Published by

K Mark Schofer

September Seventeen

For a girl I know it’s Mother’s Day

Here son has gone alee

And that’s where he will stay

Wind on the weathervane

Tearing blue eyes sailor-mean

As Falstaff sings a sorrowful refrain

For a boy in Fiddler’s Green

In 1990 singer/songwriter Gord Downie of the band The Tragically Hip wrote Fiddler’s Green in memory of his five year old nephew Charles who had died of a heart condition. He incorporated the legend of Fiddler’s Green into the song to help ease his sister’s fear of having to let her small son go on his way the afterlife alone without her.

In the old Irish legend, Fiddler’s Green was as a place where old sailors would go when they wearied of seafaring life. They would leave their ship with an oar over their shoulder and walk inland until they reached a village where people, unfamiliar with the sea, would ask them what it was that they carried over their shoulders. Sailors would be given a seat in the sun, a mug of grog that never ran out, an and could relax while the fiddlers played and maidens danced in the sunlight.

Hello,

I’m Mark

His friends observe Mark seems wired a little differently. Perhaps it’s more likely that noticing little things often missed by others is a relic of a quieter, simpler time. He has a way with words, which he refuses to let be hindered by sub-par typing skills. People have great stories to tell if you sit and listen.

A belief dear to Mark is that there is certain beauty in the world. You simply have to look for it.