[stylist] Feedback request please

Barbara Hammel poetlori8 at msn.com
Sun Oct 30 12:48:58 UTC 2011 

Thanks, Brad.  That time it worked.  That is a beautiful song!
But, wow!  If I could sort out and write down all the mixed emotions.  I'm 
too young for Vietnam and it was too recent to be taught about in Social 
Studies classes but I have two uncles that served--my father's sight kept 
him out, too (nystagmus did it, I'll bet)--and one who talk about it and the 
other was wounded and wouldn't.  I have never sat and talked to the one who 
talks but I've read enough things to feel such animosity toward those who 
treated the soldiers so poorly when they came home.  You can hate a war, but 
when your government sends folks to fight for what it thinks are causes to 
fight, how can you hate those doing what they were told.
It seems like songwriters get this.  Current wars will have just as much 
conflicting history one day and yet I've not heard a negative song.
Thank you for sharing this beautiful thought put to music.
Barbara




Let every nation know whether it wishes us well or ill, that we shall pay 
any price, bear any burden, meet any hardship, support any friend, oppose 
any foe, in order to assure the survival and the success of liberty.--John 
F. Kennedy
-----Original Message----- 
From: Brad Dunse'
Sent: Saturday, October 29, 2011 10:24 PM
To: Writer's Division Mailing List
Subject: Re: [stylist] Feedback request please

Barbara,

Try either
<http://www.braddunsemusic.com/music-45.html>clicking
this link or going to: http://www.braddunsemusic.com/music-45.html

And then scroll down to find the link to play the MP3 in either hi fi or low 
fi

Thanks.

Brad


On 10/29/2011  08:41 PM Barbara Hammel said...
>I liked it.  I couldn't access the links, though.  I want to hear that 
>song. Barbara Let every nation know whether it wishes us well or ill, that 
>we shall pay any price, bear any burden, meet any hardship, support any 
>friend, oppose any foe, in order to assure the survival and the success of 
>liberty.--John F. Kennedy -----Original Message----- From: Brad Dunse' 
>Sent: Saturday, October 29, 2011 6:30 PM To: Writer's Division Mailing List 
>Subject: [stylist] Feedback request please Feedback of any willing sort is 
>welcome :). Pasted from Word so for me carriage returns "look" extra but I 
>don't think they  actually appear as such visually, not sure though. 
>Vietnam Memorial Wall With gear hanging over both shoulders, canvas 
>pack-straps and their buckles digging in my sweat-drenched skin, nervous 
>fingers on both hands re-gripping their assigned provisions every ten 
>steps, I huffed my way through the crowds of uniformed soldiers. Picking my 
>way across the grounds into a slightly wooded area, I finally was able to 
>drop my bags with a deep sigh, flex my shoulders, and stretch my back a 
>bit. The tree allowed a shady escape from the baking sun. Mid-morning temps 
>were already in the 80’s with matching humidity­they said it would be 
>like this­; and the mercury was meant to reach into the 90’s today. 
>Under the cover of shade, I took in the action around me; and in amazement, 
>I began to wonder what the day might look like in hindsight. A bit nervous 
>of what to expect, I mean the sight of battle experienced Vietnam soldiers 
>walking about, and my taking part in something like this …, I knew I would 
>have a new friend  or two by days end. Looking about, I wondered which one 
>of the many souls out there would become my new friend. Finally, two gents 
>approached asking if I was who I was. Once I affirmed it, we shook hands, 
>chatted a minute, and opened up our packs. I sat down on a stool, opened up 
>a case, and started fiddling around with my guitar a bit. No, I wasn’t in 
>a base camp located in Vietnam, I was on the State Capitol grounds in St. 
>Paul, Minnesota; at a kickoff event for what the governor of Minnesota 
>declared as Vietnam Day. So why was I there? It wasn’t because I served a 
>tour in Vietnam, I was born about a decade and a half too late for that. 
>Besides my age (though I probably didn’t know it at 18-years old), there 
>was a hereditary disease slowly scattering throughout my retinas affecting 
>my peripheral and night vision which likely would have sent me back 4F, 
>preventing me from serving in the military. If that would have not stopped 
>my being shipped out, eventually from mere survival of the fittest, some 
>Asian would have carved my name in the Memorial Wall with the business end 
>of his weapon. So just exactly what was I doing there at Vietnam Day? I was 
>invited by a grass roots effort to come and play some music, sort of 
>1960’s protest style, 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 designed to help heal emotional 
>wounds, and not let the world forget what suffering went on back then was 
>released, and a song I co-wrote was picked as the featured song for the CD. 
>The song I wrote with two other writers is called “The Wall.” The folks 
>that put on the compilation project wanted me to come out and play some 
>music, and of course play the featured song on the CD. So we set up the 
>small gear out on the large grounds of the celebration and started playing 
>tunes. We played for children, fellow musicians, curious event attendees, 
>friends and families of soldiers who stopped to listen, and then they came. 
>One of the gentlemen who invited me rounded the corner with a group of Viet 
>Vets, metals they earned clinking as they milled about and then he said, 
>“Brad, why don’t you play your song for these gentlemen?” I will tell 
>you, I’ve played for many people at my gigs, but never had I been this 
>nervous. I stared out with what vision I could muster, and saw these 
>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 riding in jeeps they drove; 
>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. But here they were, 
>standing anxiously, staring at me, wanting to hear the song we’d written 
>for them and their buddies; and me desperately hoping we had gotten what 
>they felt inside, right. I swallowed hard and slow, strummed a few strums 
>on my guitar to anchor myself a bit, and 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, withh a quivering lip 
>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 battle out on the field and in the 
>jungle, but also that unexpected one of betrayal soon after the planes 
>wheels screeched the tarmac of home. I don’t think one strand of my hair 
>laid flat the entire length of the song, but I did make it through to the 
>end. When finished, I was immediately swarmed with soldiers shaking my hand 
>60’s style, patting me on the back and profusely thanking me for writing 
>the song. All the while it was me declaring indeed it was I who owe them 
>thanks, and it’s only a shame that the song had to be written at all. 
>That was one of the, if not the, most nervous experience I’d ever had 
>playing for anyone. Prior to “The Wall” being written, I had been 
>thinking pretty heavy on writing a song about Vietnam. Considering it, I 
>had decided what better topic to write on than the wall, maybe the 
>Traveling Wall? I’d went back up on the National Memorial website, and 
>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 ce 
>action.” Reading the entries was nearly an addiction for me, I couldn’t 
>help myself. I was up on their site before dinner time, and finally hunger 
>coupled with drooping eyes pulled me off when the sun popped up the next 
>morning. After spending the night reading droves of profiles of 21-year 
>olds who never came back, I so much wanted to write a song about Vietnam 
>and the wall now more than ever. About a week and a half from that day, 
>having knocked around some ideas for a song, I open up my email and see a 
>message from my writing pal. Unbeknown to him, or anyone really as I had 
>not told anyone I’d been drawn to write such a song, other than maybe my 
>wife, I opened up a message from him wanting to know if I want in on a song 
>about the Vietnam Wall and the soldiers. Naturally I was surprised and said 
>sure and a few days later we had what is the current version of 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, putting myself in 
>the shoes 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 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 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. <http://www.braddunsemusic.com/music-45.html>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 "The naive believes everything, But the sensible man considers 
>his steps." --Proverbs http://www.braddunsemusic.com 
>http://www.facebook.com/braddunse http://www.twitter.com/braddunse 
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Brad Dunse

"This world is but a canvas to our imaginations." --Unknown

http://www.braddunsemusic.com

http://www.facebook.com/braddunse

http://www.twitter.com/braddunse
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