The Wormlips Scrapbook

My ex-husband just sent an e-mail to tell me that Jean Ritchie, one of my all-time idols, has had a serious stroke. She must be in her eighties by now.

For those of you who don’t know Jean Ritchie: she’s one of the earliest Appalachian singer-songwriters to emerge from the hollers into the eyes and ears of the rest of the world during the folk revival. Her music is political, courageous and moving: ballads about black lung and mining disasters and the lives of her people.

I’ve admired her since my other ex-husband introduced me to her in the mid-seventies. Ten years later I had the opportunity to spend a day with her at her house in Port Washington, NY, where I interviewed her for my radio series about childhood. She fed me lunch from her garden. She was poetic and funny.

In one of these programs (In the Secret Garden), she describes her Kentucky home where the ridges in the distance “fall away like petals in a rose.” She recalls her mother looking out over the view and, in every season, sighing, “Lawd, chil’ren. This is the prettiest time.”

Years later I wanted to interview her again for the documentary I was producing about the John Henry legend. On the phone I told her about my project.

“It’s about the John Henry legend and the Appalachian culture that gave rise to it.”

“Gay rights? What on earth does John Henry have to do with gay rights?”

It took me a beat to figure out the miscommunication, and when I did I found it amusing. She didn’t. We decided to give the interview a miss this go ’round.

Here is another of my programs about childhood — Nighttime — in which Jean talks about not wanting to go to bed at night, and sings part of a children’s song:

Audio clip: Adobe Flash Player (version 9 or above) is required to play this audio clip. Download the latest version here. You also need to have JavaScript enabled in your browser.

By the way, I highly recommend her book about her childhood in Kentucky: Jean Ritchie’s Singing Family of the Cumberlands. (Maurice Sendak illustrated it.) She’s a wonderful storyteller.

I hope she isn’t suffering now. I’m very sad.

Here’s a song by Amy Rigby. I really like her. I even transcribed the lyrics for you.

(She also does another great song called, “Will We Ever Have Sex Again?”)

Don’t Ever Change (from Till the Wheels Fall Off)

The audio player is misbehaving at the moment. You may have to click and double-click and right-click around until it works. Or, it might be fine first try.

Audio clip: Adobe Flash Player (version 9 or above) is required to play this audio clip. Download the latest version here. You also need to have JavaScript enabled in your browser.

I took a walk in a small town Sunday morning.
Just to see what was going on.
Sat watching two guys fishing in the river running through
Like there was nothing wrong, nothing wrong.
They had their lines in the water ten feet apart
Beer guts, t-shirts, me with my heavy heart.
Don’t have religion but I’m trying to pray.
And I never liked fishing but I wanted to stand up
And say:

Hey, I love you. You’re perfect.
Don’t ever change. Don’t ever change.
Hey, I love you. You’re perfect.
Don’t ever change.

I picked my daughter up at school last week.
She had her headphones on. She barely said ‘hello.’
And all I wanted was to hug her, smother her with kisses,
But I was cool, like, ‘Hi there. How did it go?’
She had chipped nail polish, writing on her hand.
She was nodding her head to her favorite band,
Staring into space like she was all alone
But I didn’t take it personal. It meant that I was home,
And I said:

Hey, I love you. You’re perfect.
Don’t ever change. Don’t ever change.
Hey, I love you. You’re perfect.
Don’t ever change.

I’m holding on to anything that’s good in this world.
There’s a lot that is good in this world.

I saw my baby sitting there at the breakfast table,
His hair a mess and he forgot to shave.
And I wished that he would get up, make it all better,
Stop drinking so much, learn how to behave.
Then the radio was playing a Chuck Berry song.
He was looking at me, asking what was wrong.
I made a list of the things I could say,
But he gave me a wink and it all went away.
I told him:

Hey, I love you. You’re perfect.
Don’t ever change. Don’t ever change.
Hey, I love you. You’re perfect.
Don’t ever change. Don’t ever change.