About a dozen years
ago I wrote a song for my son, Jake,
who has a disability. It was a very personal song. I sing it sometimes, but I've never
made a recording of it other than the original demo made shortly
after it was written.
For his entire life my son has struggled against
adversity. He's a great guy,
full of humor and determination. He's polite, sensitive and
intelligent, too, but people often miss that. He wants to
be a writer someday and he's good at what he does. The song celebrates
his attitude and the way he has inspired me through the years.
Here's a brief
journal entry written around the same time as the song:
My young son has begun to talk about his dreams;
strange dreams to him. He’s falling and calling out to someone below,
please catch me, but they can’t hear and they don’t answer. In his
terror he falls until he awakens.
He stands before me now, cut on one knee, an elbow, and
both of his hands. This time it’s his uncooperative left leg, not his
dreams, that
sent him tumbling head first. As he throws the heavy limb ahead of him,
he sometimes throws it too far to the right and the cross up sends him
sprawling on the grass if he’s lucky; on something less forgiving if
he’s not. Gravity is his enemy, always conspiring with the roots of
trees and the shoulders of washout stones to bring him down.
He has fallen in the driveway this time. The bloodied skin
is raised like Braille from the impress of the gravel. While his sister
sings to him, I minister to his wounds, visiting the stations of his
pain with alcohol and cotton. I gently wrap the gauze around the backs
of his hands and he turns his palms upward in a saint-like gesture,
blessing me with a smile.
Then I go inside to write a long overdue letter to a
friend. I tell my friend I’ve been on a kind of precipice myself,
fearing the winds that threaten to sweep me off the ledge I’m clinging
to. There are days when life with Jake is challenging for all of us, and a dark
horizon looms three hundred and sixty degrees. And then there
are those days of singing blue sky, when I know I’m damn lucky to have him around.
On those days my heart is an eagle’s feather and I'm made for rough
winds.
My friend is trying to be helpful when he says he’s
there for me. He says to call if I need him. I would call, but my voice
is sometimes lost in the chasm below the ledge.
What can I tell you, son, about those dreams that alarm
you? This flesh is too heavy for the spirit’s wings to lift us. Each of
us in his way is a child of the falling-dream.
Giant Steps
You’re just a little boy clinging to your father’s hand
Your legs are working hard keeping up with your old man
And it gives you a feeling you can’t explain
To you this big old world is just a game
Taking giant steps, giant steps
A leap and a bound barely touching the ground
Time to stretch those wings, try new things
Learning to reach for your best
Taking giant steps
Now I’m too old for games or so I used to think
But part of me is a child and I’ve found that missing link
As our days rush by us we’ll grow as one
The two of us, like father like son
Taking giant steps, giant steps
A leap and a bound barely touching the ground
Time to stretch those wings, try new things
Learning to reach for your best
Taking giant steps
Soon the day will come when you’ll run ahead of me
Certain of yourself and what you’re gonna be
But when ever you stumble and lose your stride
May you never lose the boy down inside
Taking giant steps, giant steps
A leap and a bound barely touching the ground
Time to stretch those wings, try new things
Learning to reach for your best
Taking giant steps
