“March me up a mountain.
Push me off the edge
I’d rather die flyin’
Than to ever leave this ridge…”
I was going to write about Nothing Holy but the Blood, my contribution to the upcoming compilation, The Red Album. Instead I chose to write about aging and starting over.
A few years ago, after an eight day stay in the hospital I was told by several doctors, I must stop farming, no more tractors, chainsaws, or sawmill. I had never foreseen this, I had been living on my farm, my Haven for the better part of forty years. I had built fences, a barn, a two story cabin with these two hands. I grew gardens, and corn. I put up hay. I loved that piece of mountain land. I thought I would die and have my ashes scattered there.
I sat around like an invalid for a while, my wife at the time wasn’t having it. The wood still needed to be cut, the fields mowed. I was no longer able. It did not matter. So, I began playing my music publicly again. It went over well, I began to travel and make a bit of money. I recorded an album and continued. It all came to a head one evening, she cornered me and asked me THE QUESTION, “Which is more important, our marriage or music?” Without thought or hesitation I answered “Music,” and our marriage ended.
I was in a quandry. What would I do? Where would I go? What would happen to the farm? A friend in Arkansas, who owned the Hidden Acres Farm event site offered to let me move a trailer or building and live there. I had made a lot of friends and followers there. It seemed a good fit. I already loved Arkansas, the diversity of the land, rivers and lakes, forests… It is the “Natural State.” But I was still torn about the giving up the farm.
Then I received an audio file and words to a song from my good friend, singer/songwriter, Krista Chapman Green. I listened to it with tears in my eyes. I picked up my guitar and began to sing it. She knew how torn I was about leaving Tennessee, about leaving Haven. She wrote “I Ain’t Dead Yet” for me. I play it every performance. It still brings me to tears. It captures my anguish and uncertainty perfectly.
This song was a turning point in my life.
Ain’t Dead Yet
March me up a mountain.
“Ain’t Dead Yet”, words and music by Krista Chapman Green (c) 2020
Push me off the edge
I’d rather die flyin’
Than to ever leave this ridge…
I know I ain’t afraid
Of what may be comin’ next
I’ve still got the fire in my veins…
I ain’t dead yet…
I ain’t dead yet…
Don’t you know the pines shine just like diamonds
In the early mornin’ Sunshine
Outside of my back door
I’m hearin’ a hoot owl call
Starin’ at the rainfall
Might seem a little boring to y’all
I’m just sittin’ on the floor
I’ve got everything I need
It’s in everything I see
No need to worry about me
I’ll be fine
I’ll be fine
March me up a mountain.
Push me off the edge
I’d rather die flyin’
Than to ever leave this ridge…
I know I ain’t afraid
Of what may be comin’ next
I’ve still got the fire in my veins…
I ain’t dead yet…
I ain’t dead yet…
March me up a mountain.
Push me off the edge
I’d rather die flyin’
Than to ever leave this ridge…
This song is available on BandCamp for a buck, here: https://louisgarou.bandcamp.com/track/aint-dead-yet
I live in Arkansas now. I gave the ex-wife two thirds of the farm and the cabin. I sold the other third and started over. I have seven beautiful acres of mostly woodland, with a creek. The property included a tiny cabin and a well. I have a couple of raised beds and a feral cat. My days are spent mostly working on the cabins, and working on my music. Krista lives outside the same little town as me. We frequently travel and perform together.
I feel young again.
For more information about Louis, including his collected articles here on Pagan Song, his bio, and links to Louis’ sites on the web, check out Louis’s author page here on Pagan Song.
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Like you, Lou, I spent my early years on a Farm and then in a farming community. A North Florida farm owned by my father’s first cousin’s husband. To me Aunt Virginia and Uncle Hal. You know the South and how these families connections work. My father ran that watermelon and cattle farm for my Uncle Hal in my early years and although we left the farm when I was still quiet young and my dad started working in my grandfathers (maternal) bank when he died (for the family) I still lived in a farm community and like everyone else worked summers in the watermelon and Tobacco farms and babysat. One of the few women left who remembers hoeing watermelons, plucking off horned worms from tobacco plants and once could string half a barn of tobacco in a day. I loved this song and the one for the coming Dark times. Your song for this season made me think of a zen saying that was a favorite of my husband and High Priest Albert aka Ur. “He who dies before he dies, never dies”
People think I am crazy or very brave because after burying two good but very different men 17 years apart, at the age of 74 I sold everything and moved to a little apartment in southern Portugal. I ain’t dead yet, either. I have a world to see, friends to make and music and books to appreciate.
Like you my life is filled with starting over. Its what country folk do.
Thanks for the music!