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charlene · 06-20-2023, 08:14 AM

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What I Learned from Gordon Lightfoot

n honor of Gordon Lightfoot’s passing on Monday night at 84 (a year older than my dad), I’m reposting this first part of a three-part series I wrote in 2020. My deepest sympathies to his family, fans, and friends. And I’m so grateful my son Tim and I got to see him live last year on April 5th in Phoenixville, PA.

If you could read my mind, love,
What a tale my thoughts could tell.
If You Could Read My Mind, ©1969 by Gordon Lightfoot

I know it had little to do with the fact that “his debut album… came out on United Artists in January 1966,” the same month and year I was born.[1] Still, there are few artists I’ve enjoyed, resonated with, and been influenced by more than Gordon Lightfoot. Among other things, I share a connection with Presbyterianism, small-town roots, a commitment to authenticity, and a delight in the wildness of nature.

I was introduced to Lightfoot’s music at seventeen by a friend, mentor, and another excellent singer-songwriter and guitarist, Richard Fuller. And for those who don’t know, Gordon Lightfoot was one of the brightest stars of the folk music genre, famous especially for his strong use of emotion, the consistently “high quality of his compositions,” and a band that featured Terry Clements’ amazing guitar work. A rugged Canadian with a huge talent, drive, and work ethic, I’ve identified with Lightfoot’s exquisite songs about “nature and love and the refined natural beauty of living.”

For good and, at times, for ill (more on that next week), Lightfoot’s songs were a balm to my repressive upbringing, inhibited soul, and the depression—anger turned inward—and cynicism I carried with me for a good part of my life. I found an honesty, humanness, and celebration of the goodness of creation (Gen. 1:31) in his expressions that I rarely experienced in the church.

In his very accessible biography (my favorite read from 2018), Nicholas Jennings notes that:

“Lightfoot did have a strong Presbyterian, almost Calvinist streak, in him. He professed not to be religious, but having grown up in a small Ontario town where churches and Protestant thinking dominated, he always held himself to a strict moral code. Throughout his life, Lightfoot faced issues of sin, redemption and repentance—and when reflecting on himself actually thought in those biblical terms. Guilt, a somewhat strange concept in the decadent world of rock and roll, would weigh heavily on him throughout his life as he judged whether he was a good husband, father or son.”[2]

Gordon and his fellow singer-songwriter and friend Joni Mitchell shared this “survivalist notion” to never go back to the “restraints” and “narrow-minded disapproval” of their childhood. Joni’s ex-husband, Chuck Mitchell, observed that this “was one of Joni’s main drives and I think Gordon’s too.”[3]

Yet his career took off in large part because he retained the genuineness of those small-town roots: “In an age of the ‘super cool,’ he digs deep into the warmth of the heart to relate some basic feelings about human longing and desire.’ Once embarrassed about his unpolished small-town ways, Lightfoot was finding that his lack of artifice had become an asset.”[4]

Lightfoot also gave me a love for history and place. Songs like Canadian Railroad Trilogy, Don Quixote, and The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald still bring legends to life. Many of his songs champion the beauty of the wilderness, the sea, or majestic creatures like the Blue whale. Some celebrate simple things like listening to music, a winter’s night, hard work and courage, or Rainy Day People. Others tell tales of regret, love—including illicit affairs, addiction to alcohol, and life on the road.

Throughout his prime, Lightfoot relied on rigorous “marathon outings to work off what he called his ‘spare tire’ from heavy drinking.” One example is when he took “a physically challenging 673-mile canoe trip on the Back River of Canada’s Northwest Territories… the country’s twentieth longest river and the most demanding of the eleven wilderness trips that he did.” This trip was especially “grueling because of the large portages” he and his five partners had to make with their two canoes.

Here’s Lightfoot’s personal account of this trip—one of my favorites from Jenning’s biography:

“We were icebound on the Back River, at a place called Beechey Lake. We weren’t able to travel through certain lakes because they’d be plugged with ice. We carried the canoes ten miles one day, after which there was another three-mile portage. So we ended up portaging thirteen miles—the longest I ever did. We figured we’d stop at the ten-mile point, camp and continue in the morning. But we got such a head of steam that we did the whole thing. It only got dark about one hour each night, so we kept going. It was really, really hard work. Some of the portages on that trip were filled with mud and mire and mush and we had to lift the canoes sideways in order to get through some of that stuff. We got involved in some stretches of river where we traveled eight miles but only wound up going one mile. It’s called a serpentine. We had two tents for camping, and we’d cook with small mountaineering gas stoves. There wasn’t much firewood up in the tundra. We did some fishing, but mostly we took all our own food in with us. Saw all kinds of wildlife, including a grizzly bear with her cubs. I enjoyed watching the muskox. They loved to play on the sides of the slopes, run back and forth in groups. They’re huge animals. I stood about twenty feet away from one; he looked at me, I looked at him and he just ambled off. I got inspired to write some songs on those trips, which are some of the most glorious experiences I ever had.”

https://www.carpentertheologian.com/...t-part-2-of-3/

I ain’t the kind to hang around

With any new love that I’ve found

Since movin is my stock ‘n trade,

I’m moving on I won’t think of you when I’m gone…

I’ve got a hundred more like you, so don’t be blue

I’ll have a thousand ‘fore I’m through
For Lovin’ Me/Did She Mention My Name, ©1966, 1968, 1975 by Gordon Lightfoot

The cold, detached state-of-mind reflected in the lyrics above may have been part of what made Lightfoot famous; however, his actions consistent with this authentic expression of his soul took a devastating toll on his family. In the real world, cheating spouses and dead-beat dads don’t make us laugh like the character Reese Bobby, Ricky’s Bobby’s father, in Talladega Nights. They bring pain and hurt of the worst kind.

We can learn a lot from Lightfoot about “how not to be”—especially toward our wives and children. On his third marriage, he has six children that we know of. “…(In the Seventies, he was also briefly in a relationship with Cathy Smith, who was with John Belushi on the night he overdosed.) You wonder if all those relationships come rushing back when he sings songs he wrote about those situations — ‘If You Could Read My Mind,’ for instance, is about the collapse of his first marriage in the late Sixties.”[1]

Happiest on the road, Lightfoot’s “long absences… not to mention his infidelities—had ruined his [first] marriage and put distance between him and his kids.” On this Lightfoot reflects, “Have you ever had your son look at you with an accusation that you walked out on him?’” Jennings, his biographer, concludes: “Thrilling through it was, being in constant motion took a toll that Lightfoot would have to live with all his life.”[2]

Regret is a common theme in his music. For example, in his song “Second Cup of Coffee,” he confesses to sleep that is “filled with dreaming of the wrongs that I have done/ And the gentle sweet reminder of a daughter and a son.”

The daughter referenced is Ingrid, his oldest from his first marriage. She finally asked him to stop singing “For Lovin’ Me:” “I didn’t want him to sing it, because it made me angry… I knew it was about my mom. It‘s pretty self-explanatory. ‘I’m not the kind to hang around’ and ‘the new love that I’ve found.’ My dad was going through a lot of women. My mom didn’t need to be reminded of that.”[3]

06-20-2023, 08:14 AM	#92
charlene Moderator Join Date: May 2000 Posts: 16,001	Re: R.I.P Gord https://www.carpentertheologian.com/...DWwDWvnVDronFU Carpenter Theologian Blog Home BLOG What I Learned from Gordon Lightfoot, 1 of 3 What I Learned from Gordon Lightfoot n honor of Gordon Lightfoot’s passing on Monday night at 84 (a year older than my dad), I’m reposting this first part of a three-part series I wrote in 2020. My deepest sympathies to his family, fans, and friends. And I’m so grateful my son Tim and I got to see him live last year on April 5th in Phoenixville, PA. If you could read my mind, love, What a tale my thoughts could tell. If You Could Read My Mind, ©1969 by Gordon Lightfoot I know it had little to do with the fact that “his debut album… came out on United Artists in January 1966,” the same month and year I was born.[1] Still, there are few artists I’ve enjoyed, resonated with, and been influenced by more than Gordon Lightfoot. Among other things, I share a connection with Presbyterianism, small-town roots, a commitment to authenticity, and a delight in the wildness of nature. I was introduced to Lightfoot’s music at seventeen by a friend, mentor, and another excellent singer-songwriter and guitarist, Richard Fuller. And for those who don’t know, Gordon Lightfoot was one of the brightest stars of the folk music genre, famous especially for his strong use of emotion, the consistently “high quality of his compositions,” and a band that featured Terry Clements’ amazing guitar work. A rugged Canadian with a huge talent, drive, and work ethic, I’ve identified with Lightfoot’s exquisite songs about “nature and love and the refined natural beauty of living.” For good and, at times, for ill (more on that next week), Lightfoot’s songs were a balm to my repressive upbringing, inhibited soul, and the depression—anger turned inward—and cynicism I carried with me for a good part of my life. I found an honesty, humanness, and celebration of the goodness of creation (Gen. 1:31) in his expressions that I rarely experienced in the church. In his very accessible biography (my favorite read from 2018), Nicholas Jennings notes that: “Lightfoot did have a strong Presbyterian, almost Calvinist streak, in him. He professed not to be religious, but having grown up in a small Ontario town where churches and Protestant thinking dominated, he always held himself to a strict moral code. Throughout his life, Lightfoot faced issues of sin, redemption and repentance—and when reflecting on himself actually thought in those biblical terms. Guilt, a somewhat strange concept in the decadent world of rock and roll, would weigh heavily on him throughout his life as he judged whether he was a good husband, father or son.”[2] Gordon and his fellow singer-songwriter and friend Joni Mitchell shared this “survivalist notion” to never go back to the “restraints” and “narrow-minded disapproval” of their childhood. Joni’s ex-husband, Chuck Mitchell, observed that this “was one of Joni’s main drives and I think Gordon’s too.”[3] Yet his career took off in large part because he retained the genuineness of those small-town roots: “In an age of the ‘super cool,’ he digs deep into the warmth of the heart to relate some basic feelings about human longing and desire.’ Once embarrassed about his unpolished small-town ways, Lightfoot was finding that his lack of artifice had become an asset.”[4] Lightfoot also gave me a love for history and place. Songs like Canadian Railroad Trilogy, Don Quixote, and The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald still bring legends to life. Many of his songs champion the beauty of the wilderness, the sea, or majestic creatures like the Blue whale. Some celebrate simple things like listening to music, a winter’s night, hard work and courage, or Rainy Day People. Others tell tales of regret, love—including illicit affairs, addiction to alcohol, and life on the road. Throughout his prime, Lightfoot relied on rigorous “marathon outings to work off what he called his ‘spare tire’ from heavy drinking.” One example is when he took “a physically challenging 673-mile canoe trip on the Back River of Canada’s Northwest Territories… the country’s twentieth longest river and the most demanding of the eleven wilderness trips that he did.” This trip was especially “grueling because of the large portages” he and his five partners had to make with their two canoes. Here’s Lightfoot’s personal account of this trip—one of my favorites from Jenning’s biography: “We were icebound on the Back River, at a place called Beechey Lake. We weren’t able to travel through certain lakes because they’d be plugged with ice. We carried the canoes ten miles one day, after which there was another three-mile portage. So we ended up portaging thirteen miles—the longest I ever did. We figured we’d stop at the ten-mile point, camp and continue in the morning. But we got such a head of steam that we did the whole thing. It only got dark about one hour each night, so we kept going. It was really, really hard work. Some of the portages on that trip were filled with mud and mire and mush and we had to lift the canoes sideways in order to get through some of that stuff. We got involved in some stretches of river where we traveled eight miles but only wound up going one mile. It’s called a serpentine. We had two tents for camping, and we’d cook with small mountaineering gas stoves. There wasn’t much firewood up in the tundra. We did some fishing, but mostly we took all our own food in with us. Saw all kinds of wildlife, including a grizzly bear with her cubs. I enjoyed watching the muskox. They loved to play on the sides of the slopes, run back and forth in groups. They’re huge animals. I stood about twenty feet away from one; he looked at me, I looked at him and he just ambled off. I got inspired to write some songs on those trips, which are some of the most glorious experiences I ever had.” https://www.carpentertheologian.com/...t-part-2-of-3/ I ain’t the kind to hang around With any new love that I’ve found Since movin is my stock ‘n trade, I’m moving on I won’t think of you when I’m gone… I’ve got a hundred more like you, so don’t be blue I’ll have a thousand ‘fore I’m through For Lovin’ Me/Did She Mention My Name, ©1966, 1968, 1975 by Gordon Lightfoot The cold, detached state-of-mind reflected in the lyrics above may have been part of what made Lightfoot famous; however, his actions consistent with this authentic expression of his soul took a devastating toll on his family. In the real world, cheating spouses and dead-beat dads don’t make us laugh like the character Reese Bobby, Ricky’s Bobby’s father, in Talladega Nights. They bring pain and hurt of the worst kind. We can learn a lot from Lightfoot about “how not to be”—especially toward our wives and children. On his third marriage, he has six children that we know of. “…(In the Seventies, he was also briefly in a relationship with Cathy Smith, who was with John Belushi on the night he overdosed.) You wonder if all those relationships come rushing back when he sings songs he wrote about those situations — ‘If You Could Read My Mind,’ for instance, is about the collapse of his first marriage in the late Sixties.”[1] Happiest on the road, Lightfoot’s “long absences… not to mention his infidelities—had ruined his [first] marriage and put distance between him and his kids.” On this Lightfoot reflects, “Have you ever had your son look at you with an accusation that you walked out on him?’” Jennings, his biographer, concludes: “Thrilling through it was, being in constant motion took a toll that Lightfoot would have to live with all his life.”[2] Regret is a common theme in his music. For example, in his song “Second Cup of Coffee,” he confesses to sleep that is “filled with dreaming of the wrongs that I have done/ And the gentle sweet reminder of a daughter and a son.” The daughter referenced is Ingrid, his oldest from his first marriage. She finally asked him to stop singing “For Lovin’ Me:” “I didn’t want him to sing it, because it made me angry… I knew it was about my mom. It‘s pretty self-explanatory. ‘I’m not the kind to hang around’ and ‘the new love that I’ve found.’ My dad was going through a lot of women. My mom didn’t need to be reminded of that.”[3]