Down Cellar

(Dad and I in the Belfry, probably around 2003 or so.)

We never called it "downstairs", because it was the basement--it was "down cellar" to us.

My Dad has had his collection of historical files about Athol down in the basement since before I was born (as far as I know, anyway!), and always did his writing and research work down there. He's had all sorts of people--other fellow local historians, journalists, students, and so on--in to his basement office to share all kinds of local history. And after all these years, he's decided that eventually he'll be donating his work to the local library...fitting, considering that most of it came from there in the first place, in the form of newspapers, books, microfiches, and a lot of photocopying. Nearly all the information is on 3x5 index cards and filed by subject in multiple filing cabinets, filing boxes, and drawers. It's everything from minutiae to weird trivia to important events in the town's history. Just a few days ago he was awarded with Athol's Citizen of the Year award for all the historical work he's done for the town over all these years. It was well deserved, for all the work he's done.

So it seemed only fitting that, when I moved back home after five years in Boston, that in early 1996 I moved my PC down there and staked my claim near the cellar door as The Belfry. In effect, our basement became one big writing nook, with either of us at opposite ends of the room, listening to our own music (he to his Benny Goodman and other swing greats, and me to my alt.rock), writing for a few hours a day. Every now and again I'd ask for some reference material--he had some religious dictionaries that helped me when I was writing the trilogy--and he'd come over and ask how I was doing. This was a setup that lasted for close to nine years until I moved out in the spring of 2005.

We live on opposite ends of the country now, but I have to say that if anything, he taught me a lot about writing, and not just how to write (my entire family took part in that!)--he taught me about perseverance, determination, obsession, completeness, and impartiality. When we talk on the phone, he still asks me if I'm still writing, and I'm always happy to report that I still am.

Thanks, Dad! Happy Father's Day! :)

37R: Lift Your Heart Up (In Your Hands)

(A lyric written 13 October 1991 in the apartment I shared with L. in Boston, and finished sometime about 3:30 in the morning. Inspired by Robyn Hitchcock's
"Swirling" and a few other acoustic songs. Recorded later by the Flying Bohemians.)


My alarm clock wakes me up
It's 7.13 and the lights are on
I was dreaming of you in your black dress
You sang to me, your voice was calling
Tell me...oh your eyes have wandered
Tell me...oh I've been so far away
Say to me...can you lift your heart up
And say to me...is my life now in your hands?

Mary have you been away from me
Mary can you sing a song for me
Maybe I can steal you back to me
Mary have you seen your lover yet
Tell me...oh I can see you now
Tell me...oh but I can't touch you now
Say to me...can you lift your heart up
And say to me...is my life now in your hands?

Lovely day to walk alone and
Remember the days when I once had you
I said to you now, you needn't be sorry
For what you have done, now I can see you
Tell me...oh I'm so cold now
Tell me...oh I can't see how
Say to me...can you lift your heart up
And say to me...is my life now in your hands?

But can it be wrong if I can't love you
You're taking away what I can't grasp
Oh why should I play that game again
The one where I don't even bother to ask

Mary wakes up, she lays beside me
I tell her the lies that she once promised
She doesn't think that tomorrow will be grey again
Tell me...oh I can see everything
Tell me...oh I can see you smile
Say to me...can you lift your heart up
And say to me...is my life now in your hands?

This entry was originally posted at http://jonchaisson.dreamwidth.org/9569.html. Please comment there using OpenID.