Memorials On this day, in this place, We knew what we had to face We dug in, come what may On this day On this day, where you stand, I first dared to take her hand All I am I can trace To this place I met up with Paolo in Salamanca He’d been drunk since finals ended He said we could stay on the boat of these two German girls that he’d befriended So we headed for the Tunisian coast But things began to sour when Paolo tried to trade their beds They dumped us in Marseille So Paolo sprung for train fare up the Rhone to Besançon And his uncle’s ski chalet And I was going hiking with the girl from the bar the night before And the best Bordeaux the uncle had And where we were meeting stood this old man in leather sandals, Shorts, and a short-sleeved shirt of a different plaid I nod and he nods back And then he says “On this day, in this place We knew what we had to face We dug in, come what may On this day” The brass had come in on the noon flight with their lawyers I could smell the kill But with 25 minutes to go until our meeting I was up on the Hill Still squaring things with the subcommittee chair The oldies’ station’s on inside the cab, and “Walk on By” Got us down to the parkway exit lane But after standing still for “Every Day” and “In My Room” I bailed out and headed for the train I slogged up the hill to where the street vendors parked their carts And stopped to phone in my latest change of plan And there, in a linen suit, complete with boutonnière And pearl-inlaid cufflinks was this quaint old man I nod, and he nods back And then he said, “On this day, where you stand, I first dared to take her hand All I am I can trace To this place”