[stylist] Vietnam Memorial: Teh Wall rewrite

Wed Nov 2 11:37:48 UTC 2011

Thanks Robert. One thing I like just as much as writing is re-writing 
:). It is sort of a word game, see where you can take three words and 
make one, or a "tell me" statement and make is "show me". Fun fun fun.

Brad

On 11/1/2011  09:54 PM Robert Leslie Newman said...
>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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Brad Dunse

"You become that to which you are most exposed." --Unknown

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