Harmonicahelps.….. from a contented Busker.

 

 

 

 

  At times Tommy takes on a look that resembles Stan Laurel. Dick is the patient heavy. Much more patient than Oliver Hardy. Not nearly as fat.

  Painting by T. C. Chiu It’s a prayer that comes As I pass the homes Of the homeless on the street. With their tents and wraps And their sorry happs We have chilly times to meet. They are disinclined Thinking I don’t mind That their lives are short on Hope. But I do you know And it shakes me so As they shiver and they grope. Grope for food and heat And some dryer feet And some self-respect perchance. Pushing carts of stuff Surely not enough For a life that might advance. Do they think I gloat In my newest coat And my car that passes by? I might listen now With my wallet vow. To support right paths they try.

  Thinking of Stephanie, Elizabeth and Jordan in Montreal In a soldiers’ camp  With a  storm  at sea  Round a  campfire ’s  glow  Come and play with me.  As a Mongol’s trade  For some aged goat cheese  On the  quiet  back porch  ‘Gainst a  summer  breeze.  I have  tunes   you know  Others  haunt  a bit  Gentled  hearts  will glow  At the  warmth  of it.  Music  brings  us all  To a  sweet  accord.  Maybe  brings  One Home  To our  calling  Lord.

  Inspired by Martyr Missionary Jean de Brebeuf "Brings you Beauty, Peace and Joy." (the huron carol) visit the historic location near Midland ON https://histocall.blogspot.com/2022/07/brebeuf-ending.html

  For some, a cold Christmas Eve, and nothing out of the ordinary. The gentle little Babe of Hope just might offer new chances, And getting out from the constant search for bare survival and companionship. Offer help.

  Music is the life blood for this little orphaned kid. Miracles happen. Family emerges. Wonderful movie. My parents, both musical I know that within And how I got started Is hard to explain. Mistakes and confusion Now I'm on the street For money and lodging And good things to eat. The music comes easy. Folks clap in the Park. And someday my parents Step out of the dark.

  He saw it The needs, and  He got right well busy. His subjects in pain And in want Not so pretty. Resources were mustered And kindness sent forth. Midst wind and The snowflakes Of cruel winter's North. His name known Through Ages. His largesse a sign Of man's constant duty To help humankind.

  I never knew He needed to find Someone to listen. Cash was getting Mighty slim And drugstore sold elixir. Daughter coughing Pretty hard, and What was there to fix her? Wife was taking off From work, but How the cash was needed. Here I played My little harp, but None passed by to heed it. Soon his words ran Elsewhere, rough And tears flowed From the portals. Listening. Caring. Tough smiles wearing. The best to Find in mortals.

  Harry Chapin. Defining the spell-binding balladeer form of the seventies (Cat's in the Cradle...Taxi Driver). Stories compelling. Syncopation of lines, simply brilliant. Proving that life's a beauty, or life's a bitch. Taken away from us much too soon.

 

Local broadcaster of former years. Does online now a customary Sunday Song. Very easy listening and impactful. I remember a house church hosted for years by Klaus and Joyce Kitt. Klaus really enjoyed songs of Boney M. Lots of group singing and prayer.  I think it was three times they got to visit Israel. Stand in all the prominent places of Jesus’ earth walk. Observe with wonder and joy. Klaus has gone on to Glory. I wonder if he gets to give IT service up there? Hand out artfully compiled CD’s?

 Roger Hodgson/Supertramp.

 

 Playing for Change Red shirt and suspenders One eye most gone Harp playing everywhere Bluesy the song. Pain in the memories Some fun times too. Seeing the transport Music can do. Sheet music missing Family tunes held Different each rendering Still all is well.