I need to find Heather.
Why? Well, like all stories, this one has a beginning and it starts way back in college. My first encounter with creative writing occurred when I was trying to help a talented pianist, Mike Roth, do something with his original music. People in the industry at the time told us instrumentals wouldn’t sell, (George Winston had not happened yet). The music, they claimed, needed lyrics. So, you guessed it, I began writing lyrics. This turned out to be pretty cool for me, experiencing for the first time the magic of creativity, the words emerging from the music.
Ultimately after some concerts, demos, and even writing the score for a musical we correctly concluded we were amateurs trying to work in a world of professionals. So Mike went on to become a successful optometrist and I on to my own career.
No regrets though, in fact quite the opposite, because it was through that activity that I got to know and fall in love with my wife Susan, who worked closely with us on the music, including singing in the concerts and on the demos. My great good fortune is that she grew fond of me as well. One of life’s truly great mysteries.
But I missed that creative process and longed to find other ways to express it. So I tried poetry. That seemed logical, right? Not so much. I was and am horrible at writing poetry. That did not stop me from entering some contests. Often these poetry contests would send everyone who entered a short publication of the winners and runners-up etc.
In one of these around 1974 I noticed a poem that received an Honorable Mention. I loved the poem, and have kept it all these years. It’s entitled “I am so sorry sometimes” and was written by Heather Morgan.
Fast forward forty years, and I’m writing my third novel. Part of the theme of this story is a character who discovers he has lived all his life by the lights of other people, and realizes with regret that he has never decided for himself who he was and what he wanted
My muse tells me that some lines from that poem would fit very nicely at the beginning of this book, and in fact my muse insists that part of it could be the title.
Theses are the lines I want to use:
I am so sorry sometimes, That I am so old already,
That I never knew the magic, Never having been to Woodstock,
That I never quite knew freedom, Never having quite revolted,
That I never really understood things Never having really tried to,
That I never felt true joy Never having known deep sorrow,
That the clock is ticking, ticking, All the hours of my lifetime, And I am so sorry sometimes.
Pretty cool, right? But my problem is that I need her permission to use those lines. So how do I find someone who wrote a poem so many years ago? I no longer have the pamphlet or even remember which poetry contest put it out. There are many Heather Morgans in the social media world. Everyone I have tried to contact is much too young to have written this poem because, well, “I am so old already.”
So that’s my dilemma: how to find Heather.