In defence of Bobby Goldsboro. An interpretation...
The tree outside this house holds many memories. See how high
its arms reach. Up to the sky. But I remember when it was nothing more than a spindly
twig.
I had just come home from work and there my late wife was,
holding it in her hand. She had already dug a hole for it and when I saw the pathetic specimen in her hand I laughed.
“That thing will never grow babe!”
“Just you wait and see!” she said with fire in her eyes.
She shovelled the earth back into the hole and carefully
stomped it down so that the tree cutting would have the best possible chance of
survival.
The following winter I remember that snow came early,
blanketing the yard one cold November night. She put on her slippers and ran
outside to brush the snow from her little tree. Before coming back inside she
was laughing and threatened to throw a snowball at me as I stood in the
doorway. Then she almost slipped on her ass and I laughed till I cried.
She was always so young at heart and that is partly why I
loved her so much. Sometimes she could goof around and act dumb but at other
times she was wise and clever beyond her years.
She had always wanted a dog and two years ago I surprised
her with a puppy. Such a mischievous pooch. It kept me up most of Christmas
Eve. I wanted it to be a big surprise on Christmas morning. She was so happy.
It was love at first sight. She called him Jack.
She wore her heart on her sleeve and when watching
television there would often be tears in her eyes. Sometimes, when I came home
really late, she’d be wiping her eyes with a handkerchief after watching one of
those late night shows and she would be kind of embarrassed.
What I would give to get back to those days. I miss her so
much. I am trying to be strong, to live a good life and if I could speak to her
again I would simply say, “Honey – I miss you! And I would love to be with you
if only I could.”
I remember the time she crashed her car – an old Mustang
that we bought from her Uncle Jimmy for a
thousand bucks. It was wrecked. She came home imagining that I would be really
mad with her but I was just glad she was okay. I pretended to be mad but she
saw through me straight away and put her arms round my neck to hug me close. It’s
funny the little things like that that you remember.
A few months after that she became ill and visited her
doctor a couple of times. I came home from work early one afternoon and found
her crying inconsolably on the sofa. She had received a proper diagnosis and
told me that she only had a short time left. I could not believe it. It was
awful.
The following weeks passed by in a blur. She would sit by
the window looking out at her tree as spring flowers bloomed and robins sang.
It was later, in the early spring, that she would leave us.
Oh, how I miss you Honey and as I
said before I am trying to be good, wishing that I could still be with you, if
only I could.
She was slipping away in front of
me but the bills needed paying and she encouraged me to keep on working saying,
“I’ll be alright darling”. She would sit in her armchair looking out at the
yard and on her last day I came home to find her there but she had passed away
that afternoon – all on her own. The angels came to take her away and now all
that I have left is memories. At night I wake up calling her name.
For me life is now just an empty
stage where Honey once lived and Honey once played. This house is where our
love grew. Out in the yard a small cloud passes overhead raining gently on the
flower bed that Honey loved so much.
And look my friend. Look at the big tree that Honey planted long ago. Once it wasn’t big - it was little more than a twig that she held gently in her hand. She got mad when I laughed at her, joking that it would never grow. But she was right and I was wrong. As I say, the first day that she planted it it was just a twig and look at it now.
"Honey" never appealed to me although I thought Bobby had the same sweet storytelling in his voice and cadence as Frank Sinatra. MacArthur's
ReplyDeletePark, on the other hand, was a tune that I didn't think meant much but was lovely and I still like hearing it today. I wondered why Harris didn't sing many more tunes?
He was probably too busy drinking and making films.
DeleteI don‘t think I know the song (haven‘t clicked on the video yet) but the story is very touching.
ReplyDeletePlease listen to it Meike. Is it really such a terrible song?
Delete...er...yes...
DeleteI admit that I did love that song, but it always made me cry.
ReplyDeleteThat is because you are soft-hearted my three-legged friend.
DeleteHow did that song make it to number one in America? His other hit: Summer - The First Time was much better.
ReplyDeleteTo appreciate "Honey" you have to be a soppy romantic like me and not a hard-nosed prog rock fan like you Northsider.
DeleteI like brass bands and folk music too. There's a lot of folk who made it who aren't very good. Rod Stewart and Adele for example.
ReplyDeleteThat last sentence is controversial but like a shy rainbow trout I am not taking the bait.
DeleteOn this issue we part ways. There are some terrible songs that I do love but this is not one of them.
ReplyDeleteI hope that I have not sunk in your estimation like a bathysphere with a broken cable.
DeleteNo way. More like a jar of treacle (US: molasses) off a kitchen shelf.
DeleteNah. It's our differences that make life interesting.
It was a very sad song but very meaningful . It was popular for a long time.
ReplyDeleteYou are a man with excellent musical taste Senor Red.
DeleteShirley never forgot the day her husband was late back from walking. "Where have you been?" she had asked. "I've been on Ilkley Moor", he replied. "I took this photograph of a cow and calf." "But you forgot the hat I knitted you," she fussed, "You'll catch your death of cold." Then she noticed something odd about the photograph. "Whose shadow is that next to yours? It had better not be that Mary Jane," she had said. Tempers flared. "It was very sad," she remembered some years later. "Pneumonia. But this roast duck is delicious."
ReplyDeleteHa-ha! A splendid and funny translation of the famous anthem.
DeleteAn A for effort, YP, but it's still sappy. :)
ReplyDeleteYou inspired me to write that Steve. Shame I could not win you over - especially when I reflect that Bobby Goldsboro is another son of Florida.
DeleteHe is indeed, born in Marianna, but apparently he moved across the state line to Alabama when he was a baby. You know who else was born near Marianna? Fay Dunaway! And she and Bobby were born four days apart! How's that for some trivia?!
Delete(I confess I did not know any of this before your post sent me on an Internet adventure.)
You have written a good interpretation of the song. I liked it when it came out although it really is quite a tear jerker of a song. It always reminded me of some of the country songs you hear in ballad form only not "musically country".
ReplyDeleteGlad to hear that you also liked this song when it came out Bonnie.
Delete