[stylist] Feedback request please

Brenda bjnite at windstream.net
Sun Oct 30 15:48:50 UTC 2011 

Hi Brad
I loved your song!  I have always been angry/saddened at the way the 
returning vietnam Veterans were treated.  I'm glad you were able to pay 
tribute to them.

As for the introduction you wrote, I loved The description, and your 
contrasts drew me in.  Sometimes I think you could consolidate things a 
little and say the same thing with less words.  The paragraph about your 
writing pal is the example I will use.  My suggested rewrite is below.  
Brenda...see below


About a week and a half from that day, I was surprised to read an email 
from my writing pal asking me if I wanted to co-write a song about the 
Vietnam Wall and the soldiers.I had not told anyone I'd been drawn to 
write such a song, other than maybe my wife, and now I was reading this 
request from him.



On 10/29/2011 7:30 PM, Brad Dunse' wrote:
> 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, with 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 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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