The title and text for Blue Haven came from a eulogy I wrote for my Uncle Walter. I loved him. To this day I think of him often, his quiet reserve and how he passed on so many life skills that have stayed with me throughout my own journey. His passing was difficult, yet I see him everywhere with gentle reminders keeping me close to his memory.
I thought Blue Haven would be a perfect segue into this week’s prose titled Uncle Walt.
Joy Brooks - Vocals/Harmonies/Percussion
Fredrick Brooks - Acoustic Guitar
Jeff Brackett - Acoustic Guitar
Alex Paris - Bass
Mark Congram - Drums
Produced by Paul LaChappelle, Fredrick Brooks and Jeff Brackett
Recorded and mastered at Quest Recording
<Click here to listen to Blue Haven>
BLUE HAVEN
I feel the wind of change Elliot
It’s comforting we no longer make believe
For here you stand on the crest of survival
Now the sun lays deep - this landscape breathes
Yet no longer do you speak - no longer is there fear
The battle line draws near
And there is discontent within the answer
Chorus
So simply move away you’re not alone in this
Each refugee will have his day
Take the silence of the Blue Haven
Take it with you Elliot - and run away
Not so long ago - so far away
You bent hard in shelter against those northern days
Now you are the river and time is on your side
Chorus
I feel the seed of contentment for blue is the sky
You’re each snowflake in winter the sparkle in ice
An eternity is waiting, laughing, and the stars are alive
Chorus
©Fredrick Brooks - 1997
Uncle Walter and Auntie Mae Elliot
Uncle Walt
I can still see Uncle Walt at dawn, his wellingtons glistening with dew, his back bent in the garden and always the smudge smoke weaving through the cedars that lined his Blue Haven. This was a signature morning for Walt.
Uncle Walter taught me for the most part by example, with patience and few words. “This is how you strip bark from trees, split firewood, how to use a Swede saw.“ Learn the effortless technique… “Don’t push – don’t pull.”
He taught me how to use a crosscut saw in tandem, “Feel the rhythm,” how to use a double-headed axe, how to finger black cotton line in the dark and clean fish, wasting nothing.
©Fredrick Brooks