Amanda Dyslin
Jacob Quade never wanted the song “Three Wooden Crosses” to mean something to him.
He didn’t want to identify with the lyrics of the second verse, seeing his father’s face when Randy Travis sings about the farmer who left the harvest, a home and 80 acres, the faith and love for growing things in his young son’s heart.
Because identifying with the song, embracing it when memories of his father wash over him, means it really happened. It means his father, Brad Quade, a farmer near Frost, really did die seven months ago after falling off a grain bin.
It means he’s gone forever and there’s nothing left to do but accept it.
It’s strange, though, how much comfort a three-minute song can bring to an ailing heart when the listener hears his own story in the lyrics. That’s what “Three Wooden Crosses” has done for Quade, 22, of Lake Crystal who still has a hard time talking about his dad, the man who wasn’t only a father but a friend.
“It basically changed my life, taught me to never take a day for granted. It could be the last day,” he said.
The song, like so many other songs for so many other broken hearts, has helped get Quade through a difficult time in his life. Here are a few other stories from people who found strength in music.
Help from above
On Feb. 12, 2007, my life changed forever. As I was driving to Fairmont to pick up a friend, I was overcome by a white-out caused by a snowplow.
I did not see a semi parked in the road waiting to turn, and I hit it. I was then rear-ended by another vehicle.
Very scared, I remember seeing the blue numbers on the back of the semi after the crash, the loudness of the airbags popping and my grandson crying. I remember seeing my life flash before me and a sudden calmness came over me.
I truly believe that Jesus took my steering wheel that Monday morning and has given me the strength to make it through this next journey of my life. I was airlifted to Rochester and taken into surgery to immobilize the many broken bones I suffered from.
I spent many days in the hospital at St. Marys, and I now live at a nursing home in Mankato to receive therapy to gain strength in my legs and arms to be able to walk again and return home.
I remember hearing Carrie Underwood’s “Jesus Take the Wheel” on the radio while in the hospital. It immediately reminded me of the accident and that Monday morning.
The song tells of how we need to let go of our everyday worries and let God handle them. ... Many people tell me that I am a miracle, but I believe that the “Power of Prayer” is the real miracle.
— Anna Mae Sullivan-Gronewold, Lewisville
Gift of life
My husband gave me a Roger Whittaker CD 111⁄2 years ago when he received a kidney from me. We were given the OK for the transplant right before Christmas and had the surgery on Jan. 8, 1996, at the Mayo Clinic.
Without the transplant, Denny would have had to go on dialysis, which would have been difficult. The song that brought tears to my eyes was “You Are My Miracle.” It is such a beautiful song and was so appropriate at the time.
— Ione Barron, North Mankato
Staying strong
“If You’re Going Through Hell,” by Rodney Atkins, has helped me through the toughest time of my life. It has reminded me to keep a sense of humor and to keep going and never look back.
I was sexually harassed by my male supervisor in my workplace. The sad part is I’m the one who lost my job over the entire incident, even when my company found his behavior to be inappropriate.
They felt that the correct response was for me to go back to work and work for this guy and pretend nothing had happened.
Hard to believe that in this day and age this type of stuff still happens. But, believe me, it does.
To anyone out there who is or has gone through this: Stay strong.
— A Mankato woman
‘Hello’ and goodbye
The song that brings the most memories to me involves the passing of my nephew, Dustin Andrew Hall, in August of 2000. “You Had Me From Hello,” by Kenny Chesney, sums everything up.
Anytime I hear that song it brings comfort to me knowing that even though he had a short life with us (he was only 4 years old), there were a lot of things that he did that leave wonderful memories in every heart that he touched.
—Heather Coopman, Pemberton
Long, lonely summer
In 1985 I was living in Torremolinos, Spain, teaching at an international K-12 school.
I’d been in Spain for three years and was going through one of those times when you really wonder what it is all about. I had no apparent roots, I had no really close friends in the area with whom to share my blues, Internet certainly wasn’t an option for communication, letters took two weeks to arrive in either direction to or from the States, and I could only afford phone calls about once a month.
What I had was a radio, and I often listened to a Gibraltar radio station at night while correcting papers and preparing for classes. A song that was in heavy rotation then was “The Boys of Summer,” by Don Henley, and I was glued to the radio to hear it every time it came on.
It really resonated with me, not because of lost love, but the notion of empty roads and the empty beach ... things out of reach.
I lived there, and I guess you could say that I took solace in my blues when I heard the song. It still sends shivers down my spine today, and you know that I have it on my iPod and on CD and as an LP.
It was just one of those moments when I could share my feelings — not with someone, but with a song.
— Jim Grabowska, St. Clair
8 miles to a new life
The album that probably helped me the most was the “8 Mile” soundtrack, featuring Eminem. I purchased the album in 2002 when I was going through a divorce from my first husband.
The music was completely out of character for me, but I needed to change things up, at least for a while, because staying who I had been those years I was married made it too difficult to deal with the situation.
The album now sits in a box with various other CDs I no longer listen to. I’m no longer that person, but I’m no longer the person I was in my first marriage either.
I like to think that brief period where I broke out of my shell helped me realize that I didn’t have to stay in the rut I was in.
— Chelsea Alger, St. Peter
Terrible tweens
The Beatles got me through the tween years. When they sang “Wooo” on “She Loves You,” it propelled me straight out of puberty.
— Ellen Mrja, Mankato
Tribute to my dad
Anything by Bruce Springsteen. He has gotten me through a lot of hard times. But in particular, “Land of Hope and Dreams.”
My dad passed away on June 30, 2003. My husband, one son and I were trying to get to Albert Lea before he died. Bruce’s “Live in New York City” CD was playing and my husband was breaking a few speeding laws on the way.
We got to the hospital, and he was in a coma, which he never came out of. He died that afternoon and all I had in my head was the song “Land of Hope and Dreams.” And to this day, I play it as a little tribute to my dad.
— Jill Quesenberry, Sleepy Eye
Letting go
It was a year ago this week that my mother passed away from Alzheimer’s disease.
May and June of 2006 were spent driving back and forth to Northfield from Wells. I had just purchased the new Dixie Chicks album, “Taking the Long Way,” and I listened to it every time I got in the car to make the journey.
One selection, “Silent House,” feels to me, although I don’t know for a fact, like it is about a woman with Alzheimer’s: “And I’ll remember the years when your mind was clear, how the laughter and life filled up this silent house.”
It was a sad time, yet having watched her decline over three years, it was OK to let her go.
— Julie Forderer, Wells
Pretty piece of music
I had piano sheet music for “Wishing Will Make It So.” It was a very cheery and peppy song, and when I played it on the piano, it made me feel happy and cheerful.
This was in 1941 and 1942, during the war.
— Bette Manke, Lake Crystal
Second time’s the charm
I have a song that has a double meaning for me. It signifies not just one major event, but two in my life — an ending and beginning that happened over a year apart.
When I was in high school in 1990 I met my first boyfriend, Jon. Jon and I were so serious and sure that our relationship was going to last forever. It did not. ...
It was an unimaginably difficult breakup, as it was the last tie to my high school years and that time of innocence. I did not want to let it go.
At the time, Garth Brooks’ song “The Dance” was popular, painful and for some reason always on my radio when I turned on my car. ...
After what seemed an eternity, but was actually only 18 months, I met Troy. I was working at the Caledonia Lounge in Mankato and still hating the ever-present Garth Brooks song. Troy was a scary-looking pool player who downed pitcher after pitcher of Mountain Dew every night and always helped the waitresses clean up at closing time. ...
Troy and I hit it off, and we started to see more and more of one another. ... After the third week, I was at work and he was stationed by the pool tables. It was a slow night, and as the evening came to a close, Troy asked me if I wanted to dance. The name of the song was ... yep, “The Dance,” by Garth Brooks.
It struck me at that time how differently that song, and for that matter any song, could turn and twist with time. ... All I thought at that time was that my life was moving on, and here I was with someone new and somewhat happy.
I thought to myself, “Well now this is what the song was all about. There is life after loving someone.”
Troy and I did get married and have been busy raising four children together.
— Jodi Lancaster, Montgomery
Reggae for all occasions
For those of us who make it into their 50s without facing any of life’s truly challenging moments, there’s always that ranch in Crawford, Texas. For the rest of us, there’s Jimmy Cliff’s remarkable collection, “Reggae Greats.”
Whether it’s a broken heart, broken dream or broken bank account, and I’ve had my share of all three, this is the CD that will get you through all of them. Bob Marley’s Jah-inspired music gives you the courage to walk out the door and change the world; Jimmy Cliff’s more personal outlook gives you the strength you need just to get out of bed.
Just the song titles alone let you know this guy won’t be denied his due: “Sitting in Limbo,” “The Harder They Come,” “Many Rivers to Cross,” “Hard Road to Travel,” “You Can Get It If You Really Want,” “Sooner or Later.”
I’ve listened to this CD many, many times, and just like the irrepressible beat that underpins it, I always bounce back. Funneled through the prism of Jimmy Cliff, reggae, thy name is perseverance.
— Ross Gersten, New Ulm
A reason to dance
“Staying Alive,” by the Bee Gees, helped me get through chemo with “the red death” (adriamycin) and extensive radiation for breast cancer with eight positive lymph nodes more than a decade ago.
I still sing it to myself at least weekly, and I still dance around the kitchen to it.
Thanks, Bee Gees!
— Linda Vanbroeke-Pierce, Austin, Texas, formerly of Minneapolis
