I took the news of the passing of Rod McKuen with a lump of sadness. The hero poet of my coming-of-age years left a mark on my heart. His scratchy voice came through the stillness of a dorm room urging me to listen to the warm, to lean in to that wandering spirit, to dream of dandelion days. He spoke of sorrow and roving, of finding a place in this world with his turn of words that caused my heart to ponder, to feel deeply and kindly. He pulled childhood images from the air and wove them into tomes of adventure and longing. A Dr. Seuss for grown-ups.
Some snippets from his work that come to mind –
“My dog likes oranges, but he’ll eat apples, too.”
“No one wants to watch an old man catch the train.”
“And who was the one on Channing Way?”
“Your smile is only your smile or is it?
Maybe it’s one more opening into you that I should come through softly.”
Rod McKuen painted images of children running and laughing, of old gates rusting in the wind, of old men sitting in the park, the wind on your face, and the earth beneath your feet with his words. And when put to music, they reminded you of simple things, yet things which are not easily understood – who are we really? What is love? Where is home? What does it feel like to have someone trample your heart? Listening to his music, his way with words were like an invitation to life, and his passing is a reminder that we only have one life, that we must love deeply and appreciate the good things that come our way. You lived life well, Rod McKuen. And you helped us along the way to live it well, too.