[stylist] Feedback request please

Brad Dunse' lists at braddunsemusic.com
Sun Oct 30 18:58:37 UTC 2011 

Thanks Robert. I'll use your fine tooth comb to 
brush it up a bit too :). Good stuff.

Brad


On 10/30/2011  12:53 PM Robert Leslie Newman said...
>Brad Super good song! (That was to be my war. 
>But missed it by going blind in 1964 at age 15.) 
>And in regard to your request for feedback on 
>the writing: Here is the text of one of my 
>"reader/writer/editor" warning-flags- in that 
>first sentence "Too much detail. And does not 
>start off with the focus on the best point." 
>(too many of us in the beginning stages of 
>learning this writing craft think that detail, 
>detail is what is needed for clarity and what 
>--- mood? We tend to bog down the flow and bore 
>the reader. And here is another small 
>warning-flag- "...straps and their buckles..." 
>Like- who's buckles would they be? and 
>"...fingers on both hands re-gripping their..." 
>Like- where else are fingers found? And I wonder 
>if you needed to say "...'both shoulders & both 
>hands.? Shoulders and/or hands sure can be 
>plural! Anyway, good event and a showcase of 
>your talent as a song writer, singer and 
>developing writer of prose. 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-----Original Message----- From: 
>stylist-bounces at nfbnet.org 
>[mailto:stylist-bounces at nfbnet.org] On Behalf Of 
>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 humidity­th­they said 
>it would be like this­; and the mercury >was 
>meant to reach into the 90̢۪s today. Under the 
>coveover 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 kknew 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 
>wasn̢۪t because I  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 didn̢۪t know it at 18-years 
>old), >there waswas 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 1960̢۪s protest 
>style, only we weren̢n̢۪t >protesting, we 
>were joining the proclamation an 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.â€Â The folks that put on >the 
>compilapilation 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 
>don̢۪t you play your song for 
>these >e >gentlemen?â€Â I will tell you, 
>I̢۪ve played ford 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 we̢۪d written for 
>them and >their buddiddies; 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 haven̢۪t changed a bi bit >Still all of 
>twenty-one That̢۪s the thing aboutout us 
>spirits We̢۪re >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 
>don̢۪t think one strand of my hair laid 
>flatlat 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 60̢۪s style, pattinging >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 >it̢۪s only 
>a shame te that the song had to be written at 
>all. That was >one of the, if not the, most 
>nervous experience I̢۪d ever er had 
>playing >for anyone. Prior to “The 
>Wallâ€Â‚¬Â 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? I̢۪d went back up on the 
>Nationalnal 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 
, 
>ââ“police >ce action.â€Â Reading the 
>entries was nenearly an addiction for me, 
>I >couldn̢۪t help myselfelf. 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 
>I̢۪d been drawn to write such a  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 coould 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.bradddunsemusic.com/music-45.htm 
>l>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.faceboo 
>k.com/braddunse >http://www.twitter.com/braddunse 
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></x-flowed> Brad Dunse "This world is but a 
>canvas to our imaginations." --Unknown 
>http://www.braddunsemusic.com 
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Brad Dunse

"Tell me, and I'll forget. Show me, and I'll 
remember. Involve me, and I'll learn." --Unknown

http://www.braddunsemusic.com

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