Whither the Watchman?
Atlanta, GA
July 6, 2021
Last week Rita and I once again had the nest to ourselves. Alexander was in Auburn, and David on a church retreat to the Appalachians of north Georgia. After a week in Alaska, those mountains must’ve seemed like molehills.
The house was quiet, which usually soothes others by leaving me little to write about. But in such stillness inspiration can often arise. Barren soil, unencumbered by competing seeds, frequently fertilizes fruitful thought.
Sometimes it sprouts from buried memories planted years before. On other occasions it may be from a book, or a movie, or a quote.
I once wrote about it coming from a song, that made me think of the past. This week it came from another, that makes me contemplate the future. Both urge us to make the most of the present.
Last year I recalled that whenever I hear Vienna by Billy Joel, I remember my mother’s friend who died too soon, and a dream for which she waited too long. What came for her comes for us all, and for all those we love…often sooner than we expect.
Gordon Lightfoot wrote The Watchman’s Gone in his mid-thirties. At that age, most of us think the veil separating this world from the next is pretty thick. Lightfoot might have thought that as well, but in this song he seemed prepared to be surprised.
The life of a famous musician can be rough, even if many of the wounds are self-inflicted. In his heyday, Gordon Lightfoot indulged all the perks and pitfalls of his considerable popularity. Death may lay over the horizon but, with what he enjoyed and endured, perhaps he saw the sun sinking fast.
Yet this song isn’t about depression or despair, but relief and release…whether while we’re here or when we’re gone. It recognizes death can come at any moment, that life can go at any time. And that we can be serene at the prospect of the one while being soothed by the promise of the other.
But we must make the most of what we have while we have it, after the watchman’s gone. Or before he goes. The lyrics leave us unclear about which we should be awaiting, or dreading. Yet we should be ready for each, at any moment.
This song no doubt bears many interpretations, and I may have over-reached for mine. Some may think the watchman is God…or sobriety…or fidelity…or fear…or shackles that keep us from enjoying life without, or despite, fear of its inevitable end.
Or maybe the watchman is merely an excuse, to be arraigned and indicted for our own failures. And that, whether we like it or not, we are accountable for our actions…no matter how tempting it is to ascribe circumstance to fate.
Great art bends to the lens through which it’s refracted. It’s fine to hear, see, and feel by our own light. Two people may thoroughly enjoy the same bottle of wine despite thinking it tastes entirely different.
This song is like that too. The words are pulled together like grapes to a vat, mixed with melody, and fermented into music. But the aspect, taste, and finish are a function of each person’s palate. It’s the terroir of experience and that gives meaning to the message. And that can change, depending how long it’s been laid down, or allowed to open up.
This week, for my own reasons, I’m drawn to an interpretation of The Watchman that caused me to listen to the song a few dozen times.
Depending on the perspective Lightfoot’s lyrics elicit, the watchman can inhibit or enable our enjoyment of life. At some point, he’ll tap each of us on the shoulder. We know not whether he’ll push us forward or hold us back.
Or if he’ll simply let us go.
JD
