[stylist] Vietnam Memorial: Teh Wall rewrite

[Brenda]

I have always liked the content of this piece, but this one was a much 
easier read.
brenda

On 11/1/2011 10:19 PM, Brad Dunse' wrote:
> 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 who­all 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 
> jeeps­facing 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 know­is 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/music-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
> _______________________________________________
> Writers Division web site:
> http://www.nfb-writers-division.net 
> <http://www.nfb-writers-division.org/>
>
> stylist mailing list
> stylist at nfbnet.org
> http://nfbnet.org/mailman/listinfo/stylist_nfbnet.org
> To unsubscribe, change your list options or get your account info for 
> stylist:
> http://nfbnet.org/mailman/options/stylist_nfbnet.org/bjnite%40windstream.net 
>
>
>