patty griffin

She sees him laying in the bed alone tonight
The only thing a touching him is a crack of light
Pieces of her hair are wrapped around and 'round his fingers
And he reaches for her side, for any sign of her that lingers

And she says you are not alone
Laying in the light
Put out the fire in your head
And lay with me tonight

One of them bullets went straight for the jugular vein
There were people running , a flash of light
Then everything changed
Nothing really matters in the end you know
All the worrys sever
Don't be afraid for me my friend, one day we all fall down forever




She says you are not alone
Laying in the light
Put out the fire in your head
And lay with me tonight

The wedding date was June just like any other bride
She loved him like no one before and it was good to be alive
But sometimes that can slip away as fast
As any fingers through your hands
So you let time forgive the past and go and make some other plans

You are not alone
Laying in the light
Put out the fire in your head
And lay with me tonight
You are not alone
Laying in the light
Put out the fire in your head
And lay with me tonight

Attempt at a column... take two...

I actually longed for my own business card today. I daydreamed about donning a fancy suit. It is safe to say that I have entered the era of life where I desire a career, and I am not even sure what it means.

My first exposure to the idea of a career was watching my father sign receipts in his office at a major brokerage firm when I was only a few years old. I didn’t understand the meaning of his signature nor the numbers running across the ticker tape on the bottom of his office stock-tracking television. Somehow, though, I was able to grasp the concept of what it meant to go to an office everyday, wear a suit and shake hands with a firm and steady grip. It was about identity.

As my father’s daughter, I traveled from city to city, grasping the hand of a financial powerhouse. Through airports, meetings and luncheons, I had a front row seat watching the leading man in my life, my dearest Dad, wrap the brokerage business around his little finger.

Described to me years later as a constant game of Russian Roulette where there was always at least one bullet, he went to work everyday in one of the most stressful and intense careers an individual can choose. He walked the floor of the New York Stock Exchange, ran numbers in his head faster than I could type them on my calculator, and kept the offices he managed in glistening condition. This was his career.

But what happens when that career disappears, when the show is over? What happens when your health fails, when the business you invested so much time in slips out of your firm and steady hand? Do you lose your identity, and what about a second chance?

Are careers dream-jobs or desks we are chained to? I would hope that I am entering a work force where I am not bound to just one. I’d rather dip my feet into many pools of choice and creativity, until one suits my fancy and I can take a swim until my fingers get all pruney.

Whether it’s trading stocks or typing words into a column, this young dreamer hopes that careers are more than just suits and paychecks. An identity should not rest on a resume or a diploma, but rather on the understanding that life is about rolling with the punches and the quality of it concerns picking yourself up when the bells rings.

If careers are like plays and the identity found in it like playing a part in a show, I’d have to say that when the curtains close on one career, shedding tears during the final bow is perfectly understandable. But for goodness sake, a career as a human being isn’t over. Gather your roses, sign a few autographs, and move on to the next stage in life.

Your fans are waiting.

column #1

I declared my own independence beneath the East Balcony of the Old State House in Boston, Massachusetts.

It was from that beautiful balcony that the people of Boston first heard their Declaration of Independence from Britain just a few days after it was signed in 1776, and I stumbled over it while on a tour of the city’s educational “Freedom Trail” 230 years later.

I was a fresh new college student 2,000 miles away from my Colorado home. Never had I embarked on such an extraordinary journey, and never had I gazed at such a monumental symbol of my impending freedom.

Growing up is a tough thing to do. As a young woman entering her twenties, I am currently on the edge of something large, a defining era in my life. I have entered the age of “discovering myself,” and I believe it is fair to say that this requires a fair amount of reflection. Who am I, where do I come from, who do I want to be?

Unfortunately, I find it difficult in this day and age to find pride in being young. I am always looking for an excuse to make myself out to be older than I actually am. Maybe this stems from the thought that with age comes knowledge, experience and wisdom. I keep thinking that the greatest jobs will come when I graduate from college, that the best opportunities in life will come as I age. This is the logic that most of my peers and myself hold, and it is a burden that we need to be rid of. No one should ever think that they couldn’t accomplish their goals, reach their destination, and achieve success because they are young.

And our Founding Fathers can testify to this statement.

The Founding Fathers of these United States of America were somewhat young when they took on the tricky task of declaring their independence from the world’s most powerful empire. When the Declaration of Independence was signed, John Adams was all of 40 years old, and Thomas Jefferson was 33. Benjamin Rush was only 30 when he put his pen (or quill, rather) to the page. None of these men and the countless number of other patriots had ever started a revolution before. They were not trained militiamen or practiced politicians. Quite simply, they were individuals with a cause, a goal, and a destination. They did not let their lack of experience or age bind them from seeking their rights to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.

This is what I will be thinking of as I watch the fireworks crack with color against the dark night sky, and spoon heaps of relish onto my chicken bratwurst at the family barbecue this July 4th.

My thoughts will be resting on the beautiful idea that I am a young, proud-to-be-an-American woman with the ability to achieve glorious things in this world. It is with this statement that I know I am on my way to answering the question: who do you want to be?

Who I want to be is an individual who lives her life testifying to the self-evident truths that all men, young or old, are created equal. That is what being an American means to me.


Happy Independence Day, sweet land of liberty.