Before Baez

This song has been around for awhile and I vaguely remember any solid memory after 1982 that this song would of evoked; however at a camp I was enrolled to stay in for two weeks back in 1979 at the young precocious age of 13, I remember this song well. It was accompanied by a early-twentiesh girl named Sue who called herself 'Tanner' playing an acoustic guitar close to the Chet Atkins style, a western motif graced its neck and flat belly.

Her voice was very low even for a woman but 'Tanner' broke into tears almost while she sang and strummed her guitar, I was really moved. The song itself is sad beyond anything short of miserable lonliness and desertion. When I heard the lyrics I was catapulted into instant guilt for picking flowers that were supposed to wait for full bloom; I was supposed to mourn those that served to protect our country from harm; I was encouraged to find fields of wildflowers and make sure they were nurtured, not destroyed.

It almost seemed as if a purpose was being delivered by a group of young camp counselors trained in teaching young adolescents ways to improve how they live and what they live on. I was garteful my parents could afford the luxury of sending me and my youngest sibling to a camp for a small part of the summer holiday from school. It was a blessing. To be able to get involved with many different kinds of adolescents as fortunate as myself was something I owe my mother and father the world for.

Each of my parents and apparently the camp counselors too, wanted culture, stability, autonomy and independence to stem from being away from home and finding value in it while away. A camping experience can be tramautic for some; while an escape for many. Quite a few of the young ladies I shared a tent with had equal problems, more intense or less intense than what I experienced growing up, I could easily relate. We bonded at many levels and through many activities.

The most cherished activity was getting together in the evening when the sun had already gone to sleep over an hour ago and watching flames licking at sticks in bonfires. The tents were awaiting finally settling down for the night by exhausted campers, but my group, the eldest bunch about twelve, were not the least bit tired. So we stayed up with the camp counselors, who by now were wishing we had just gone into our tent and talked till dawn, 'cept for 'Tanner'. She loved us guys and gals and decided since we were out here with everybody older, we should get a taste of what twenties-life was like.

A round of applause and a stern look in her face and "where have all the flowers gone' came pouring out a cool down-to-earth lady I really found mesmerizing. I think it had alot to do with the fact that she embraced her freedom like one embraces money--very protective of. She was a quiet one until evening hour came along and then she shined. I learned from her that whatever you do make sure you do it with all you have. I learned from the lyrics and song to appreciate more than what you see and regard what you have lost as able to find again . . . if you just look hard enough.