Gamble Rogers Memorial Foundation Gamble Rogers Memorial Foundation
his music his stories his performances his life & legacy

Biography
Written Tributes
Musical Tributes
Florida Artists
Hall of Fame
Reviews

Guestbook
Sign
View
CD Order Forms
HomeHome

Gamble Rogers Festival

• May 2-4, 2014

2013 Festival
2012 Festival
2011 Festival
2010 Festival
2009 Festival
2008 Festival
2007 Festival
2006 Festival
Other Links
Tributes to Gamble

"The Curve Above the Door" by Douglas Day
Words & Music By: Douglas Day
1993 Douglas Day/Kite Music (BMI)
As performed by: Douglas Day
On "Barefoot To The Sea" on Kite Music

From the "Barefoot To The Sea" album insert:

Gamble Rogers was a man of feeling, a man sought out by many for his keen, listening ear. Friends in his town of St. Augustine, Florida included musicians and politicians, cooks and caretakers, fishermen and gentlemen who became, in his company, all people of quality and refinement. He came from a great line of architects and had a keen eye for proportion in houses, in boats, in shotguns, and in people.

Listen to "The Curve Above the Door"

The Curve Above The Door

A house must have an entry
A door must have protection
You cant just jump through a window
Or break down a wall.
A door must have protection
From the rain and wind and weather
And not just be a hole
Where anything can slither in and fall.

We stood in the side yard,
Sizing up the gable.
Look at the other houses,
The other island houses here
How did they do it?
The original old-time builders,
How did they choose to keep the warmth within?

And Im considering the entry
And the way it should protect you
When the rain and wind and weather
Should not be welcomed in.
How there must be something else there
Like a roof, a bench, a railing
To separate the outside
From the space within.
And here I build a house
To last beyond my lifetime
And try to tell a story
To last a hundred more;
I build it in the memory
Of a man of understanding;
Bear with me if I labor on
The curve above the door.

On the porch he held the guitar
Like a preacher holds a Bible,
Like a farmer holds a plowblade
And a whetstone to glide;
His thumbpick like the whetstone
Turning steel to music
Bringing up the edge
Of the story held inside.

And he played it in the kitchen
Where Im storing these provisions
For the serving of the dinners
To give us more than food;
In this story theres an adult
Not frightened by the title
Of husband and provider,
Responsible and good.

And Im designing my whole house
Like youd design the scenery
For a stage and a story
Youd always hoped to find:
Where shed want to be with you
When you wanted just to hold her
And shed want to go solo
When you wanted just to hide.

And here I build a house
To last beyond my lifetime
And try to tell a story
To last a hundred more;
I build it in the promise
Of discerning conversation;
Bear with me if I linger on
The curve above the door.

This is the song I wanted
To write sometime last summer,
A song to say to Gamble
That I sought him like I did;
I who once had a father
Who also held a guitar
Who taught me how to play it
So Id never want to quit.
But last summer was too soon
As if I really thought hed show up
Anyway, even though we all knew
He was physically gone;
So now that he didnt
And the photograph shows him sitting
On the porch in the rocker
Holding the guitar.
I can tell him Ive decided
On a small porch with an awning
And two benches facing inward
Wide enough for two guitars;
Just a small porch with an awning
And two benches facing inward
Wide enough for two:
Each one holding a guitar.
And here I build a house
To last beyond my lifetime
And try to tell a story
To last a hundred more;
The model is the man
Who crossed the veil of footlights;
Whose fabled conversation
Deepened all our songs.



© Steady Arm Music.