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Dear John: We’re gonna miss you

| April 10, 2020 1:00 AM

Rolling Stone called him “one of America’s great songwriters.” Yet many of America’s great song lovers don’t even know the name John Prine.

Pity. The mailman from Maywood, Ill., died this week at 73, a casualty of COVID-19 complications.

You can still look him up, and if you’ve got a computer, you can listen to his songs and watch him perform some of them. No time or not interested enough? Then at least know that according to Rolling Stone, the two-time Grammy winner “for five decades wrote rich, plain-spoken songs that chronicled the struggles and stories of everyday working people and changed the face of modern American roots music...”

Here are the lyrics to one of those songs, which seems particularly appropriate on a warm and sunny Good Friday in the midst of a pandemic.

By John Prine

I been thinking lately about the people I meet

The carwash on the corner and the hole in the street

The way my ankles hurt with shoes on my feet

I’m wondering if I’m gonna see tomorrow

Father forgive us for what we must do

You forgive us and we’ll forgive you

We’ll forgive each other ‘til we both turn blue

And we’ll whistle and go fishing in heaven

I was in the army but I never dug a trench

I used to bust my knuckles on a monkey wrench

I’d go to town and drink and give the girls a pinch

I don’t think they ever even noticed me

Fish and whistle, whistle and fish

Eat everything that they put on your dish

When we get through we’ll make a big wish

That we never have to do this again, again? again?

On my very first job I said thank-you and please

They made me scrub a parking lot down on my knees

Then I got fired for being scared of bees

And they only give me fifty cents an hour

Fish and whistle, whistle and fish

Eat everything that they put on your dish

When we get through we’ll make a big wish

That we never have to do this again, again? again?

We’ll whistle and go fishing in heaven

We’ll whistle and go fishing in heaven

A sheriff and state representative from the North Idaho hinterlands put on their renegade masks and defy good sense and a state mandate.

Maybe they’re doing the best they can.

A local doctor lets ‘er rip, saying what many conscientious citizens are thinking but perhaps going too far, having pledged an oath.

He’s probably doing the best he can.

Most of us had never seen isolation an inch from our nose. We fear for our physical and fiscal futures. Common sense isn’t suddenly so common.

Everybody’s doing the best they can. Right now, that’s got to be good enough.