[stylist] Vietnam Memorial: Teh Wall rewrite

Wed Nov 2 02:54:05 UTC 2011

Brad

A good rewrite! Better, dude!

-----Original Message-----
From: stylist-bounces at nfbnet.org [mailto:stylist-bounces at nfbnet.org] On
Behalf Of Brad Dunse'
Sent: Tuesday, November 01, 2011 9:20 PM
To: Writer's Division Mailing List
Subject: [stylist] Vietnam Memorial: Teh Wall rewrite

In case anyone is interested in the re-rite, I took the advice of removing
some redundancy, some extraneous detail maybe???  many of the I's and me's,
which I love that process in re-writing as it always brings more forward
movement and better flow,  besides I know a national writer with, dare I say
what many know, an ego the size of Texas that fills his newsletters with
them and it bugs the snot out of me :). At any rate, here it is for what
it's worth.

Non-fiction, war song related,  G rated piece.

Vietnam Memorial Wall

Canvas bags draping slumped shoulders, buckles digging into tired muscles,
nervous fingers losing their sweaty grip every tenth step, I huffed my gear
through the crowds of soldiers. 
Spotting a slightly wooded area to escape the baking sun, the bags almost
magnetically pulled themselves towards cover; reaching it they slid off the
shoulders with a sigh through puffed cheeks.

Rubbing the burn from sore neck muscles, stretching out the back, and taking
in the action all around; I wondered what the day might look like in
hindsight, and which one of the souls out there might be a new found friend
by day's end.

A bit nervous of what to expect amid the battle experienced soldiers out
there, wonderment gave way to doubt as to whether the ability to even
identify with what they have seen allows for friendship.

Finally, two gents approached asking if I was who I was. Confirming it with
handshakes, we began chatting as bags were opened and gear pulled out. 
Opening the case and sitting on a stool, I began to fiddle around on my
guitar.

No, we weren't killing time prior to reporting for duty in a US military
base in Vietnam, we arrived at the State Capitol grounds in St. Paul,
Minnesota; at a kickoff event the governor of Minnesota declared as Vietnam
Day.

So why was I there? It wasn't for doing a tour of duty in Vietnam; I was
born about a decade and a half too late for that. Besides age being a
factor, though I probably didn't know it at 18-years old, there was a
hereditary disease slowly scattering throughout my retinas affecting
peripheral and night vision; and very likely it would have pulled a 4F
medical discharge anyway. 
If that wouldn't have prevented being shipped out, eventually from mere
survival of the fittest, some Asian would have shipped me back in a box,
carving my name in the Memorial Wall with the business end of his weapon.

I was at the Vietnam Day event by invitation from a grass roots effort, to
come and play some music. Sort of a 1960's protest style thing, only we
weren't protesting, we were joining the proclamation and recognition of the
brave men and women who served in Vietnam.

A compilation CD of Vietnam songs had recently been released, designed to
help heal emotional wounds and not let the world forget what suffering went
on back then; and a song I co-wrote with two other writers (Mitch Townley
and Judy Gorman King), was picked as the featured song for the CD. The song
is entitled, "The Wall."

Once the gear was set up out on the large grounds of the Capitol, we started
playing. We played for children, fellow musicians, curious event attendees,
friends and families of soldiers who stopped to listen, and then they came.

Mike, one of the gentlemen who gave the invite, rounded the corner with a
group of Viet Vets. As they approached, battle earned metals clinked on
silver haired gents as they jokingly milled about asking if I knew any Hank
Williams; and then Mike said, "Brad, why don't you play your song for these
gentlemen?"

I will tell you, having played for many people at all kinds of gigs
throughout the years, nerves had never been tested in this way before.
Staring out with what vision was musterable, looking at this group of
amazing souls standing before me who-all but a handful of decades ago were
scared, brave young men watching their buddies tore apart right next to them
in fox holes, on the battle field, and in transport jeeps-facing unknown
emotional battles of uncertainty whether the local people there approaching
them, men, women or children all equal in ability; were allies of safety, or
enemies about to cut them down. 
Miraculously, here they were standing anxiously, staring at me expectantly,
wanting to hear the song that was written just for them; and me desperately
hoping we had gotten what they felt inside, right.

Swallowing hard and slow, raking a few strums on the guitar to get
emotionally anchored, I started to sing:

When you were searching for my name today

I saw you standing there

Man you look different

With that silver in your hair

Me, I haven't changed a bit

Still all of twenty-one

That's the thing about us spirits

We're forever young

At the wall ., here at the wall

Mid-way through the song with quivering lips and 
doubts I could even make it all the way through 
without choking up, I began to feel a reverence 
for these men stronger than ever before; men who 
endured not only a very different war out on the 
battlefield and in the jungle, but also the 
unexpected one of patriotic betrayal soon after 
the planes wheels screeched the tarmac back home.

I don't think one strand of hair laid flat the 
entire length of the song but I did make it 
through to the end. When I finished, a nervous 
silence loomed for a second or two; wondering to 
myself, "Brad? What did you just do? You had 
better not offended them assuming you know what 
they feel inside." The silence stood for a few 
seconds more and I was immediately swallowed up 
with soldiers shaking my hand 60's style, giving 
pats on the back, and profusely giving thanks for 
writing the song. We snapped a quick picture with 
them, all the while me thanking them for their 
service, and that it was only a shame that the 
song had need to be written in the first place. 
That was one of the, if not the, most special experiences I'd ever had
playing.

Prior to "The Wall" being written, I'd thought 
pretty heavy on writing a song about Vietnam. 
Considering it further, it seemed an obvious 
decision to write one dealing with the wall, 
maybe the Traveling Wall? Going back up on the 
National Memorial website, I spent hours up there 
reading profile entries that folks left for their 
loved ones. There were old goodbyes and present 
tense conversations: words from old high school 
buddies, family members keeping up a vigil, 
neighborhood friends who popped in after thinking 
about them, school teachers who wrote shortly 
after the news, and of course those uniquely 
bonded souls who served with them in the war .; excuse me ., "police
action."

Reading the entries was addictive, and more 
gripping than a Friday night suspense flick. 
Hopping up on the site before dinner, I didn't 
pull away from the computer until the morning sun 
popped up. After spending the night reading 
droves of profiles of 21-year olds who never came 
back, the desire to write a song about Vietnam 
and the wall was there now more than ever.

As strong a desire it was to write a Vietnam wall 
song, I hadn't told anyone of the plan. The goal 
was to have a solo write, so the idea never left 
the writing room. After a week and a half of 
knocking around some ideas and not really 
settling on any particular idea, an email came 
through from a songwriting buddy of mine. He said 
he ran into a poet at a veteran's event in 
Nashville, got permission to use the poem as 
foundation for a lyric, and wanted to know if I wanted in on the song.

Stunned at the timing of this opportunity, I 
naturally agreed. A few days later we came out 
with our song entitled, "The Wall".

I often wonder, after nearly two weeks of milling 
it around, surfing the web, staying up all night 
mesmerized by what I was reading, trying to pour 
my soul into the boots of those kids and their 
surviving families, not saying anything to anyone 
about my desire to write such a song about the 
Vietnam Wall, and then out of the blue to be 
approached with this opportunity? -I don't 
know-is that just a simple coincidence? Or could 
there have been more to it than that?

The Wall has been played at a variety of places 
ranging from major commercial country radio, to 
web stations, to live performances at local 
memorial ceremonies, to my own gigs; and I am 
very humbled it will be performed by a youth band 
raising brows up and down the east coast, as they 
play it as part of their invitation to perform at 
the National Memorial event in Washington DC this Veterans Day on November
11.

Hear the song in it's entirety and read the 
lyrics at: 
<http://www.braddunsemusic.com/music-45.html>http://www.braddunsemusic.com/m
usic-45.html

Brad Dunse

"Instead of waiting out the storm, learn to dance in the rain." --Unknown

http://www.braddunsemusic.com

http://www.facebook.com/braddunse

http://www.twitter.com/braddunse
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