Laid up with a severe case of gout this vacation week...

I watched much of the Reagan funeral coverage on TV Friday. As I mentioned in an earlier post, I didn't care much for Reagan's policies and programs while in office, but he had a gift of communication and imagry that you simply had to respect.

What really got me was as the casket was being loaded at Andrews AFB for the flight to his beloved California, the Air Force Band played the Largo from Dvorak's "New World Symphony", which was eventually matched with lyrics from on old Negro spiritual called "Going Home". When I heard that musical piece, I simply lost it all. Then when I read the lyrics earlier today, it hit all over again. The site of someone making his last journey to the home he so loved was simply too much, as it brought some of my own longings for my native Mississippi and times long past return to the surface.

These lyrics are simply remarkable, and best known in performance by the great African-American vocalist Paul Roebson:

Goin' Home

Goin' home, goin' home, I'm a goin' home;
Quiet-like, some still day, I'm jes' goin' home.
It's not far, jes' close by,
Through an open door;
Work all done, care laid by,
Gwine (or: Goin') to fear no more.

Mother's there 'spectin' me,
Father's waitin' too;
Lots o' folk gather'd there,
All the friends I knew,
All the friends I knew.
Home, I'm goin' home!

Nothin lost, all's gain,
No more fret nor pain,
No more stumblin' on the way,
No more longin' for the day,
Gwine (or Going) to roam no more!
Mornin' star lights the way,
Res'less dream all done;
Shadows gone, break o' day,
Real life jes' begun.
Dere's no break, ain't no end,
(or: There's no break, there's no end,)
Jes' a livin' on;
Wide awake, with a smile
Goin' on and on.

Goin' home, goin' home, I'm jes' goin' home,
It's not far, jes' close by
Through an open door.
I'm a goin' home,
I'm jes' goin'
Goin' home, goin' home, goin' home, goin' home, goin' home, goin' home!