Ron Hynes lost his battle with cancer yesterday, but the St. John’s native and the “man of a thousand songs” will be remembered in this province as one of our best and most talented singer-songwriters.
I’ve loved Ron’s music ever since he performed as front man with the Wonderful Grand Band on a local early-80’s TV show. But when I saw him sing and play at the Fat Cat on George Street one night in the early nineties, I knew he would be an enduring musical storyteller and an artistic treasure.
Sonny’s Dream, his most famous song internationally, has been recorded by many artists such as Valdy and Emmy Lou Harris. Have a listen:
As much as I love that song, the following is perhaps my personal favourite. The lyrics alone, in my opinion, elevate its author Ron to the deserving title of our finest wordsmith and poet.
St. John’s Harbour
St. John’s Waltz
by Ron Hynes
Oh the harbour lights are gleaming
And the evening’s still and dark
And the seagulls are all dreaming
Seagull dreams on Amherst Rock
And the mist is slowly drifting
As the storefront lights go dim
And the moon is gently lifting
As the last ship’s coming in
All the sailors got a story
Some are true, some are false
But they’re always wrecked
and they’re up on the deck
Dancin’ the St. John’s Waltz
Fort Amherst (Amherst Rock) Jennifer’s Journal
Oh we’ve had out share of history
We’ve seen nations come and go
We’ve seen battles rage over land and stage
Four hundred years and more
For glory or for freedom
For country or for king
Or for money or fame but there are no names
On the graves where men lie sleeping
All the nine to fives survive the day
With a sigh and a dose of salts
And they’re parkin’ their cars and packin’ the bars
Dancin’ the St. John’s Waltz
Oh my heart is on the highway
And I’m sold on goin’ to sea
All the planes fill the skyway
The trains run swift and free
So leave the wayward free to wander
Leave the restless free to roam
If it’s rocks in the bay or it’s old cliche
You’ll find your way back home
So don’t question or inquire
What’s been gained, what’s been lost
In a world of romance don’t miss out on the chance
To be Dancin’ the St. John’s Waltz
My master and I are best buddiestime together we do love to shareI have proven my “dogged” affectionFor a cat, I am told, that is rareSo it gives me great pleasure to flaunt it,how I’ll follow behind my fine friend, stay with him as long as I’m needed, then……make a bed of his shorts at day’s end.
Nighty-Night!
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*Photo credits go to Paul Sautter Jr. – except for the last two 😉
“It came to him in rainbow dreams, blent with the wisdom of the sages, of spirit and of passion born; in words as lucent as the morn he prisoned it, and now it gleams a jewel shining through the ages.”
I can hardly believe it. It’s been nearly five years since my husband and I went through with our plan to trade in our old lives and move out of the city.
In August of 2010, we threw caution to the wind and put our home of ten years on the market. Paul kissed me goodbye, drove to his hometown, and began overseeing the gargantuan job of renovating his grandfather’s old two-storey in Bonavista North. When the sale of our house closed near the end of September, Maisie, Vivian and I joined him. We stayed nearby in a friend’s vacant summer home until the bulk of the work was completed.
During the first week of December that year, we finally had enough upgrades done to buy our new appliances, unpack the boxes, and begin to set up house.
Do I have any regrets? Not many. That first winter, I missed living close to my family, and I still wish I could see my children and grandchildren more often than I do. But other than that, I am happy to have relocated here to our home by the sea. Somehow, I don’t think I would have taken up writing the way I have if I’d stayed in the city, so taking this journey to fulfill my lifelong dream has certainly made it all worthwhile.
Besides that, Paul’s dream to return to his boyhood home has come true too. ❤
Looking back now, I think we can both vouch for the old saying: the best journey is the one that takes you home.
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Have you lived to see a dream come to fruition? Or are you working on one for the future?
When I took part in last month’s Daily Post Photo Challenge: Reward,I discovered blogger Karen Anderson, a photographer from Surrey, England.
Expressing My Vision – a Journey into Creativity and Beyond is the name of Karen’s blog. In her own words from her About page:
I am an amateur photography enthusiast who enjoys experimenting with different genres in my quest to find my style. I will turn my hand to anything. I do have a few images under licence with Getty Images, I also do photoshoots and wedding photography for family and friends, as well as any other photographs I am asked for. BUT I am not trying to make a living out of photography…I am in it for the love of the art and part of the fun for me is in sharing and learning more.”
Check out the link below to see Karen’s Reward post that caught my eye. In it, she shares photographs of a chance visit by two adorable robins, as well as a fitting poem by Thomas Hardy: The Robin– perfect for our neck of the woods, as we saw our first robin hopping around in the garden just yesterday.
I’m too tired from novel writing to come up with anything of my own this week, so I’m sharing a post from Journey Into Poetry. Christine is one of my favorite bloggers for the poems she writes.
Here is one I found especially moving. Love and miss you, Dad. x
Your whole life was wrapped around you
on that day,
propped up on a pillowy white cloud,
a few extra ones, cool, crisp
arranged in a special way,
a privilege for the dying.
How could your tiny fragile frame
have carried so much,
braved storms at sea,
ministered prayers from pulpit.
The swimming lessons you gave me;
you had the patience of Job.
And the turnip faces you carved
for Halloween, they were perfect;
(you would have cringed at pumpkins.)
But then you could do everything in my eyes;
you knew everything too.
I remember you trying to
show me how to use a slide rule;
I still haven’t a clue.
And there,
on a warm day, early May
in a special bed for the dying,
lay all of that,
your whole life in a cradle of time,
and it weighed next to nothing –
I have been following Simon Kindt for quite a while now, consistently inspired by his talent for creating poems full of imagery and emotion. In his own words:
I suppose I’m another one of those poorly ironed white collars that got halfway up the career ladder and realised it had left something behind. For me, that ‘left behind’ was writing which I returned to at the end of 2012 after a long time focused on other things.
The difficult thing about highlighting his blog is trying to single out one poem as an example of his work. I love them all!
My master and I are best buddies
time together we do love to share
I have proven my “dogged” affection
For a cat, I am told, that is rare
So it gives me great pleasure to flaunt it,
how I’ll follow behind my fine friend,
stay with him as long as I’m needed, then…
…make a bed of his shorts at day’s end.
Jennifer's Journal 