Why “Sonny” Resonates Across Generations

Sometime this winter a recording of the song "Sonny" by the Irish folk singer Mary Black, accompanied by Emmylou Harris and Dolores Keane, ended up on my playlist. No matter how often I play this haunting melancholic song it touches me.  

"Sonny" (originally titled "Sonny's Dream") is a folk song written in 1976 by Canadian (Newfoundland) singer-songwriter Ron Hynes. In 1991 Mary Black recorded a highly popular version that appeared on her 1992 compilation album A Woman's Heart. Her rendition of this song helped make A Woman's Heart the best-selling album in Irish history (up till that point in time, surpassed in 1998 by David Gray's White Ladder), introducing it to a much wider international audience. 

Until researching the backstory, I was unfamiliar with Ron Hynes (1950–2015), who has been called “the man of a thousand songs” and was a cornerstone of Newfoundland folk music. Hynes wrote “Sonny’s Dream” while on a road trip with his band in western Canada. He based it on his uncle, Thomas “Sonny” O’Neill, who taught young Ron to play guitar and strongly encouraged him to pursue music professionally. 

The song draws from the real tensions in Hynes’ own life and Newfoundland culture: the pull between staying rooted in a rural, often isolated homeland (the “Rock”) and the lure of leaving for bigger dreams. It captures the emotional weight of family duty, emigration, and what’s left behind—common themes in both Newfoundland and Irish folk traditions. 

The track first appeared on recordings by Hynes’ band, The Wonderful Grand Band. It spread to Europe when Scottish folk artist Hamish Imlach heard it in Canada, made slight modifications, and performed it in British folk clubs. Christy Moore then brought it to Ireland, where Mary Black recorded her version (titled simply “Sonny”) with producer Dónal Lunny. That recording, with its haunting harmonies and gentle arrangement, became iconic in Ireland. 

Mary Black’s original single didn't include any vocal accompaniment. The collaborative version below with Emmylou Harris and Dolores Keane appeared on later releases.

The Long Echo of “Don’t Go Away”

The lyrics tell a poignant, multi-generational story in simple, poetic language. Here’s the full set (as recorded by Mary Black):

Sonny lives on a farm, in a wide open space

Take off your shoes, stay out of the race

Lay down your head, on a soft river bed

Sonny always remembers the words Mamma says.  

Chorus:

Sonny don’t go away, I’m here all alone

Your Daddy’s a sailor, never comes home,

Nights are so long, silence goes on,

I’m feeling so tired and not all that strong.  

Sonny works on the land, though he’s barely a man

There’s not much to do but he does what he can

Sits by his window in his room by the stairs

Watching the waves drifting soft on the pier.  

[Chorus repeats]  

Many years have rolled on, Sonny’s old and alone

His Daddy the sailor, never came home

Sometimes he wonders what his life might have been

But still from the grave Mamma's voice haunts his dreams.  

[Final chorus] 

It follows Sonny from youth to old age. His mother’s repeated plea—“Sonny don’t go away”—keeps him anchored to the family farm by the sea. His absent sailor father and the mother’s loneliness create a powerful sense of duty and guilt. Even after her death, her words echo, leaving Sonny to wonder about the roads not taken while remaining tied to home.

The more you listen, the more you find to think about. At the center is the tension between family duty and personal dreams, between chasing your own path and the responsibilities (and guilt) that come with staying to care for loved ones. Sonny’s life is an uneasy mix of quiet sacrifice and quiet regret.

A secondary theme has to to with how a mother’s words shape Sonny’s entire life—even from beyond the grave. It’s a reminder of how deeply our early family experiences can define (or limit) us. In my own life there many things my mother said that shaped me to a large extent. One of these was from John Greenleaf Whittier, "For all sad words of tongue and pen, the saddest are these, 'It might have been.'" Perhaps this was a motivating impetus to my trying so many things over the course of a lifetime. And perhaps this, at root, was what Sonny was struggling with.

Ironically, there are costs in whatever choices we make, whether staying or leaving. In Newfoundland and Irish contexts, this resonates with generations who faced emigration. The song doesn’t judge; it simply shows the emotional reality on both sides—the loneliness of those who stay behind and the quiet ache of those who remain.

On the other hand, how important is the rat race really? Lines like “Take off your shoes, stay out of the race” celebrate the peace of rural life even while acknowledging its constraints. The song invites reflection on what “success” really means.

Another feature of the song is the weight of loneliness. The mother’s vulnerability and Sonny’s eventual solitude highlight the universal human need for connection and the pain of abandonment (whether through death, absence, or leaving home). This year alone I've heard of two couples who when the first died the second passed only months later.

Overall, “Sonny” is a gentle, melancholic meditation on life choices, love, regret, and the invisible ties that bind families. Mary Black’s warm, heartfelt delivery make it an emotional touchstone for many listeners, evoking strong feelings about home, duty, and what we leave behind. 

Here is Mary Black's 1991 version with Harris and Keane 

that I've been listening to which I find especially moving. 

As a MacGregor on me mother's side, I can't post this without noting 

the accompaniment: fiddle, accordion, guitar and bagpipes. 

Painting by the author, acrylic on panel, 24" x 36"

How Dreams and Decisions Shape the Terrain of Our Lives

Thoughts in Response to Robert Frost's Road Less Travelled.

Life is not a straight highway but a series of watersheds. where choices carve rivers that diverge toward distinctly different fates. Each decision—whether small or monumental—reconfigures the terrain of our lives, sending us toward unique destinations. 

Unlike water drawn to its course by gravity, we're not powerless. We make choices, often incrementally, that redirect our flow. Yet, all too often many people allow themselves to simply drift, mistaking passivity for fate.

Choices have consequences, and failure to choose is itself a choice. The weight of that truth can be paralyzing. Ishiguro highlights this in his novel The Remains of the Day. Stevens, the butler, (played by Anthony Hopkins in the film) fails to choose between his rigid devotion to duty and his suppressed feelings for Miss Kenton. This heartbreaking indecision costs him a chance at personal happiness, leaving him with regret and a sense of a wasted life as he reflects on his past.

So we avoid the work required to accomplish great things and choose the path of least resistance, because choosing boldly demands sacrifice. 

The deepest longings of our hearts—whether to create, to love, or to achieve a significant goal—require effort, risk, and often pain. Most of us shy away from that. Work is daunting; ease is seductive. We convince ourselves we lack control, preferring the comfort of inertia to the labor of pursuit. But in doing so, we diminish our own dreams, letting them fade into whispers of “what if.” 

Oh how powerful the temptation to become subsumed in the lamentations of regret. Here I think of Jason Robards as Charles Halloway, the father who gets lost in the hall of mirrors in the film adaptation of Something Wicked This Way Comes. I've often said the mirror of our acts reveals who we are. But in the hall of mirrors, regret distorts what we see and becomes a merciless accuser.

Great achievements are not gifts; they are forged. The scientist burning midnight oil, the artist pouring his or her soul onto canvas, the dreamer defying all odds and expectations—they all pay a price. 

Sacrifice imbues value. A goal reached without cost feels hollow, like a trophy unearned. The mountain’s summit is sweeter when the climb scars your hands. Yet, too many of us simply ramble about, sidestepping the steep trails for smoother paths, trading aspiration for apathy.

Remember, we're not condemned to drift, blown about like desert tumbleweed. We can choose to dream big, to reach for the stars, knowing the cosmos demands courage. Each step toward a lofty goal is a rebellion against complacency, a declaration that our desires are worth the struggle. 

If you're like me, at some point in your youth you likely asked, "Why am I here?" Today, with seven decades under my belt, I can answer this question by looking back at the decisions I made and where those paths took me. 

* * * 

The meandering thoughts above are an amplified version of my 2008 blog post titled Ramble or Reach?

Throwback Thursday: Why I Try

Why I Try

Do I really want on my deathbed to lie
wondering why I didn't try?
Regretting life I didn't live?
Regretting the strength I didn't give?
Regretting what I didn't share,
wondering why I didn't care?

And so, you see, till the day I die
I'll try and try and try and try.

Originally published in 2011.

Regret (A Very Short Story by ChatGPT with Commentary After)

The sun was setting over the small town of Millfield, casting a warm glow over the streets and houses. As Mary sat on her porch, staring out at the scene before her, she couldn't help but feel a sense of regret wash over her.

She had lived in Millfield her entire life, never venturing more than a few miles from her childhood home. She'd always dreamed of seeing the world, of experiencing new cultures and making a name for herself. But as the years passed, she found herself too scared to take the plunge, too comfortable in the familiar surroundings of her small town.

Now, as she approached her 50th birthday, Mary realized that it was too late for her to chase her dreams. She had missed her chance at adventure, at living a life that was truly her own.

Tears welled up in Mary's eyes as she thought about all the opportunities she had let slip through her fingers. She had always played it safe, following the expectations of others instead of following her own heart.

But as the sun set on another day, Mary made a decision. She wasn't going to let her regrets consume her. She was going to start living for herself, even if it meant leaving the safety and comfort of her small town behind.

And so, the next day, Mary packed her bags and set off on a journey of self-discovery. She traveled to far-off lands, experiencing new cultures and making a life for herself that was full of purpose and meaning.

Years passed, and Mary never looked back. She had finally found the courage to chase her dreams, and she had no regrets about the life she had built for herself. She knew that it was never too late to start living for yourself, and she was grateful for the second chance she had been given.

* * * * 

OK, so I asked ChatGPT, the AI writing program that has gone over-the-top viral, to write a 300-word story about Regret. The preceding story is the product of our gifted thinking machine, unedited. 

As I read it, I had a problem when Mary made a decision to "set off on a journey of self-discovery" and was heading off the next day in pursuit of her dreams. 

Why was this a problem? Well, there are too many unanswered questions. First, how many people do you know who can pack their bags and leave overnight? It just didn't seem plausible. If she owns the house, who will sell it for her? If she's just renting, who will empty the place and put her things in storage? 

Was she a widow? Divorced? I'd like to know more, but then again... I asked for a 300 word story, not a novel.

Does she live alone? One would assume that is the case, but the story doesn't really say this. If she's able to leave the next day, perhaps her parents are still alive and living there. On the hand, it's possible her father died a few years earlier and Mary was taking care of her mother until she died two weeks ago, thereby freeing her of the responsibility she felt was her to bear. With the funeral now behind she stares at a whole new future landscape for her life.

Actually, I've seen this small town phenomenon. People can feel safe in the small towns they grew up in. A number of years ago I met a woman who grew up in a small Wisconsin town. When she went off to college in Madison she was intimidated by the scale of the school and dropped out to return home. I'm curious if she had any regrets like Mary. 

I also remember a young woman who gave me a haircut here in Duluth and said she had never been out of the state. "Not even Wisconsin? It's five minutes away?" (You can actually see Superior from half the houses on Duluth's 30 mile hillside.)

"Not even Wisconsin," she said.

With regards to Mary, I was curious where her fears came from that kept her in Millfield. What do you think she found when she set off to find herself?

Illustration created by DreamAI

The Four Kinds of Regrets

Ray Bradbury's Something Wicked This Way Comes has been made into at least three Hollywood films. The first, in 1972, was so mediocre that a second effort was filmed in 1983 starring Jason Robards. This was a better effort but it failed to make half its money back. In 2018 Hollywood made another go of it and this one got worse ratings than either of the previous efforts. Perhaps the theme is too dark. I myself found the 1962 novel to be both vivid and disturbing. Perhaps Hollywood just can't compete with the images a good creates when mingled with our imaginations.

The story is about Mr. Dark's traveling Pandemonium Circus that upends Green Town, Illinois like a furious funnel cloud. The tag line for the film sums up the main point of the story: "After he fulfills your deepest, lifelong dream... he'll tell you the price you have to pay."

For me, I have no memories of the film at all except one. Jason Robards, the father, gets lost in a Hall of Mirrors where he is weeping because it is a hall of regrets.

AND SO when I stumbled across the title of an article on The 4 Major Kinds of Regrets, it grabbed my attention because like many people I have carried with me regrets from my past.  It never occurred to me that there could be different kinds of regret, so I was curious. Here are the categories, according to this article in Psychology Today.

Foundation Regrets
These regrets pertain to a failure to be responsible, conscientious or prudent. Things like getting old without having saved for retirement. Or regrets about having neglected your health. Or your teeth. 

Boldness Regrets
I'm guessing that this one pairs up with the proverb about good intentions. For example, an opportunity that came our way passed us by because of our inaction. Why didn't we say something, or do something? Why were we so passive?

Moral Regrets
This is when we choose the low road rather than the high road. There are a hundred ways we can fail ourselves and our ideals.

Connection Regrets
This, researchers say, is the largest category of regret. It happens when we neglect people who are important to us, when we allow fractured relationships to remain fractured.

* * * 

Some of my biggest regrets revolve around things I've said. I'm ashamed to admit that there were a few times when I deliberately said something hurtful. And there were other times I unintentionally hurt people by stupid things I'd said carelessly. What's painful is that there is often no second chance.

The article goes on to examine how people respond to their regrets. Some say, "I have no regrets." Others, and I count myself among these, say, "I  have regrets but I have learned from them."

Life is for learning, through all our experiences, good, bad and ugly. 

The Virtue of Discipline

Photo by Azamat Zhanisov on Unsplash

“The pain of self-discipline will never be as great as the pain of regret.”--Anon.

You don't hear much about the word discipline these days. Perhaps it's because we associate it with getting a spanking when we were little. It sounds like something harsh, like something no one wants to do and that kids especially don't like.*

The word discipline, however is an exceedingly important word. I'm referring here to personal discipline. In the realm of finances, for example, it takes discipline to live within one's means. It takes discipline to set aside money for the future.

In the realm of pursuing a career in music, every master pianist spends hours and years developing finger strength, muscle memory and uncanny degrees of skill by countless hours of disciplined practice.

In sports, the very best in the game have spent untold hours honing their instincts and skills. As a boy, for example, Yankees pitcher Mariano Rivera spent hours upon hours throwing a baseball at a nail-head on the back of his father's boathouse. This exercise produced in him a throwing precision that made him one of the most intimidating closers in baseball history.

Improving one's knowledge by reading takes discipline. Television is a mindless activity that offers a temporary distraction from stress, responsibility or other life burdens, but as a way of life it does little more than fill time.And for most it is just a habit. Leaders read. Time is too precious to waste on habits that undermine more productive pursuits.

Here's another area where it takes discipline. It takes discipline not to react to things that people say or stories you hear, until you know they are true. Sometimes we blow a fuse before we even know the facts. Our first reaction is often to think the worst. We overreact.

A better habit would be to practice the P.I.N. Method taught by Dr. Edward De Bono. Everything has a Positive, Interesting and Negative aspect. By rationally analyzing things we hear, we defuse the emotion that clouds our thinking. It takes discipline to do this.

And when it comes to passing along stories you see on social media, it takes discipline to pause, reflect, and check it out to verify if it is even true. Why risk your own cred by just spreading manure.

Learning to control our emotions is a discipline. Self-control doesn't sound all that fun to many people, but if you speak your mind every time you are angry you will not only wreck relationships, you can very easily lose your job. When the Bill of Rights addresses freedom of expression, this isn't what the Founding Fathers had in mind.

Another area of emotional maturity is in the realm of moodiness. "I'm in a bad mood and that means I don't want anyone around me to be in a good mood." It's a mark of maturity to be considerate of co-workers and others in your life. (I am not saying we're not allowed to get depressed. I am suggesting that we have more control over how we express it than we usually want to own up to.)

Winners and Losers

We live in an era where the word competition is under attack. The reality is, competition brings out the best in us. When we compete in a tournament, something is at stake. That something inspires us to work harder to be better, whether it be soccer, chess or poker. If "everyone wins" the end result is to make everyone a loser. Why try when you know being better makes no difference?

In the real world, when kids grow up, they will discover that not everyone gets the job. When there are openings, there are usually more candidates than jobs. There will be winners and losers. This is the way life works.

Punctuality is a discipline. Writers who work on assignment quickly learn that deadlines are real. The publication will be going to  press and your story needs to be there early in order to be edited, typeset, etc. Writers also need to develop the discipline of editing their work.

And yes, it is work. And work itself is a discipline.

Addicted to Self-Indulgence
The Nike slogan, "Do It" shouldn't be interpreted to mean "Do whatever pops into your head."

"I want this. I want that. I want, want want want want.... Gotta have it. Please please please please please."

One of the reasons we're so undisciplined in our culture is that we've lost sight of the value of discipline as being a means to a higher purpose: to become our better selves.

THIS BLOG POST was triggered by an article I saw on The Ladders about bad habits we must break to improve our lives. The opening paragraph was right on point.

Habits define us. And nothing sabotages your creativity and productive life quite like bad habits. In the words of Samuel Johnson “The chains of habit are too weak to be felt until they are too strong to be broken.”

We all know what we need to do. Unfortunately most of us are trapped into following the path of least resistance. "I'll quit tomorrow," we say, about whatever has us hooked in like smoking, overeating, porn, watching TV, etc.  As for building positive habits, like getting the exercise we know we need... "Tomorrow." Or, "Next week will be soon enough."

All this to say, it all boils down to self-talk. What's happening in your head is where the battle is. If I may, here's a line from a Bob Marley song you should take to heart: "Don't give up the fight!"

Plato put it this way: “The first and best victory is to conquer self.”

Related Links
Bad Habits You Must Break Immediately to Improve Your Life 
I was spanked with a belt. My Dad was spanked with a Razor Strop

Does Holding Down a Job and Paying Your Bills Mean You Sold Out Your Dream?

This morning's eNewsletter from AEON began with an excellent article by Thomas Maloney titled, The Creed of Compromise: Don’t throw in the day job to follow your dream. The subtitle elaborates the them: Join the bifurcattors who juggle work-for-pay and their work-for-love.

The article is directed toward every person who has ever wondered if they should quit their day job to follow their passion.

You know the issue. You have talent. Maybe you're an artist or writer, an actor or musician. You feel like you're selling yourself short by not going after your dream. Then again, you look at the numbers and you know you need the money to pay the bills.

Maloney's article is directed directly at people in this situation. In his case he's a writer, but it could be someone who wants to start his or her own business. Part of the article deals with the dilemma.

The problem has many facets. One of them has to do with what kind of employment path to take to pay the bills. "Some choose a job that corresponds with higher dreams," he writes. "Others work in a disparate field for the money so as to not contaminate their passion."

Maloney chose to work in at a hedge fund. I myself pursued a career that utilized my skills, landing a job as a writer and building on that to a career in advertising. For both Mahoney and myself it was a compromise, but one we accepted. We also each felt fortunate that we had jobs that were sufficient to take care of our needs. Not everyone is so fortunate, as he notes here.

"What’s certain is that not everyone has the opportunity to do a stint in a well-paid but mildly perplexing job, even if they wanted to. Many school-leavers and graduates face a choice between several uninspiring jobs that are all badly paid, and a passion that pays nothing at all."

Maloney's article explores all the facets of this issue, like a jeweler examining the faces of a gem from multiple angles. When it comes to the matter of moonlighting he writes that "moonlighting is undoubtedly an uncomfortable business. By dividing finite time and energy between two endeavors, bifurcators inevitably feel they aren’t doing either as well as they could."

Further on, he places another aspect of the matter on the table. Whichever path your pursue, the dream or the job, you can still end up experiencing regret.

Advocates of dream-following, of commitment and career leaps of faith, often say: ‘You’ll regret it if you don’t.’ They might be right about that (actually, they almost certainly are). But here’s the rub: regret is not the sole preserve of the cautious compromiser. A failure to compromise can also beget future unhappiness. Some of your sacrifices might come back to haunt you.

If you've ever wrestled with any aspect of this dilemma,  I recommend the full article here on Aeon.

* * * *
Last summer I attended an Op-Ed workshop with author Michael Fedo who was in Duluth for a book signing, a book that also addresses this very same topic: Don't Quite Your Day Job. A review of Fedo's book is at the end of my blog post Notes from an Op-Ed Writing Workshop.

Whatever you choose, choose to make a difference.

What Might Have Been

“Many of us crucify ourselves between two thieves - regret for the past and fear of the future.” ~Fulton Oursler

Endings and beginnings often bring times of reflection. As we transition to a new year we make resolutions, and imagination sprouts wings to fly forward toward new possibilities. Simultaneously we sometimes find ourselves pensively pondering the past. I've done this, and maybe you've done it, too, lamenting over castles built of air, mirages now disassembled.

Volumes have been written of regret, a theme that appears in stories as divergent as Ray Bradbury's Something Wicked This Way Comes and Andre Gide's beautifully heartbreaking Isabelle.

The other night a very minor incident brought to mind how people can beat themselves up over things that are done and gone and can't be changed. And how regret kills the spirit. How do we resolve this? Do we ignore the past and only direct our gaze toward the future?

Such a stance will likely prove unprofitable. Why? Because there is a balancing truth. We can learn lessons from our past that help us in our futures. Sometimes that twinge of pain is a reminder, too, that our inner healing is incomplete.

There's no great harm in feeling a little blue about what might have been. Just don't live there.

Gurdjieff once compared our life experiences to food which we eat but is not always digested at the same rate of speed. Some experiences may take years to process, emerging from the subconscious to haunt us at unexpected times. That's the nature of bereavement.

Ultimately, the movement of our inward journeys should be toward healing so that we can fully appreciate and enjoy the present that we live in. May your 2012 be one of continued growth in strength and understanding.

Here's a poem by Abraham Lincoln that I found in a 1996 volume called Best Loved Poems of the American People. In explaining the poem later to a friend he said a certain recollection put in "in a poetizing mood."

Memory

My childhood's home I see again,
And sadden with the view;
And still, as memory crowds my brain,
There's pleasure in it too.

O Memory! thou midway world
'Twixt earth and paradise,
Where things decayed and loved ones lost
In dreamy shadows rise,

And, freed from all that's earthly vile,
Seem hallowed, pure, and bright,
Like scenes in some enchanted isle
All bathed in liquid light.

As dusky mountains please the eye
When twilight chases day;
As bugle-tones that, passing by,
In distance die away;

As leaving some grand waterfall,
We, lingering, list its roar--
So memory will hallow all
We've known, but know no more.

Near twenty years have passed away
Since here I bid farewell
To woods and fields, and scenes of play,
And playmates loved so well.

Where many were, but few remain
Of old familiar things;
But seeing them, to mind again
The lost and absent brings.

The friends I left that parting day,
How changed, as time has sped!
Young childhood grown, strong manhood gray,
And half of all are dead.

I hear the loved survivors tell
How nought from death could save,
Till every sound appears a knell,
And every spot a grave.

I range the fields with pensive tread,
And pace the hollow rooms,
And feel (companion of the dead)
I'm living in the tombs.

Originally published anonymously in 1847.