Dedicated to remembering how it was “back then”, and Tales about the Eel River Valley, and the wisdom of the people that live there. With a big emphasis on; “Language has never been about correctness, it has always been about communicating”. We live in one small bubble of place and time that peace is thought of as ideal, we should revel in it! We cant judge what happened in history by who we are now.
Wednesday, January 30, 2013
If you still love me...
I have had a particularly GOOD day today, I found the keys that I had lost, I found the ticket to a party that I had lost, and several other really good things happened. Some days are just like that, you can fall face-first into a cow-pie and come up smelling like a rose. Today was one of those days, so, I feel inspired to write a paragraph or two. Then, I got to thinking, it’s been so long since I wrote anything, maybe nobody wants to read anything anymore.
In the Wild West, back when there weren’t too many rules of etiquette, there was a test to test how welcome you were in the bunk house or the saloon. You would throw your hat in through the doorway. The condition the hat came back out the doorway told you how welcome that you were inside. If they threw your hat back out clean it meant that you were welcome inside. If your hat came back out stomped on it meant that you were probably going to be frowned upon. If the hat came back out torn up it meant that you would be stepping into a fight inside. If your hat came back out with a bullet hole through it, it meant that you might be better-off to get back on your horse and keep riding.
I got to thinking about how information was passed back in history, back before text messages, back to when the pace was slower. Back when you weren’t given the gratification of instant information, like we have nowadays. Sometimes it would take a pony express rider a day, or even two, to deliver a letter. So, information moved slower back then. The old-timers would leave messages, like a stick leaning against a tree might mean “we’re not home right now, so don’t spend all day riding out to the ranch house”. Information was crude but functional. I got to thinking about the old song, “Tie a Yellow Ribbon ‘round the Old Oak Tree”. I started wondering where that expression came from. I’m sure that you’ve heard the song, made famous mostly by Tony Orlando and Dawn;
I'm comin' home, I've done my time
Now I've got to know what is and isn't mine
If you received my letter tellin' you I'd soon be free
Then you'll know just what to do if you still want me
If you still want me
CHORUS:
Tie a yellow ribbon 'round the old oak tree
It's been three long years Do you still want me?
If I don't see a ribbon round the old oak tree
I'll stay on the bus Forget about us Put the blame on me
If I don't see a yellow ribbon round the old oak tree
Bus driver, please look for me 'Cause I couldn't bear to see what I might see
I'm really still in prison, and my love she holds the key
A simple yellow ribbon's what I need to set me free
I wrote and told her this:
REPEAT CHORUS
Now the whole damn bus is cheering
And I can't believe I see
A hundred yellow ribbons 'round the old oak tree
I'm comin' home I'm comin' home, I've done my time
Now I've got to know what is and isn't mine
If you received my letter tellin' you I'd soon be free
Then you'll know just what to do if you still want me
CHORUS:
Tie a yellow ribbon 'round the old oak tree
It's been three long years
Do you still want me?
If I don't see a ribbon round the old oak tree
I'll stay on the bus Forget about us
Put the blame on me
If I don't see a yellow ribbon round the old oak tree
Bus driver, please look for me
'Cause I couldn't bear to see what I might see
I'm really still in prison, and my love she holds the key
A simple yellow ribbon's what I need to set me free
I wrote and told her this:
REPEAT CHORUS
Now the whole damn bus is cheering
And I can't believe I see
A hundred yellow ribbons 'round the old oak tree
I'm comin' home
So, I thought that I would tell you where the expression might have come from, who really knows, history has many tales, some even true.
The story of yellow ribbons goes back centuries. The Puritans wore yellow ribbon and yellow sashes onto the battlefield in the English Civil War. It is thought that the yellow ribbon tradition came to America with the Puritans. During the American Civil War women would wear yellow ribbons as a sign of faithfulness to their beloved that had gone off to fight in the war.
There is another story that I remember reading a long time ago about a white ribbon of forgiveness. I looked it up. ( I told you that this was my lucky day ) As luck would have it, I found the complete story on Wikipedia, so I copied and pasted it here. (Get out your hankies, this will make even to toughest person moisten up)
. …"A friend of his happened to be sitting in a railroad coach next to a young man who was obviously depressed. Finally the young man revealed that he was a paroled convict returning from a distant prison. His imprisonment had brought shame to his family, and they had neither visited him nor written often. He hoped, however, that this was only because they were too poor to travel and too uneducated to write. He hoped, despite the evidence that they had forgiven him. To make it easy for them, however, he had written to them asking that they put up a signal for him when the train passed their little farm on the outskirts of town. If his family had forgiven him, they were to put up a white ribbon in the big apple tree which stood near the tracks. If they didn't want him to return, they were to do nothing, and he would remain on the train as it traveled onward. As the train neared his hometown, the suspense became so great that he couldn’t bear to look out of his window. He exclaimed, “In just five minutes the engineer will sound the whistle indicating our approach to the long bend which opens into the valley I know as home. Will you watch for the apple tree at the side of the track?” His companion said he would; they exchanged places. The minutes seemed like hours, but then there came the shrill sound of the train whistle. The young man asked, “Can you see the tree? Is there a white ribbon?” Came the reply, “I see the tree. I see not one white ribbon, but many. There is a white ribbon on every branch. Son, someone surely does love you.”
So, just for old time sake, I tied a yellow ribbon on the top of this blog. I surely do miss the good times that we have had on this blog.
ERNIE