Listening to “Come Sunday” on the eve of Martin Luther King Day

Tomorrow is Martin Luther King Day. In the wake of recent tweets and comments discrediting Senator John Lewis, one of the famous Big Six civil rights leaders, the day seems more poignant, more urgent, than it has in recent years.

Today, at First Unitarian Church of Victoria, Reverend Shana Lyngood delivered–and, I mean, delivered–a sermon on the mysterious power of music and its staggering ability to shatter us. To crack us open. To change us. To change society. Reverend Shana sang these lines from a song that, she says, shattered her. “Lord, please look down and see my people through.”

“Come Sunday” was written by Duke Ellington in the blistering heat of the civil rights era, in 1965, and his song bears the terrible weight of history as he–and his people–were living it. In writing the song, Ellington took his despair and transformed it into art. Into faith. Into hope. He saw the dark clouds. Yes. But, unlike many of us in these chaotic times, he saw them rolling by.

Take a moment to listen, really listen, to “Come Sunday”. I’ll wait.

There. What did you think? Or, better yet, what did you feel when you listened to Mahalia Jackson sing “Come Sunday”? For me, the song is now as inextricably linked with Martin Luther King Day as the admirable “I have a dream” speech.

I am not a theist and I am not an American, although I am married to one. Tomorrow, however, I’ll tell my kids about MLK. I’ll share with them some of the music of the civil rights movement. And, I’ll do whatever I can to burst the dark clouds that loom over us.



Courting rejection

It’s 2017. This year, I am courting rejection. 100 rejections to be exact. Join me as I tally up the cumulative number of poems, stories, essays and residency applications I submit this year. Then cheer me on as I watch the number of rejections rise to 100.

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Let the music play


I was born in the 70s. K-Tel Records–As Seen on TV–provided the soundtrack for my early years. Growing up, I wanted to be the person who produced those classic collections. Who could forget Heino? What about A Broken Heart for Every Guitar in Nashville or Certified Gold?

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