John Prine, a storyteller in song lyrics

You know, sometimes a fella has to take a break from all the sad news found on TV and circulating around the world.

If one is not careful, and has too few healthy habits to escape from all the bad news, well, a "callous" attitude might just seep into your soul.

And then when good friends become immersed in current "politics" and no longer have a reason to remain good friends, a parting soon occurs; this separation also makes for a sad commentary.

Me, I like to keep a little balance.

A tiny sip of blackberry libation while listening to some John Prine songs is most likely one of the best gifts ever given.

May I share with you a story of John Prine the songwriter and artist?

Prine was born on Oct. 10, 1946, in Muhlenberg County, Kentucky; he learned to play a guitar at the age of 14.

Later in life, Prine worked as a mailman for five years and was drafted in 1966 into the U.S. Army during the Vietnam conflict.

While serving as a mailman in Chicago, he began writing songs and performing at the Fifth Peg on Armitage Avenue. ‘In 1970, Chicago Sun-Times movie critic Roger Ebert heard him by chance at the Fifth Peg and wrote the first review Prine ever received, calling him a great songwriter.’

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I have been a fan of Prine’s for many years and often turn off the lights in my room, sip my libation and listen to his songs late into the night. Some of his songs are humorous, with funny lyrics, while others often tell a story about life which contain many social commentaries and more serious issues.

"Sam Stone" is a song he wrote about a young soldier who goes off to war in Vietnam and then returns home. His nightmares and addiction to drugs are laid out for the listener:

"Sam Stone's welcome homeDidn't last too longHe went to work when he'd spent his last dimeAnd Sammy took to stealingWhen he got that empty feelingFor a hundred-dollar habit without overtimeAnd the gold rolled through his veins."

I could relate to these lyrics as several friends I served with from Nam came back with drug addictions and difficulties. One close personal friend drowned in the Potomac River; I don’t believe it was an accident.

Prine wrote lyrics too about growing up in that small Kentucky County ("Paradise") destroyed by mining coal:

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"And Daddy, won’t you take me back to Muhlenberg County

Down by the Green River where Paradise lay

Well, I’m sorry my son, but you’re too late in asking

Mister Peabody’s coal train has hauled it away"

Prine’s songs touched on many subjects as he was growing up and seeing changes to those people and places he loved. When I hear the above song and lyrics, I often think of my own little village of Dargan.

It’s not the same little town. The log house I grew up in has a hole in the roof and is falling apart; the only things remaining are those memories of growing up there. Dargan was, a "Paradise" for me, and maybe a little like your homeplace.

Nothing seems quite the same anymore.

Another favorite John Prine song is "Please Don’t Bury Me."

It is a catchy little tune that talks about dying; listen to the first verse:

"Woke up this morningPut on my slippersWalked in the kitchen and diedAnd oh what a feeling!When my soul went through the ceilingAnd on up into heaven I did ride"

Prine continues to talk about his demise:

"Please don't bury meDown in the cold cold groundNo, I'd druther have 'em cut me upAnd pass me all around"

He then talks about giving his body parts away:

"Throw my brain in a hurricaneAnd the blind can have my eyesAnd the deaf can take both of my earsIf they don't mind the size"

"Give my stomach to MilwaukeeIf they run out of beerPut my socks in a cedar boxJust get 'em out of hereVenus de Milo can have my armsLook out! I've got your noseSell my heart to the JunkmanAnd give my love to Rose"

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My daughter Amy has firmly announced to me, if it be my fate, that this will be the last song played at my funeral as she concludes her eulogy.

If you attend my funeral, you will like the ending.

John Prine died from COVID-19 on April 7, 2020.

I’m missing him an awful lot; love his songs.

"We got to go now" ("Lake Marie").

Pete Waters is a Sharpsburg resident who writes for The Herald-Mail.

This article originally appeared on The Herald-Mail: John Prine, a storyteller in song lyrics