the songs of solo – Dick Anderson

A reader recently wrote me to say, “I jumped to your epilogue out of curiosity and found a magnificent poem, ‘A Matter of Time.’ Are these lyrics to a song as well as a poem? You cited AnderSongs 2020 at the end of the poem.”

Yes, “A Matter of Time” is a song I wrote long before I embarked on my solo canoe trips. Upon completing my memoir, I realized that I had, in fact, captured the essence of the book in this song, and thus I printed the lyrics as an epilogue to the book.

Here is the actual song, as recorded in the mid 1980s at the Wally Cleaver Studios in Fredericksburg, VA with a group of talented musicians: Buddy Charleton (long-time steel guitarist with Ernest Tubb’s Texas Troubadours), steel guitar; Jonas Taub, lead guitar and vocals; Peter Bonta, keyboards; and myself playing rhythm guitar and singing the lead vocal.

Matter of Time © Dick Anderson

Solo’s Preface begins with lyrics from “Ghosts”, which are again cited later in the story. “Ghosts” was also written in the 1980s. I’ve yet to bring it to the studio, but, if you’ll forgive the quality and the vocals, below is a home-recorded version of the entire song.

Ghosts © Dick Anderson

One final song is excerpted in Chapter 4 of Solo, that being “Waiting for Daytime to End.” This spoken story-song was written in honor of my Grandpa Miller, who patiently taught me about chores, farm life, and life in general. Again, you’ll have to forgive the quality of this recording, as it is done at home with my meager equipment.

“Waiting for Daytime to End” Music and Lyrics by Dick Anderson Spoken introduction: When I was a boy, I spent my summer days just outside Cedar Falls, Iowa, on Grandpa Miller’s farm. And I kept myself busy feedin’ the chickens, an’ gatherin’ egss, an’ bringing in the cows every evening with Poochie, Grandpa’s dog. Yeah, I can still feel the crunch of shelled corn under my feet in the corncrib. Now, I wasn’t supposed to play there— but I did! (Music begins): And I remember climbin’ on the skeletons of old iron-wheeled machinery that had once been pulled by horses or oxen— but had long since been abandoned to the edges of the fields. On that farm I learned to wake up with the sun! And later in the afternoon you could pretty much depend on a thunderstorm, and everybody’d run for the trees and wait it out. And before long the sun would elbow its way back through the clouds and steam the fields. But I’d search the skies, because I wanted to be the first one to see that rainbow arc a’climbin’ across the heavens and settin’ down somewhere just beyond the next farm. One of those times I remember my grandpa’s hand settlin’ on my shoulder and him askin’ me, “What’s on your mind, my boy?” He always called me, “my boy,,” and the way he said it, made me feel as if I really was. And to this day, I can exactly remember my reply: Chorus: “I was wonderin’ just where all the rainbows begin, and where the the sun sets again, after bein’ where he’s been. And where the moon and the stars plan the night we’ll be seein’, while they’re waiting for daytime to end.” Spoken: Well, those summer days passed by all too quickly. And I grew up at a time when the country was growin’ up too (maybe too fast for its britches). The glare of the city was attractin’ folks like bugs around a porch light. I know I felt kind’a sheepish sayin’ goodbye to Grandpa Miller and traipsin’ off to college. ‘Cause somehow, I knew my questions had started here, and I kind’a thought that my answers might be here as well. But grandpa, he just laughed and called me “my boy” one last time, and said, Chorus: “I hope you find out where those rainbows begin, and where the the sun sets again, after bein’ where he’s been. And where the moon and the stars plan the night we’ll be seein’, while they’re waiting for daytime to end.” Spoken: I’m not sure I could’a left if I’d known back then how many years would pass before I’d next see Grandpa Miller. Or that he’d be lyin’ on his bed preparin’ to depart my world. Or that the strong man I’d once known could ever look so small and worn out, like one of his old ox-drawn plows a’rustin’ beside the pasture. But as I tip-toed in, I saw a kind of mischievous look of recognition in his eyes, and when I bent my ear to his lips, well he couldn’t sign it to me then as I’m singing it to you now, but he called me by name. And he told me that he just wanted to reassure me, Chorus: That he’d try to find out where those rainbows begin, and where the sun sets again, after bein’ where he’s been. And where the moon and the stars plan the night we’ll be seein’, while they’re waiting for daytime to end. Waiting for daytime to end. “Waiting for Daytime to End” Copyright © 1994 by Dick Anderson

Please respect the fact that all of these songs are copyrighted and are not here for downloading, but for your listening pleasure on this web page.

Take care, Dick