What I Was Trying To Say

Last weekend The Avett Brothers played after the Atlanta Braves game.

And I was there.

Maybe you don’t know who these brothers are.

I don’t really know who they are either, of course.

But I want to introduce you to what I do know.

I know that I love their music.

It’s folksy and rock and lyric-driven and they play guitars and banjos and other stringed instruments that sound first-rate together.

I know that I love their lyrics.

I’m pretty much tone-deaf.

(I think that makes Kevin more sad than it makes me.)

So when I like a song, when I really like a song, it’s probably because I really love the lyrics.

The Avett Brothers are only the second band that I have ever loved that I want to make a commitment to purchase every album their guitar-strumming hands have produced.

And lately, the song that I most love of their’s is a little number from their album “The Second Gleam”.

The song has a weird name – so don’t judge it from that.

“Murder in the City”.

This song is so moving to me.

I played it in the car for the kids the other day.

I tried to explain to them why I loved it so much.

It was an amusing conversation in our old Suburban.

But I was trying to explain my reasons.  To share the song.

To answer their questions.

I like the whole song.

But there’s this one line –

this one line that makes me claim this song as an anthem of sorts for our family.

The entire lyrics are thus . . .

If I get murdered in the city,
Don’t go revengin’ in my name.
One person dead from such is plenty.
No need to go get locked away.

When I leave your arms,
The things that I think of.
No need to get over alarmed –
I’m comin’ home.

I wonder which brother is better,
Which one our parents love the most.
I sure did get in lots of trouble –
They seemed to let the other go.

A tear fell from my father’s eyes.
I wondered what my dad would say.
He said I love you
And I’m proud of you both, in so many different ways.

If I get murdered in the city,
Go read the letter in my desk.
Don’t worry with all my belongings,
But pay attention to the list.

Make sure my sister knows I loved her.
Make sure my mother knows the same.
Always remember, there is nothing worth sharing
Like the love that let us share our name.
Always remember, there is nothing worth sharing
Like the love that let us share our name.

And the lines I love best, of course, come at the end.

Always remember,

there was nothing worth sharing

like the love that let us share our name.

It’s that idea,

that truth,

that makes this song a song I want my kids to hear.

There is nothing as valuable to me as being their mother.

Nothing as important as trekking through this world as a family.

Nothing as beautiful

as knowing

and loving

and being loved by

these seven other people who share my home

and fill my heart

and consume my days and nights

with all their living and learning and being.

(And that’s what I was trying to explain to my little ones.)