an unseen force
they walk the streets by day
and by night.
their home upon the back
a pack to go.
ready to blow.
you don’t see them
but they’re always there.
their’s is to strike fear
in our hearts
for they no longer care
if they live or die.
why would they care about you?
Here it is…finally.
All beautifully edited, organized and ready for your viewing pleasure.
Vernon & I have been recording these mini videos for over a year now…they are funny, No! they are downright hilarious.
They were, still are our way of dealing with the hard times. They bring a lot of smiles to a lot of faces too.
We knew that once we were able to invest in a laptop, I could go to town putting them together. In the form of short films each documenting our lives together while facing the challenges of houselessness, severe economic downturn yet falling completely, madly and utterly in love with one another. We are inseparable. A creative force bouncing ideas back and forth between us all day long. Each wanting the other to be the best person they could possibly be.
Vernon showing out gloriously for me. Me, behind my omnipresent camera, ardently filming his every joke, his daily human encounters…his celebration of life by uniting people with humor. His uncanny knack of diffusing any situation with much laughter. Much laughter. His ability to tell a story, sing a song…to pull you, the listener completely in. Just as though you are right there.
I wanted to show the world this amazing talent, this man of sharp and clever wit…this awesome performer who brings such joy to all he meets, everyday.
I wanted to make Vernon Rust the movie star he deserved to be….
a chill,
chill crawls over me.
all over
my back,
my neck,
my face.
I’d seen,
seen the look
of innocence,
of lie,
of cheat
and steal.
a big dose
of real,
realization
it’s not for me.
It’s not about you.
It’s not what
you up to?
It’s the not,
not knowing
that hurts.
a cold
cut slap
of meat,
meets meat
across
a foolish face.
you know when its right.
the answer to a decision
churned over and over again
in your mind.
throughout the night,
troubling you all day.
distracting from
your routine.
the heart has told you
long ago and
many times
whats right.
but your mind needs
to catch up.
its that much a dilemma.
a fork in a road…
a wrong turn,
turned right.
solar flare by bird 2012
Anyone who knows or has spent anytime around me is all too familiar with my passionate revolutionary spirit and love of debate.
Having spent 25 years in the profession of nursing, I have basically seen it all and a lot you wouldn’t want to.
Quite frankly, my crash and burn from arguably the noblest of devotions to duty and my God-given calling on this planet was because of precisely that. I really did…’I cared, too much’ and its an impossible way for one of God’s humble servants to live…
I was a terrified teenager when the docs in England finally decided to remove my tonsils. I suffered countless days sick from school, extremely happy to be on the settee at home, reading fiction, comic books and the works of Hardy, Orwell, Longfellow and Laura Ingalls Wilder…
Already my curiosity and love for American history , life and culture was very evident for I found myself engrossed more and more in American literature…Faulkner, Hemingway and Fitzgerald…
So the night before surgery, a dedicated caring, forever youthful third year student nurse took me under her wing and kept me busy helping make tea, talk to other patients and distracting my neurotic countenance from having a downright meltdown there on the ENT ward…
I do not remember her name, but at the age of 18, I proudly announced to my Mum that I wanted to go in to nursing.
After, she spluttered tea and a horrified ‘what?’ at me, I kinda saw her point. She had to spend countless hours calming me down, talking me out of a panic attack, a child riddled with good old garden variety agoraphobia (of which my grandmother suffered) and specifically emetophobia (a dark secret I have kept to myself and one that really cramps your party going style!).
But, ”Helen” she said “you’re so squeamish, how will you cope as a nurse?”
I never could answer that but confronting my fear, irrational or completely rational (you be the judge!) certainly helped and I thrived on helping and caring for others for many years.
My nursing experience and knowledge made it possible to travel to America and I worked at Florida Hospital in Orlando for many years.
I specialized in pediatric oncology nursing and developed a thirst for continued learning and research about better, safer treatments, symptom control and cures.
It wasn’t long after entering the US to nurse that I started to witness a trend towards the over prescription of medication, tests and procedures by doctors…
The world of pediatric oncology proved to be the only exception with the documented improvement in cure rates and survivorship programs. So, naturally it was a field where I felt I could honestly and with a clear conscious, care for my patients and their families.
Otherwise, we’re out there, legions of nurses, techs, aides…chasing our tails; drawing blood, over medicating, over testing and preparing elderly people (or any age for that matter) for crazy procedures and surgeries…
It’s exhausting…try a 12 hour shift on a saturday night. Anywhere…the pediatric unit, the emergency room, psychiatry, geriatrics…
You would not believe the psychological impact on a 50-60 hour a week, night nurse from a little town outside of London! Folks, it wore me OUT…
So when Vernon returned to the car this morning, smiling broadly about the headlines of the Tennessean today : ‘patients need less testing, treatment doctors say…’ www.tennessean.com
…it was in beautiful acknowledgement of my rant earlier on this week about countless painful and costly procedures and surgeries and the fact that many have suffered because of the greed of the medical establishment.
Oh! and I know, I have heard it umpteen times from the doctors…’well, we have to cover every angle’, ‘what if the patient sues?’ ‘we have to rule that out’ and ‘what about missing something, how about mal practice?’…
and believe me, even though they look like they know what they are doing, act like it, seem to give-a-damn,
Don’t be fooled…
Hmmmm….do you really want me to start talking about the medical mistakes I’ve seen? Probably not and I choose not to dwell on the innumerable, avoidable, unavoidable and downright tragic…
Instead when I think about my nursing years, I try to concentrate and reflect on the joy of caring for children, working side by side with outstanding pediatric oncology practitioners, seeing the positive results of my work and dedication …
But tucked right behind all those warm and fulfilling memories is the fact that healthcare reform in America is a VERY long time coming…
H. Bird
(ex-RN and former IV drug user) now spends her time livin’ laughin’ and lovin’ the arts, namely writing, drawing and photography…
addendum:
I wanted to share with you my favourite of all poetry by Longfellow ‘A Psalm of Life’
What the Heart of the Young Man Said to the Psalmist
Tell me not, in mournful numbers, "Life is but an empty dream!" For the soul is dead that slumbers, And things are not what they seem. Life is real! Life is earnest! And the grave is not its goal; "Dust thou art, to dust returnest, " Was not spoken of the soul. Not enjoyment, and not sorrow, Is our destined end or way; But to act, that each to-morrow Finds us farther than to-day. Art is long, and Time is fleeting, And our hearts, though stout and brave, Still, like muffled drums, are beating Funeral marches to the grave. In the world's broad field of battle, In the bivouac of Life, Be not like dumb, driven cattle! Be a hero in the strife! Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant! Let the dead Past bury its dead! Act,--act in the living Present! Heart within, and God o'erhead! Lives of great men all remind us We can make our lives sublime, And, departing, leave behind us Footprints on the sands of time; Footprints, that perhaps another, Sailing o'er life's solemn main, A forlorn and shipwrecked brother, Seeing, shall take heart again. Let us, then, be up and doing, With a heart for any fate; Still achieving, still pursuing Learn to labor and to wait.
our friend curt brewer is such an awesome drummer.
he’s crazy great to watch on stage, I just have a blast and forever blown away by his energy and passion ala keith moon.
vernon’s pretty smooth and swampy, and I just might be a wee bit biased…
<warriors together>
this happens to be one hecka great night
filmed by thegraffitihunter.com
with River Dan joining ‘we need a lot more Jesus’
with an awesome lead guitar/harmonicas
>>>>>>>>>><<<<<<<<<<
and this happens to be one heck of a day
to tell the world about
Broken Boat Records
Vernon Rust
Nashville, TN
but it’s a mobile outfit
‘we just follow the love
and spread the word’
So what prompted the recording of this fascinating documentary about one man?
One man who came to Nashville 25 years ago with a boat load of songwriting ideas and a sub conscious vision of having an influence on country music. Or on the recording industry for that matter…
Nashville had most certainly changed over the years and as my personal guide, historian and street companion, Vernon spent our homeless summer telling me all about country music people, the places, the recording studios on Music Row, his experiences….good and bad.
He reflected on what used to be, what once was and what no longer is…
Much has changed since the advent of the internet.
Since the proliferation of personal computers.
LP’s became cassettes…became CD’s…became downloads and unfortunately it all morphed in to file sharing…
Music became barely intangible…
Sadly, and to quote Vernon “you can’t wake up Christmas morning and find a download in your Christmas stocking….”
Illegal downloads whittled away at talented royalty cheques. They ensured that the most important people behind that awesome song you love to listen to on your Ipod, mp3 player, your laptop… is definitely not paid for his work. For his creation. For his idea.
This summer we visited the closed up studios and offices along Music Row. So many musicians, songwriters, technicians left with nothing to do but find a job, earn a paycheck, try to survive…in a rapidly changing business and city.
In Nashville, many (having come here from all over the country) wound up on the streets, their hopes and dreams of making it in the music industry vanished for good…
Vernon’s never vanished. He always believed in his music.
His songs became a dormant volcano, just waiting to erupt in popularity and figure out a way to beautifully infiltrate our technologically driven lives…
What I learned about Vernon though, is that he never lost his love of and belief in people.
Even when life had seemingly beaten him down.
Sometimes because of others, admittedly through his own faults.
His sense of humor kept him going, a constant lifeboat on a dodgy raft. One that has seen him through many a storm.
Most importantly, in my opinion he has songs to share with the world. Music that he is driven to share, with all walks of life.
He draws on his lifetime experiences, both hardships and joys and turns his emotions in to songs that we can all relate to.
His lyrics know no boundaries.
His songs are timeless pieces, more relevant today than when they were born years ago.
Stories about the hard cold life of reality,
of the changes in town when the factory closed down,
of the love we had even though our family was poor and how upon ‘looking back we were the rich kids, after all’,
of how ‘We need a lot more Jesus and a lot less of everything else’.
He currently has young artists such as Scotty McCreery, David Nail and Adam Brand recording and performing his songs.
Rising stars that weren’t even born when Vernon’s lyrics and music were conceived.
I will never forget the morning I found out Scotty McCreery was to include ‘walk in the country’ on his debut album.
The latest winner of American Idol, a young man with a rich, velvety smooth voice and stellar stage presence, wanted to sing my man’s song, a Vernon Rust song!
And sing it so well, too! I ran upstairs, where Vernon was asleep and did something I should never in a million years do, I woke him up….
“Hey, Scotty McCreery is gonna record ‘walk in the country’ for his album ‘Clear as day’”.
Sleepily,Vernon murmured and with very little excitement ‘Hmmmm, so…who is Scotty?’ ‘some local club singer?’ and then added ‘that’s good’ basically meaning ‘let me go back to sleep honey’.
I proceeded to bug him….tripping over words ABOUT how freakin’ wonderful this is, how he had better get up and BE excited! Scotty is HOT. He’s arguably the best winner, ever, of the very popular TV show.
I went on to get him up to full steam on Facebook. To re-connect him with friends from his past. Friends that very much wanted to help him with his future.
John Perkins had tried to find Vernon two years earlier by writing to him via everyone’s favourite social network.
Thankfully, John is a patient man.
He also happens to be a lifelong believer in Vernon’s music too.
The filming of Nashville Wild Child documentary
with Scott Floyd Crain, Vernon Rust, John Perkins
Nashville, September 2011
photo: Helen Bird
Filming of Nashville Wild Child documentary
John Perkins, Scott Floyd Crain, Vernon Rust
Nashville September 2011
photo: Helen Bird
……to be continued
Please click on the above link for more information about the documentary ‘Nashville Wild Child – The Vernon Rust Story’ and to make a donation towards the production of Vernon’s highly entertaining and poignant story…
Now I would never in a million years claim to be an aficionado on great music. Neither would I say I’m a huge fan of country music. But I know what I like and I most certainly like what I know.
Recently I got to see behind the scenes of the making of a documentary titled ‘Nashville Wild Child – The Vernon Rust story’. It is a film about the man, the song writer that has become such a huge part of my life this year.
I first met Vernon when I moved to Nashville December 2010. I came here reluctantly and really with nowhere else to go, my life at a distinct crossroads with some definite changes to be made. Vernon happened to rent a room upstairs and he appeared Christmas morning, armed with his beautiful, unique and one-of-a- kind green guitar. I had already been told that he was one of the best songwriters in Nashville. What I heard that morning certainly backed that statement up.
Vernon is credited with having discovered and assisted in the making of country music’s very own Keith Urban. The two had written together nearly all of Urban’s first US album release ‘The Ranch’. An album that many fans claim to be Urban’s best with songs like ‘Walk in the country’, ‘Homespun love’ and ‘ Desiree’.
For whatever reasons, the two parted company. Urban went on to a very successful career in country music and Rust slipped in to relative obscurity, enjoying over time the income from smaller and smaller royalty checks. He hid himself away, rarely performed and lived life on the razor thin edge of poverty.
So what was a hugely talented singer/songwriter doing hiding in a fairly run down rooming house in Southern Hills, Nashville? Trying very hard to not pawn his unique guitar, for one and trying to survive on the erratic income from frozen meat sales.
What I encountered that Christmas morning were some of the most awesome songs I had ever heard. They flowed like beautiful, sometimes sad but forever hopeful rivers of human emotion and experience. They sung like stories.
Stories shared by couples falling in and out of love. And finding love again.
Stories that are sung to children at bed time.
He had my attention…
And I met a man who has become my lifelong friend, companion, mentor and inspiration…
Check back real soon for my blog – Nashville Wild Child Part II…
I awoke this morning thinking about what to write. My last few blogs have been a bit fluffy…’Ooo, priceless moments, happy people’. Having spent the past summer kinda down-on-my-luck, struggling and well, lets face it, basically homeless, the subject has grown very near and dear to me.
I have always,and I mean always since I can remember felt for the poor, the downtrodden, the side of society that most do not see or wish they didn’t.
A homeless woman said to me this summer “my dad threw a bright lime green t-shirt at me for Christmas and said ‘here, go get yourself noticed’” She had spent much time in a coma following a car accident and subsequent head injury. The tracheostomy scar still noticeable on her throat. A constant hoarseness to her voice as a reminder. She lifted her shirt and showed me the tube feeding scars on her belly.
Having run away from an abusive drunk boyfriend (and I suspect father) she lived by the seat of her pants, from city to city. Hustling for food, hitchhiking rides, bumming smokes….
Her voice trailed off when she told me the story of the lime green t-shirt. Her eyes became distant, her internal pain became externally palpable. She mumbled “but Dad, I spend all of my time trying not to be noticed”. “When you’re homeless, no one wants to notice you and no one sees you”.
People talked to me on the streets. So I utilized my idle, homeless time wisely and listened to them…
Most just wanted someone to listen, someone who cared enough to hear their story…
They had heard plenty from the fed and clothed and comfortably off, saying…
‘Oh, they choose to be that way. They have no worries, no responsibilities. They are lazy drunks, beggars, dirty.’
What I heard was…
“I’d go home if I had one…..”
They had wound up on the streets for a variety of reasons; job loss, bankruptcy, loss of a loved one, estrangement from family, drugs and alcohol, post combat situations…including life’s battle.
I met a fascinating cross-section of humanity. An intelligent, bright and resourceful group that included many artists, musicians, writers. A community of souls that generally look out for one another, help each other, try to get by from day-to-day.
I never felt threatened.
I always felt appreciated.
More importantly I felt accepted, even with a camera.
I was allowed in to their world because they wanted someone to listen, someone who cared.
I learned valuable life lessons this summer. Lessons that I have waited my whole life for. Things I knew already, but I didn’t really and honestly know.
I had to lose it all before I realized I had everything.
‘There is a greater army that besets us round with strife,
a starving, numberless army at all the gates of life.
The poverty-stricken millions who challenge our wine and bread,
and impeach us all as traitors both the living and the dead.
And whenever I sit at the banquet, where the feast and song are high.
Amid the mirth and music, I can hear that fearful cry.
And hollow and haggard faces look in to the lighted hall,
And wasted hands are extended to catch the crumbs that fall.
And within there is light and plenty and odors fill the air;
But without there is cold and darkness and hunger and despair.
And there in the camp of famine in wind and cold and rain
Christ, the great Lord of the Army, lies dead upon the plain.”
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow ‘ The Challenge
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