Twentieth Anniversary

I have so much to say on this twentieth anniversary of Ken's death -- so much to say, yet so little energy to go there in my mind and relate all that I want to express. I have related what this day means to me as a mommy on my family blog. But I want to explain the words that came to me only days after he took his life.

When the tragedy of Ken's decision struck my family, I was in my second month of college as a music and English major. And even though I was asked to see our college psychologist when I returned to school, my real therapy was in the basement of the music department's chapel in the practice rooms. I had my favorite room with my favorite piano and would play whatever I wanted without anyone's judgements. And a song about Ken just happened. I didn't do it on purpose; it really just evolved. I think part of me needed to play it to feel as if I were close to him in some way. I didn't make the connection then, but I had a lot of trouble performing solos after Ken's passing. Looking back, music was my thing -- the one thing that Ken didn't do better. I really believed he was more talented, more intelligent, more popular, more everything than me. I don't even say that in a negative way; it just was a fact. Secretly, I think that may have given me confidence in my musicality. I knew I excelled in academics, but I would never be as scholarly as Ken; I had a lot of wonderful friends, but I would never be the life of the party as Ken was; but I pursued music and found myself a field that Ken hadn't conquered yet. And while in one breath he would call me a band nerd, he would also tell me how good he thought I was on rare occasions.

But my confidence in every area was shot after we lost Ken. The very first solo I had in college only weeks after Ken's death was a nightmare that I replayed in my mind many times after. It was our chamber choir performance -- a select choir whose membership was by audition only and who received music fellowships for their inclusion in the group. I had auditioned for this solo and was chosen out of all of the girls, even though I was a freshman and this was my first concert. So you can imagine how mortified I was when I walked up to the front of the stage to sing my solo and completely forgot all of the words. That had never happened to me in all of my years of recitals, concerts, and solos. I had certainly been terribly nervous before, flubbed a note or two, or had shaky vocals, but forget my words?!? Ridiculous. I had several inconsistent performances after that, too. So, when it came time to perform my senior voice recital three years later and I told my voice teacher that I wanted to perform an original song, I understood her immediate hesitation. She was a wonderful woman who believed in my abilities and talents, but she also knew my story. Many people at college had gotten to know me freshman year as "that girl whose brother killed himself." I think when I sang, part of me wanted to prove to those people that I was a strong person who could forge through this pain and I would show them. But as my previous solos had proven, sometimes I passed my own test; sometimes I didn't. My voice teacher was concerned when I told her about my song. Understandably, she probably envisioned me stopping mid-verse and sobbing off of the stage. She wanted to hear it, so I played and sang it for her. Just then, my accompanist walked into my lesson. "Oh, Kristin, are you going to sing that in your recital?" she asked while she put down her things and plopped down at the piano. "No problem," she announced as she began to play every note of my original song perfectly. I was taken aback. "How do you know that song?!?" I asked, stunned but smiling. "Are you kidding?" she responded. "You have been playing this piece for the past four years. Didn't you ever hear me playing it along with you in my practice room?" So much for soundproofing. She later explained that she knew it meant something special to me, and she thought it was so pretty that she learned it after I had left one night. So much for my complex songwriting abilities.

Anyway, that moment, it became clear to all of us that I had no choice but to perform this song that I had written for my brother in my senior recital. A senior recital is the final test of a music major, and I was singing some very challenging pieces. But I needed to prove I could do this song. I needed to sing it in front of my parents, grandparents, professors, longtime friends, and college roommates. And most of all, I needed to sing it for Ken.

If you'd like to hear me sing (and play) the song for yourself, click here (in the middle of the screen, find the song "Now" under "Songs;" then click the "Play Song Now" arrow). I will leave you with the lyrics to the song from an eighteen-year-old naive girl who desperately missed her big brother and had to express it through her simplistic song, the twenty-one-year-old who performed it from the depths of her heart to all her loved ones including her brother at her senior recital without faltering, and the thirty-eight-year-old who would give anything to never hear this song again and hear her brother's boisterous laughter instead. After twenty years, that would most certainly be the best music of all to my ears.

Now

When we were young
We needed little more
Didn't care what life
Was really for
Never thought we
Would ever be apart
Never thought then
That you would break
This little girl's heart

But now I know that
Life just isn't fair
We wait too long to
Show how much we care
What would I give
To end this circumstance
I'd give my life if
I could give you a second chance

Now when I see sky
I see your face
Although they say you're
In a better place
There's somewhere here
Where you will still remain
In my heart you'll stay
And that will never ever change

How could you be so wrong
Can I go on
Without your love right by my side
I don't know how I will survive
Oh how
Will I get through this
How could you do this to me now
How
Could you do this to me
Now

© 1988, Kristin Spengler

New Poll: What songs remind you of Ken?

Music is a huge part of my life. I grew up appreciating all different genres, thanks to my mom and dad (both talented musicians and music teachers) and my brother who was drawn to very different music than I was. While I have a bachelor's degree in music and I was always pegged as the musical child of our family, you may not know that Ken was also musically inclined. He may not have pursued it as an extra-curricular activity, but as the sister who shared a bedroom wall with him, I know for a fact that my brother could sing. And while our tastes may have been quite opposite -- I loved Olivia Newton-John when he loved KISS; I loved Top 40 when he loved heavy metal; I loved Debbie Gibson when he loved Grateful Dead -- I don't think I would appreciate all types of music if not for his influence. In fact, I related to my now-husband's musical tastes easily because they reminded me so much of the music I grew up on...only a bedroom away.

You already know some of the songs that remind me of Ken; several of them are on the sidebar and they play each time you visit this site. But there are so very many more that sometimes catch me off guard. Sometimes I cry when I hear them; sometimes I smile. Some of them were private jokes between the two of us. Some were songs he would play on his record player ad nauseum so loudly that I couldn't hear my own music (on purpose, no doubt). But I started thinking that so many friends who wrote their memories of Ken referenced music. And that, of course, led me to wonder...

What songs remind you of my brother, Ken?

I would love to know! To participate, simply click on the link below that says a number and "comments." Then, type your comments in the box. If you have a Google or Blogger account, you can enter that information; if you click "Open ID" you will have some other account choices such as AIM, but all of you can simply click "Name/URL" and enter your name (the URL is not required). If you want, you can also click "Anonymous" and then sign your name at the end of your comment. Then, just click "Publish Your Comment." It's a lot easier than it looks....I promise!

So, please let me know what songs remind you of Ken, and it would be great if you could also tell why it reminds you of him. I can't wait to see your responses!

Brokedown Palace

This song is the most difficult to listen to or write about for me. For those that don't know, Ken left a note and a cassette tape with this song on it when he took his life. That is why my parents chose to have these words on his grave: "We loved you more than words can tell."

Brokedown Palace

Fare you well, my honey, fare you well, my only true one.
All the birds that were singing are flown except you alone.

Goin' to leave this brokedown palace,
On my hands and my knees, I will roll, roll, roll.
Make myself a bed by the waterside,
In my time, in my time, I will roll, roll, roll.

In a bed, in a bed, by the waterside, I will lay my head.
Listen to the river sing sweet songs to rock my soul.

River going to take me, sing me sweet and sleepy,
Sing me sweet and sleepy all the way back home.
It's a far gone lullaby sung many years ago.
Mama, Mama, many worlds I've come since I first left home.

Goin' home, goin' home, by the waterside I will rest my bones,
Listen to the river sing sweet songs to rock my soul.

Going to plant a weeping willow,
By the bank's green edge it will grow, grow, grow.
Sing a lullaby beside the water,
Lovers come and go, the rivers roll, roll, roll.

Fare you well, fare you well, I love you more than words can tell.
Listen to the river sing sweet songs to rock my soul.

(To listen to the song, scroll down the right margin to find the playlist.

Then click on "Brokedown Palace.")

When October Goes

There are different reasons for the musical selections on this site*; some are probably obvious while others may not be. I heard this song in the car about ten years ago and it caught me off guard so suddenly that I had to pull over. I wondered if how someone else could have written a song that seemed to channel my own private thoughts so perfectly. (I later learned that the lyrics were written by Johnny Mercer who also wrote classics like "Moon River" and "Come Rain or Come Shine." His wife gave Barry Manilow a stack of his lyrics after Mercer's death.)

Turning the calendar over to October year after year has never gotten any easier. I often wonder if it would be less ominous if Ken's death had not occured on Halloween. The anniversary of anyone's death is difficult, yet every year, when the leaves begin to turn, I am met with an increasing supply of ghosts, skeletons, and dead creatures seemingly reminding me of the day that is quickly approaching.

Having children forced me to change the way I viewed Halloween. I try to focus on them and their excitement. I still have trouble, but in trying to be a good mommy to my boys, I resolve to keep a stiff upper lip, at least until they are fast asleep.

One of the lines of this song that gets me every time is: "I should be over it now, I know." I have always despised the flippant cliche', "get over it." What a useless piece of "advice." It is an insensitive and ignorant thing to say, which is why I will probably always remember when someone asked a friend of mine, who was consoling me at the time, "Isn't she over it yet?" in reference to Ken's death. No, I'm not "over it." I wasn't then, and I doubt I ever will be. To me, being "over it" would mean forgetting the tragedy of his decision and the massive potential he had in this world. To me, being "over it" would be a disservice to his soul. But sometimes I do chastise myself for getting misty at a memory at an inopportune time with similar words, and I have to remember that it's okay not to be "over it," no matter how old I grow.


When October Goes

And when October goes
The snow begins to fly
Above the smokey roofs
I watch the planes go by
The children running home
Beneath a twilight sky
Oh, for the fun of them
When I was one of them

And when October goes
The same old dream appears
And you are in my arms
To share the happy years
I turn my head away
To hide the helpless tears
Oh, how I hate to see October go

I should be over it now, I know
It doesn't matter much
How old I grow
I hate to see October go

*The music on this site begins automatically; it can be stopped by clicking the pause button.
You can also choose another selection if you prefer to listen to a different song on the list.

From Sally (Tapert) Forrest

Bits and Pieces

By Lois Cheney

People,

People important to you,

People unimportant to you,

Cross your life,

Touch it with love and carelessness

And move on.
There are people who leave you

And you breathe a sigh of relief

And wonder why you ever

Came into contact with them.

There are people who leave you

And you breathe a sigh of remorse

And wonder why they had to go away

And leave such a gaping hole.

Children leave parents,

Friends leave friends.

Acquaintances move on,

People change houses.

People grow apart.

Enemies hate and move on.

Friends love and move on.
You think on the many

Who have moved into your hazy memory.

You look on those present and wonder.

I believe in a master plan

In lives moving people

In and out of each other’s lives,

And each leaves a mark on the other.

You find you are made up of bits and pieces

Of all who ever touched your life,

And you are more because of it,

And you would be less

If they had not touched you.
Hope that you accept the bits and pieces

In humility and wonder,
And never question,

And never regret.