Fw: attachments: Neil Diamond I Am I Said.mp3
>>
>> I think you will enjoy this "Chicken Soup for the Soul" column.  The song 
>> by
>>
>> Neil Diamond could be called a downer, but if you look at it as a positive
>> you realize that what he is warning against is allowing yourself to be a 
>> has
>>
>> been.  Give a listen, Judith
>> ----- Original Message ----- 
>> From: "Nancy J. Lynn" <freespirit.stl at gmail.com>
>> To: <Undisclosed-Recipient:;>
>> Sent: Thursday, November 20, 2008 2:18 AM
>> Subject: attachments: Neil Diamond I Am I Said.mp3
>>
>>
>>     
>>> I found this little story in yesterday's Chicken Soup for the Soul column,
>>> so I'm sending it along with this song. Enjoy both.
>>> I Am I Said
>>> The young physical-therapy aide at the rehabilitation center chattered
>>> endlessly while we prepared for my session. I'm embarrassed to admit I 
>>> was
>>> too caught up in my troubles to listen to her. As I watched the other
>>> patients struggling with their crutches and wheelchairs, my spirit was
>>> overcome by a sense of loss.
>>>
>>> So much had changed. Only weeks had passed since bone cancer stole my 
>>> left
>>> leg.
>>>
>>>
>>> Recently healed from surgery, I could barely sit in a chair for an hour 
>>> at
>>>       
>>> a
>>> time. Now I faced the difficult task of learning to walk with a 
>>> prosthetic
>>> limb, a process complicated by an old back injury. The slightest activity
>>> sent scalding "phantom" pain into my nonexistent foot. As if that weren't
>>> enough, chemotherapy had robbed me of my hair and my strength. A wide
>>> range
>>> of emotions drained my remaining energy: fear, anger and grief, topped 
>>> off
>>> by a huge dollop of self-pity. Worst, though, I was unable to care for my
>>> father who had Alzheimer's disease. I had no choice but to place him in a
>>> nursing facility and leave with a load of guilt.
>>>
>>> When faced with overwhelming problems, we often escape by focusing on
>>> minor
>>> ones.
>>>
>>> People are funny in that way. In this instance, I fretted over the loss 
>>> of
>>> my nursing career and the income it provided. Thankfully, my husband
>>> handled
>>> the finances. Every time the huge bills arrived, we thanked God that our
>>> insurance was adequate. Nevertheless, I missed the rapport with my
>>> patients
>>> and my colleagues. I'd always enjoyed the teaching aspect of nursing and
>>> loved seeing the glow of relief when a patient was able to understand his
>>> or
>>> her illness. It was such fun when the couples in my childbirth classes
>>> proudly showed me their new babies, gushing, "Shirley, it happened just
>>> like
>>> you said it would."
>>>
>>> How I longed to believe I would someday return to nursing. The yearning
>>> left
>>> me feeling ashamed of my selfishness.
>>>
>>> I argued, first with myself, then with God. There were so many reasons 
>>> for
>>> gratitude.
>>>
>>> Countless people had prayed for me. I was still alive, still a child of
>>> God,
>>> a wife, a mother and a grandmother. I tried to keep a sense of 
>>> perspective
>>> by telling myself that nursing was only a career; it wasn't my identity.
>>> "But, Lord, you led me into nursing and gave me a love for it. It's my
>>> calling, and I feel the loss deeply. Why have you taken it from me?"
>>>
>>> I paid scant attention to the aide's words as I watched an elderly stroke
>>> victim attempting to operate a can opener. Nearby, a middle-aged man
>>> recovering from knee surgery drooped in despair. Across the room, a
>>> handsome
>>> airline pilot practiced walking again, following a severe spinal-cord
>>> injury. His cheerfulness puzzled me. I wondered what determined a
>>>       
>> patient's
>>     
>>> response to loss. What spurred some on when others were easily defeated?
>>> Was
>>> it merely an inborn character trait, like a strong personality or a
>>> deep-seated tenacity? Was it faith? Whatever it was, I wanted it myself.
>>>
>>> I'd like to think I fashioned a prayer that touched God's heart. But in
>>> truth, I muddled through a jumble of emotions and came up with nothing 
>>> but
>>>       
>>> a
>>> scrambled plea that meant, "Lord, I need help." I expected no reply.
>>>
>>> The aide, still valiantly trying to cheer me up, said, "I understand you
>>> used to be a nurse."
>>>
>>> A fresh load of anger welled up inside my chest. Used to be? I felt like
>>> asking her what she thought I was now. Before my mind could form a
>>> sarcastic
>>> response, words came from my mouth. "Yes, I am a nurse." Somehow I felt
>>> different, stronger, but I wasn't sure why.
>>>
>>> Later, still feeling insulted, I mentally conducted a one-sided quarrel
>>> with
>>> the aide who had reminded me of who I "used to be." Wait a minute. I'm
>>> everything I've ever been. I have one less leg, but I still have my brain
>>> and my heart. I'm not a has-been! God doesn't have any has-beens.
>>>
>>> I carried that thought in my head until the day a familiar scripture came
>>> to
>>> mind. I located it in my Bible concordance, then turned to Acts 17:28 and
>>> read aloud. "In him we live, and move, and have our being." Three words
>>> stood out from the rest: "live," "move" and "have." It didn't say that we
>>> had our being; we have it. My life isn't in past tense. I still am. I am!
>>>
>>> No sudden or dramatic change occurred, but gradually that passage
>>> influenced
>>> my attitude. It fanned a tiny ember of faith that lay buried under my
>>> negative emotions. Over a period of months, that faith grew to the flame
>>> it
>>> had once been. I gained strength, and with it a sense of my own 
>>> potential.
>>>
>>> A year and a half after my surgery, I returned to the hospital where I 
>>> had
>>> worked for eighteen years. Physically unable to resume my previous role, 
>>> I
>>> became the manager of the hospital's new home-health agency. Though I
>>> could
>>> work at my own pace, I found that making home visits was painful and
>>> difficult. In our rural area, many homes have no sidewalks or handrails 
>>> at
>>> the steep doorsteps. Carrying a heavy bag while walking with a prosthetic
>>> leg was not easy, even with a cane. Once inside, I struggled to keep my
>>> balance as I bent over low beds to perform sterile procedures. And I 
>>> loved
>>> it.
>>>
>>> Though nothing lessened the joy of being a nurse again, I often doubted
>>> whether I could continue this work while we waited for the census to grow
>>> enough to hire more staff. But the growth was rapid and steady. Soon I
>>> hired
>>> other nurses to visit the patients while I managed the office. Once 
>>> again,
>>>       
>>> I
>>> was teaching patients, this time by phone. Friendships developed between
>>> us,
>>> though many of us never met in person. The nurses, aides and therapists
>>> formed a great team, and when I retired, the agency was thriving.
>>>
>>> At my retirement party, a doctor and colleague of many years announced,
>>>       
>> "I'm
>>     
>>> astonished at Shirley's accomplishment in this community." I'm sure he
>>> knows, as I do, that God had a hand in making the agency the blessing it
>>> is
>>> to this day. Isn't it strange how God uses the things we focus on, 
>>> rightly
>>> or wrongly, to get our attention? In my case, he used my anger and my 
>>> love
>>> of nursing to draw me closer to him. Now, when I hear Neil Diamond sing
>>> that
>>> song titled, "I Am. I Said," I smile inside. It was God who brought me
>>> from
>>> "I Was," to "I Am." Who but he could know the value of one little word?
>>>
>>>       
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