X-From_: peggyj@ocslink.com Sun Aug 5 11:34:59 2001 From: "xxx" To: Subject: Franklyn Moments Date: Sun, 5 Aug 2001 13:38:25 -0500 X-Mailer: Microsoft Outlook Express 5.00.2919.6700 Alas, I have no news on where to find more tapes recorded off air of Franklyn MacCormack's radio show, but still I will make contact with you and say thanks for being there. You've made a Sunday brighter than the hot sun shining outside, you've brought back to me the reason I became a dreamer and thought it might alter the man with whom I reside. I let that resonant voice flow on throughout the night and fought to keep sleep from the darkness and let me believe that, next to me, his subconscious would pick up the thought. It never happened, yet I kept my hopes in the clouds above, I visited the Vagabond's House not often enough, Melody of Love, Why it's you that I love. We made a move and for a year the voice was kept far from me, It was heaven one night as I twisted the dial and my ears heard : "By a slow, broad river, deep and still, With a tall lone pine on guard nearby Where the birds can sing and the storm winds cry." I knew God was good, my heart filled quickly to capacity. Then some other voice came on and I was full a wake. This has been a tribute to the man of the night who taught us to close our eyes and sail away. He has no equal, he claimed no superiority, he was the captain of our sleeping hours and directed the ship to take us away to the land of serendipity. The man who lay next to me for more than twenty years never rose to heights ideal, where love is true and never dies. Almost another twenty has passed, but I shed no tears. Memories of Face on the Barroom Floor, a Vagabond's Tale, Melody of Love unquestioned and so much more Return to me as I close my eyes and hear it again and just as real. I was amazed at the number of men who sent you word of their respect and love of those romantic hours, and I mean romantic in the sense of adventure and chivalry. This man, with a voice so hypnotic, taught me well, of love in it's everyday meaning. He began his show and in the fall of that year, I was married and prayed that the man I chose to love would be all those things. Alas, he was mortal, while I became a dreamer and never was ashamed of being so. I taught one son to be such and his bride is still amazed. My body has caused me to be set apart from the rest of the world but fate saw that I have a computer so I write romantic tales in a way that he would approve. The passion of love is not only in the hearts of the humble and dear, but also in the hearts with blackened scars. Love is there and never dies. I thank all powers that started my search today and brought me to your site. I sigh and watch The Enchanted Cottage, or On Golden Pond, and know I was once taught how love should feel. Since I am restricted to spend much time alone, it's good to feel others out there learned his lessons too. He taught us to enjoy the carefully laid words and harmony within many forms of music. Most of all he gave us those Meisterbrau hours when we fought off sleep, and failed to hear: "But, ah! my dream is broken by a step upon the stair, And the door is softly opened, and-my wife is standing there: Yet with eagerness and rapture all my visions I resign,- To greet the living presence of that old sweetheart of mine." (Do you, by any chance, remember a DJ (on WMAQ I think) called Saxey Dowell. I believe he left and went to Denver or somewhere out west in a mountainous state. He played the innocent early tunes of Rock and Roll along with regular pop, but on a station one didn't think of as "cool".. Ah, well.) Respectfully yours, Peggy J Simmons peggyj@ocslink.com