This page is for the man who touched us all - whose words stilled the sobs, whose voice eased the pain. For the man who laughed with us when love entered our life or returned to it...and held us with his words when it left. This is my tribute to one man who reached across 20 years, gender, 3000 miles, and so much more, to sit in the dark and hold a 15 year old girl who thought her life was over because her heart was broken. That girl never got to say thank you. And for 30 years my dream was to do just that.

Thank you Rod.

I gave birth to this page in April 1997....as a birthday gift of sorts for Rod. A present for the man who taught me to love words, reminded me how much I love lilacs, and most of all, who taught me to love completely and without excuse, and to let others love me.

I am amazed at the number of e-mails I receive from people about Rod McKuen. By now, I figure most of his fans have found his official website, A Safe Place to Land . From there they might find his Message Board, chat room, and Stanyan House. But for some reason, somehow, some times, it's here a person lands first on their journey to rediscover Rod. I hope that I can provide them with enough information and interest to continue on in their travels to find this special man.

For me, this page was the beginning of a dream come true. Once I started receiving so many emails from people who were searching for Rod, I started a Message Board. There, a large group of regulars, and even more visitors, shared our longing for something that we felt we'd lost. Where was he? Why had he quit writing? Would he come back? It didn't take long for word of this page, and the Message Board to reach Rod, and some gentle encouragement by a wonderful friend convinced him to visit both places. After that he contacted me, and 5 other people who were the core of the Message Board. Soon afterwards we were each the recipient of a box of goodies - signed books, handmade recordings, and other gifts. Then one day while I played on the computer, I received an Instant Message (IM) from Rod. I could barely believe that all of it was happening. And then, he allowed me to announce on the Message Board the opening of his website on April 29, 1998.

There was still more.

On September 11, 1998 Rod's daily Flight Plan on his website was written for my wedding. Soon we all learned of a new book - "A Safe Place to Land", that came with 2 CDs that contained readings from the book with full orchestral background score. On March 10, 2001 he gave his first concert in years in Aurora, IL. I was there, and got to meet Rod, and talk with him. And yes, I finally got to say "thank you". I also got to meet many of the people who had shared the journey to find Rod again, and tell them how important they were to me.

Since then there have been many concerts, including one at Carnegie Hall to celebrate his 70th birthday. There have been more new CDs, and re-releases of many of his popular ones from the past. And there was another book, "Rusting In the Rain". His website continues to draw thousands of people daily, and Stanyan House provides the means to order his books,recordings, and other merchandise. Before you leave in search of this new Rod McKuen, let me offer up a piece of what lies ahead:

This is a poem from one of his new books, A Safe Place to Land. I want you to see what he's writing now, and I'm sure you'll want to add this special combination book/CD set to your library. You can order the new book directly from StanyanHouse. This site also includes the Rod McKuen Jukebox which allows you to download a number of recordings, as well as the entire book, Caught In The Quiet - all for free. This is just one poem, and many of you will feel it's not the best. My own personal favorite, and that of many others, is "I Always Knew". I'll leave that for you to discover elsewhere. Enjoy your trip.

Even wrinkled water stretches out
along its roadway to the sea.
A blemish under sunlight fades,
              or darkens,
changes anyway as all things change
the more they meet the Elements.
Only the nightmare, one in a row,
is constant under Nature's gaze.
Lean or weighted down with weight,
every body I see now is eloquent
                in true proportion.
Dreams have taught me
to turn my back on nothing
           that might be something.
Something being that other one
one always needs to compliment
                the given hour.

Who knows how many dreams
               die out of season
reaching for some added darkness
or twisting upward where the sunlight
sits on haunches in the tops of trees.

There are no ordinary dreams.
Every nightmare is extraordinary
and compared to bodies, every body,
the dream is truly plain.
             The nightmare nothing.

I am, of course, excepting my own body
which needs a little / lot of work.
No mirror told me that.
Not seeing my reflection in an other body
            was looking glass enough.

While looking down
above a dream some times
I do see my old self rolling in another's arms
             And oh the sight is dazzling.

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