Blurbs from Song Stories

Wrinkles (Diamond Rio)

37 year old Joseph Fairbanks, husband and father of four, is a successful businessman and long time athlete. A recent development in arthritis, however, has limited his ability to participate in marathons and charity runs. At first frustrated with this new physical challenge and still grieving from the loss of his father a year before, Joe reflects on his memories. He comes to a peaceful resolve on his situation when he remembers the life lessons he learned as a child.

There Goes My Life (Kenny Chesney)

Jake Harley married his High School Sweetheart the week after graduation, with plans to travel the world, attend a prestigious college, and become a successful business man in the automobile industry. He thought he had nought to worry about but doting on his wife and easily paying the bills. When he discovers he is the soon-to-be father of a beautiful baby girl, his dreams spur quickly to a halt. Jake feels at first caged and limited as well as confused in the responsibilities of guardianship. As he measures up to responsibility, however, Jake realizes that his daughter's life is the best decision he's ever made.

Forever & Always (Taylor Swift)

Jo (Juniper) Bellant is a tomboy in her senior year of high school. She's never dated much, acting as an independent and carefree woman--until a certain young man moves into her small town. Drew Lawson is assigned a seat next to her in Physics, and as their conversation blossoms into friendship, Jo knows she has finally found a man worthy of her love. After dating a blissful few months, the gossip around the school meanders to Drew's head. He decides though he loves Jo, their differences outweigh their comparable traits, distancing himself from her. Heartbroken and confused, Jo picks up her guitar and strives to find a way through the tragedy by pouring out her emotion into song.

Concrete Angel (Martina McBride)

Lily Jewkes is a fourteen year old city girl, trapped in an emotional confine of her abusive home. Lily is struggling to find a way to overcome her insecurities about boys, growth spurts, and junior high drama while hiding the physical beatings dispatched by her father. Lily finds refuge in a tutoring center for struggling math and science students, finding mentor Judy Lunz, a senior in high school. Lily must compose the courage to escape the hand of her father and confide in both Lunz and the police.

All I Want (Steven Curtis Chapman)

A tragic car accident leaves Rick Swenson, age eight, parent-less in the states. Having moved recently from Canada and having no living family relations, he is forced to jump from foster home to foster home in Conneticut while a permanent family is found. Two years later, with no familial success, Rick decides to give one last plea for a family in a letter to Santa Claus. Skeptical of Santa's existence and afraid of consequences from his naughty behavior, Rick hides the letter in his school binder for nearly two months. Only a week before Christmas, Rick mails the note. come December 25th, Rick receives a surprise call from the foster care facility. The next months of his life are spent adjusting to a life with a new family and learning to appreciate the tender mercies God offers.

Song Story: Wrinkles

Title: Wrinkles
Artist: Diamond Rio
Link to Song Lyrics

Plot: A grown man reflects on a memory from when he was a young boy. Frightened by the pruny appearance of his fingers from the bathwater, he worriedly relates this to his Dad, who is shaving by the sink. His dad explains that "Those are wrinkles, they ain't nothin' to be scared of!" The young boy wanders down the hall after listening to his daddy and enters his parents' room. He hears his mother complaining about her own wrinkles/age, so he decides to take his Daddy's advice and passes on the motto "Those are wrinkles, they ain't nothin' to be scared of!" He completes the story with his outlook on life now that he is grown and starting to recieve real wrinkles; contiuing to keep to the lesson his father taught him.

Characters:
Grown Man (Main character)
Young Boy (Main Character)
Daddy (Father to boy)
Mama (Mother to boy)
Audience (Main Character is talking directly to audience)

Conflict: Main Character is concerned with wrinkles and the physical problems/disabilities that accompany old age--such as wrinkles, gray hair, arthritis, etc. His parents are also concerned originally, before they express their new philosophy.

Theme: Acceptance of aging;
As long as you're living right and loving life, don't worry about 'wrinkles.' They're just a product of time and true love!

Setting: Happy family Suburban home; begins in the bathroom (specifically a hot bath, then to the hamper and sink), progresses down the hall to the master bedroom. Setting of the Character in Adult life is ambiguous.

Six Word Memoirs: My own philosophies

#10--Andes Mints on my Grandma's Table.
#9--I'm gonna worry, but not now.
#8--Lost a fight with a Goldfish.
#7--Prevent regret before you feel it.
#6--Seventeen, College Plans, time to fly.
#5--Car stopped at a forked road.
#4--Fingers raw from pressing six strings.
#3--Blue eyes, free skies, heavy sighs.
#2--One lane highway ahead, no exits.
#1--American Stars on my father's coffin.

Grand Theft Poetry: The Choice

Two choices diverged before me.

I listed the pros and cons for each upon my notebook page.

As I did so, I asked myself for the thousandth time;

"Why must I choose between the places that most determine my future?"

I blocked out the second option with one hand so I could focus solely on the first.

Soft music tantalized my thoughts as I soaked in the pros and cons, options like a melody careening through my mind--the notes smiling at me like an old friend.

I shook my head, trying to clear the temptation, before removing my hand from the right side of the page and planting it firmly on the left. The music stopped.

I gazed at the second.

Mountains unconquered, unfamiliarity, and promise lurked dangerously in this choice. It was not what my eager eye and willing ear wanted me to opt for.

With a large sigh, I took them both again; holding them like a balance beam, my mind the weighing lever teetering back and forth.

From which scale could I glean the most potential and success?

Only if you knew! My thoughts hackled mercilessly.

I took a breath, and unsteadily, crossed the second candidate into an incomprehensible mess of pen marks.

I reviewed my final choice, the first, with satisfaction and peace.

I had done well,

Perhaps this was the path more traveled by--but the best for me.

The one to make all the difference.

My Flaming Converse Shoes (Bad Poetry Revised)

I stroke the fabric of your withering all-star frame.

Red, red, red shoes.

And who'd have thought?
I had boring sneakers previously,

Before you.

And then I saw an ad, a colorful array of Converse shoes splayed out upon the page.

Lots of colors, but my eyes could only focus on one pair.

Red. Red. Red shoes.

I took a chance, stepping outside my normal fashion realms.

And suddenly I realized--

Who cared about my disproportionate bony toes,

When enveloped inside a stylish crimson case?
Adorned with

brand

new

fresh

white

laces. Beautiful!

Red, Red, Red shoes.

I remember you dangling beneath me,

On a roller-coaster inside the magic of Disneyland Park, soaring over the mickey mouse hats beneath us.

I remember afternoon walks after a rainy day, when the air is thick and fresh with moisture.

unreservedly we leapt into the joyous wet of a thick mud puddle.

Perhaps the best of all, was when I wore you on a date,

with that handsome young man;

I remember you taking me out on the dance floor,

Pulsing with confidence--Vibrant with flame,

and I didn't care if I wasn't a student at The Pointe! I let my feet fly anyways, graceful or not.

Red, Red, Red shoes.

And here you are now, after all those memories.

Trashy, beat up, worn, and beautiful.

And I'll still wear you, as long as you last,

My flaming converse shoes.

Very Bad Poetry: A sonnet to my shoes

Thine utter crossing laces

doth fray upon my feet

The stench that emanates from you

smells of rotten beets

I dream of days up mountains

and steps in fresh manure

Tears well at thoughts of bubblegum

their stickiness you lured

I have to sigh in thought

at the grand trail of scuff marks

Upon tile floors and wooden gyms;

the squeaking like birds--larks.

I stroke the fading fabric

of your withering all-star frame

I hope you'll not forget me

For I'll always remember your fame

For as long as I have you

In mud puddles I'll leap

And smash the wand'ring red ants

that beneath your soles creep

There's not so many folks with love

enough to make a verse

For my trashy, tattered, beat and worn

disgusting pair of Converse.

The Impulse: Train Station

M: Jessica, it's so good to see you again! I can't believe how long it's been.
W: Me neither. Who knew that three years could pass so quickly . . .
M: What are your plans, now that you've finished your undergrad and all?
W: Well, you remember how much I enjoy writing.
M: Yeah, I remember that little notebook you used to carry around.
W: The one you stole from me every so often; wehre you wrote your name all over on random pages? And hearts with our initials inside?
M: Yeah, that one. Anyway, go on!
W: You're blushing!
M: Go on!
W: You know I'm teasing. It's my job. Anyway, I'm leaving to Massachussets to pursue a career in journalism.
M: So fitting, for you. Someday, when you publish a pulitzer, I'll have bragging rights.
W (laughing): What do you mean?
M: You know, when this fabulous piece is raved about in newspaper columns and the news, and the whole literate audience in America booms "Who is Jessica W. Renaldi?" I'll pull out my yearbook, point to your picture, and show everybody that I know you-- that htis grand work was written by none other than my friend.
W: Well, I doubt that will happen for quite a while, if at all. But I appreciate the flatter nonetheless, Jake. (pauses, and mutters under her breath) my friend.
M: Jess-- (pauses; steps forward and back, shuffling, before lokoing back up at her, a faint smile on his face), do you ever wonder waht might've been?
W: I don't know what you mean.
M: I think you do, Jess.
W: I thought you stopped calilng me that.
M: What?
W: Jess. You haven't called me that since . . . since . . .
M: Yeah, I know when. But why not start back up again? Old habits die hard, and all that. And I missed you. I miss you. I can't hardly believe I'm talking to you now, while you're waiting for your train to take you across the country.
W: I can believe it. I can also believe that the old habits need to be left with the past. It's not worth it to me. I can't endure it again, Jake. You weren't the only one that was hurt by the distance.
M: I suppose you're right. But that doesn't mean my feelings have gone away in the least bit.
W: Jake, the distance--
W: You say it like it'll all be fien. Like we won't mind being apart, that our love will 'conquer all.' But it's time for me to move on. That was 1930, jake, and now its 1933. It has to be this way.
M (kisses her cheek, and whispers in her ear): I understand.
(uncomfortable silence)
W (feigned nonchalance): So, what are your plans?
M (looks down at his business suit): Well, judging by my stuffy garb, I think I'll be continuing on as a lawyer.
W: You'll do wonderfully!
(Train whistle)
W: That's my ride. I'd best be off. It was good to see you, really, it was.
M (picking up her suitcases and helping her aboard): You too. Good luck in Massachussets, Jess. Keep in touch.
W (with a sad smile): I think for both our best interests, I'd better not.
M (mournfully): Bye.