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Deutsche Advents & Weihnachtslieder
On a crispy night, I thought I would share some beautiful Advent and Christmas Carols from Germany. Turn down the electric lamps, light some candles, pull a loved one or beloved animal next to you, close your eyes, and let these songs wash over you. ~ S.K. Orr
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Tones of Heaven
Mrs. Orr and I stumbled on this piece of music recently. We both sat and listened while watching each others’ faces. It’s an aching piece of chest-music, with a melody that makes me want to close my eyes and write a loved one, repent of a sin, stroke a dog’s ears, gaze at an old photograph, hold my wife close. The composer is Michael Hoppe, and he seems to be a very interesting man. This evening while acquainting myself with his work, I found Mr. Hoppe’s gorgeous Ave Maria. I’ve included it here for you. If I may presume to offer a suggestion for your evening prayers, look up the…
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There Is A Reason
Mrs. Orr and I just finished listening to a concert by Allison Krauss & Union Station, a group we haven’t listened to in years. Their final number in the show was one we’d never heard before, a spiritual number called “There Is A Reason.” I found it so affecting I though I would post it here, with the lyrics below. My favorite part of the lyric is where Allison sings, “I give my heart so easily to the ruler of this world, when the one who loves me most will give me all…” ~ S.K. Orr I’ve seen hard times and I’ve been told There isn’t any wonder that I…
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A Prayer In Song
I haven’t listened to John Michael Talbot in a long time. When I’m in a certain mood, his music is appealing and soothing to me. Talbot apparently used the first part of the phony Covid lockdown to record a CD called “Songs From Solitude.” Here is one of the songs from that CD. And then here’s a song version of the Jesus prayer. My thoughts on this were sparked by recent posts by Bruce Charlton and William Wildblood. I hope these songs give you a sense of peace in your soul. ~ S.K. Orr
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And The Way You Used To Ride Out
Been thinking a lot lately about my father-in-law, who was a truly great man. He quit school when he was about eight years old to help support his family, and he worked hard all his life. Relatively late in life, he developed an interest in breeding horses. Typical of the man, he obtained books on the subject and taught himself from the ground up. Before he walked his slow, arthritic walk into the pool of spotlight in a dusty Texas arena and doffed his Stetson at the cheering crowd who had gathered to honor him before the end of his days, my wife’s father had built himself up into one…
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Trying To Sort Some Things Out…
….in my mind and soul. In the meantime, I’ll share some more of my annoying musical tastes. ~ S.K. Orr
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It Comes To This
Time comes when a man realizes, truly and finally, that he will never do any of those things he’s kept in the footlocker of dreams in the back of his life’s closet. They call themselves the Chicks now, because they’re ashamed of the word “Dixie” and because they’re progressive and they’re on the right side of history. Mind you, they don’t have much of a career anymore, and they’ve never been introspective enough to take the blame for their Maines-inflicted fatal wound, but they were once very enjoyable. And the lyrics to this song are poignant and powerful. And tonight, the lyrics are personal. UPDATE — I replaced the video…
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Coming To You Live….
… from the Lone Star State. We’re on our summer jaunt to Texas, visiting son and daughter-in-law and two grandsons, soaking up the heat and the singular atmospheric vibe that is The Republic of Texas. We’ve been rained on, slobbered on by a beautiful Golden Retriever, nibbled on by a tiny rat masquerading as a chihuahua/poodle mix, read to by an intense and beaming blonde boy, treated to homemade purple hull peas and jalapeno poppers courtesy of MooMoo, wooed with promises of smoked brisket by Joshie-O, serenaded by another blonde grandson with a two-fisted corndog technique, watched a diamondback rattler making his way through a busy intersection, and have been…
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Jinxaversary
It’s hard to believe that it’s been an entire year since I wrote this post. The spotted menace awakened us this morning with his usual antics, and I thumped him and pounded him and rassled with him and then I sang him a “Happy Jinxaversary” song to the tune of the overture from William Tell. Ever the astute critic, Jinx showed his appreciation by trying to pull my shirt off of me. After he ate, we went for a walk. We were standing on the side of the road when our cattleman neighbor drove past with an enormous bull in a cattle car, headed for the Saturday auction. The bull…
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Last Weekend in Standard Time
Jinx didn’t let us sleep in too late today, which was a pity because I was still exhausted from yesterday’s little stroll. But spotted dogs with small brains and enormous personalities cannot be denied, and we laughed together as he bounded around the room, growling and moaning. Yes, moaning. Jinx has a peculiar noise he makes when he’s trying to provoke us into playing with him, a noise that sounds quite a bit like the timbers in the HMS Indefatigable with HH on the bridge during a storm. A deep, creaky, groany glissando up and down three octaves. Moaning will have to do as the noun here. The moaning. Oh,…