Lotta Comments

I heard from several of my reader (Hi Mom!) about my post on Social Distortion and When the Angels Sing. The predominant question was how in the world could I like that song. Truth? I'll put that song on loop and listen to it over and over and over and lose myself in it. One of the few songs that I can do that to. The only ones like that right now might be: Leo Kotke's Snorkel or Busted Bicycle . . . or Rocketman on solo piano. 

Regardless, what is it about When the Angels Sing that speaks to me?

I remember in Ranger School we had the opportunity to go to church every Sunday. No matter what else was going on, on Sunday I think they had to provide us the opportunity to worship. The chaplain would come out and it was one service for all for the most part. There was a bit of a communion I remember, and I think most of us went for the slice of white bread they gave out for communion. 

The chaplain realized this and was fine with it. I think he just enjoyed the opportunity to interact with the troops, even if they were starving and it was the white bread that brought them. 

Some glad morning when this life is over

I'll fly away

To a home on God's celestial shore

I'll fly away

I'll fly away, oh, Glory

I'll fly away

When I die, Hallelujah, by and by

I'll fly away

Just a few more weary days and then

I'll fly away

To a land where joy shall never end

I'll fly away

I'll fly away, oh, Glory

I'll fly away

When I die, Hallelujah, by and by

I'll fly away

Yeah, when I die, Hallelujah, by and by

I'll fly awayBut he actually banned a song during service. Every week our favorite song was the hymn "I'll Fly Away." Since the song is about the after life and death, the chaplain actually became worried that we were too focused on death and escaping the hardships of Ranger School through death. I think that's why I like When the Angels Sing. It's all about facing death and dealing with death. 

I remember Brainstorm the movie with Christopher Walken. It was a movie looking into that moment of death. I wonder how many other people have that same somewhat morbid fascination with passing on.