A few pages from The Threshold, volume one, Chapter 7: “Optimism Found” page 107-109
Upstate New York
By 1979, I stopped asking the doctor how long it would take before I would get better. After five years of writing through my recovery from the concussion, I was past realizing the effects of the damage. I was me.
Confidently I read the American Songwriter magazine and thought of someday finding musicians who could put music to my words. I began to consider ways to sell my lyrics or potential songs and had thoughts of searching out the music industry.
When some local friends started up a band, my imagination soared. I was asked to be the light man for the band on a handful of occasions. The yellow window van I drove was used to haul band equipment. Once again I identified with a different group of individuals. Hanging out with so-called artists, I felt the association to be more than gratifying.
Again, I got more confidence being off the mass treadmill of normal and on my own artist treadmill. I built a wide bunk bed in the yellow van with secure locks to hide stuff. With all the windows, it was dubbed the Canary Cage.
At a bar during the Lake George Winter Festival, I was christened into the band as lucky number seven by Sam, the lead singer. His beer bottle slipped out of his hand as I was being toasted. We all watched it drop, and the bottle bottom landed upright, flatly hitting the floor. The ejecting fountain of foam shot six feet high into the clinking bottles, signifying the induction.
I was toasted as the electric light man. Not being on stage, I stood with the light boards and spotlight among the crowd. Pushing levers controlling the lights, I changed the moods to fit the music.
Electric Light Man
He don’t sing or play guitar, By no means a rock-and-roll star,
Works with the band, drinks all night, Creates moods with electric lights.
He listens how lyrics tell time, Paints a picture using rhyme,
Flips a switch, drinks more wine, Adds more color with every line.
Electric Light Man now with a country band, Bunch of good boys having fun.
Electric Light Man let love slip out of hand, Hardest thing he’s ever done.
Hear the story, how it’s told, He misses her heart of gold.
See it unfold, amber red, When he left her, the words he said.
Sometimes when they play his song, Starts out right, ends up wrong,
He shows it with shades of blue, Lets it fade with thoughts of two.
Electric Light Man now with a country band, Bunch of good boys having fun.
Electric Light Man let love slip out of hand, Hardest thing he’s ever done.
Times are happy more than sad. Life is good when life is bad.
Puzzles of love, one of a kind, Feelings don’t fit, time unwinds.
Colors of love, which one’s best, Love’s not easy to invest.
Waiting now, hoping time, Paints love’s picture using rhyme.
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Another ten years would pass and traveling from New York to California. After living just enough life, after all the ways I went up to thirty six years old, then God’s grace came.
Trusting God now and going forward is aided by knowing He was always in control, with love and His purpose.
Proverbs 16:9 A man’s heart plans his way, But the LORD directs his steps.
