"Light your fire and have no fear, life is made for love and cheer" was the inscription on a recycled tombstone and inlaid in the fireplace at Ambleside.  Tragically, in 2010, Ambleside burned to the ground overnight to greet the Memorial Day sunrise with indescribable sorrow of loss and boundless gratitude for everyone getting out safely. I started this song that morning in 2010.  As Memorial Day 2016 approaches, the muse stops by to help me finish the song.  So, with love and thanks, I dedicate this song to Ambleside One.  Thank you Tommy.  And to the rest of my northern NY kinfolk, thank you for the preparation and hard work you put into our visits to make birthday parties or just another after dinner boat ride into another Adirondack sunset so very special.  I love you all.  Looks like Ambleside Two is establishing her own identity and memories, but, man, Ambleside One was bona fide magic.
Immeasurable thanks to LV Ross at The Composers Corner for recording and finalizing with love and patience.  He gets it.  Photo taken in the wee hours as Ambleside burned.  That's Tommy on the right, see him?  It's a photo of heartbreak, but not as famous as some photos of heartbreak.  Still counts though.

Ambleside

Fairly autobiographical this song, from the memories that lay in wait for it to be written to the "long dark walk in a cool soft rain" that brought them all again to the forefront, I still owe a debt to the 'incredible standing man with three first names', Mikey Todd, for his enthusiastic support of this walk to The Wall while in Washington DC, both of us on business trips, each to his own project.  After work and obligatory cocktails, we set out from the Marriott eventually passing milestones such as the US Dept of the Navy building as well as, and I don't recall the exact title, but I remember the US Dept of the National Pharmacy or something of the like.   The rain and the dark and the late had kept most people away from The Wall that night so we had the honor of seeing the wall stark and alone with just one or two shadow figures kneeling or reaching, touching The Wall ...   I found Sgt Porter's name in the book of panel locations (organized by location, interesting to see others from Oneida, NY) but the rain and the dark made it nigh unto impossible to see Butch's name on The Wall.  Only decades later, at a smaller scale travelling version of The Wall did I see his name clearly enough to get a photo.  The lyric came also from memories of the day 'that dark green car pulled in the neighbor's yard'.  I was able to watch from the front porch the car  that had stopped at Johnson's Quiet Valley farm house and prompted Carol to call mom to tell her of the Army's quick visit looking for Porter's house.  Mom knew why, her son, my brother was in Viet Nam too.  Today, you can see Butch's headstone in Oneida just up the road from his childhood home.  It mentions he was killed inside the Cambodian border, before RMN had divulged our strategic direction. "It takes a lot of Wall to hold sixty thousand names, and even more to justify the gain."  And even more to contain the tens of thousands of tales and songs very similar to this one.  Thanks for stopping to listen and read.  And Thank You Veterans, then or now, here or there.  It's a big deal and I appreciate your service.

Thank you to  Elvis Nixon Sound Production & Indictment Avoidance for the technically and psychologically wonderful room with ambiance so groovy..... perfect for playing and singing.  Just great.

Standing At The Wall

Dedicated to everyone who lost their fathers (in retrospect, those who lost anyone) too soon, whatever the circumstances.   Immeasurable thanks to those willing to share memories.  Gratitude, peace and love to you.

Memories Ghosts And Stories

Tongue in cheek lyric based on the assumption that everything is my fault.  War, climate change, fruit flies' life span, all of it.

Irreparably Flawed

Another departed friend song, Dave exited this world from the Rockies aboard his bagger, we had only been home from Sturgis 1990 a few days when he drifted off a sweeping left hander into the gravel up by Pineview Reservoir.   Miss you a lot Mad Dog, you were the undisputed Mayor of Coolville.

No Time To Cry

A self assigned exercise in songwriting, academic at first after hearing some song title with an old saying, adage.... a cliche, don't you know.  I don't know why I picked this one, just popped into my mind I guess.  The song itself turned into yet another kind of autobiographical  piece with references to love, loss, war, my usual themes.

Under The Gun

It's the same old story, started singing in church, mom taught me harmonies on road trips.  mandatory piano lessons but regrettably,  not much love there.   I wanted to play guitar because my older brother/hero did.  I listened to his stones, beatles, peter paul and mary, ccr,  ventures records.....mom says, "learn to play the uke if you're serious." Check.  I took few months' lessons using brother/hero's Kent classical with a neck 4 inches wide and three inches thick.  Check. Then one day up north, we made a surprise stop in a music store in Massena, NY and came out with a Harmony Monterrey arch top f-holes.  oh, and it's stamped 'FACTORY SECOND' inside.  50 bucks and just awesome. Time warp to today.  guitars and people come and go.    love to all.   
These songs are meant as a notebook, a repository I'm slowly filling with my songs recorded simply on just  guitar and the melody with lyrics. I know they're not perfect.   I have other efforts with more guitar work, harmonies, even bands and they'll show up here too eventually.  But for now, these are the songs as written, sans embellishments, a stripped down and simple legacy.  As Ringo says, and I believe he really means it, "peace and love!".       ds

donald r. santy jr.

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