You might already be saying: What right have you, an old Southern boy from South Carolina, to be writing this piece?

I have only one answer: I claim it.

I never “knew” him personally, but I know him. Almost 30 years ago, I attended the Kerrville Folk Festival. I encountered some of the best songwriters in the country, some I was familiar with, some brand new. I heard David Mallett with the stars of Texas upon us.

Mallett was as good as I had ever heard, music and lyrics. The next day, in a grove of tall pines, I sidled on over and told him how his music had affected me. He was gracious and kind. I asked him where he was from. He gave me an enigmatic smile and said: “That is an interesting question. Until recently, that was not as clear as it is right now. I have been living and working out of Nashville. I have decided to go ‘home’ to Maine.”

I looked further into his musical portfolio and discovered “The Garden Song” (I grow several varieties of heirloom tomatoes), and so many other treasures. For weeks I consumed his music, bought many CDs and yearned to hear more live concerts. But Maine was 14 hours away. Years went by. At least I had my albums.

Finally, providence arrived. A friend had family contacts in Maine. Her sons had inherited a house in Boothbay. This was not just any dwelling; it was actually ON, not next to, the water — an old lobster dock. We went up once and then again, finally driving through the gorgeous countryside, eating tons of lobster rolls and haddock sandwiches and Damariscotta oysters. Later, we visited Blue Hill and, miracle of miracles, David Mallett was playing the opera house in Stonington. We got tickets and not only swooned among a group of true Mainers but discovered one of the most charming spots on the whole coast. David was great, soon to turn 70, and his voice had only grown richer and more expressive.

Listening to his newer albums I saw that his lyrics, always very fine, had begun exploring the heights and depths of the human experience. I got to know a true patriot, a man of the people. If you know Mallett, or think you do, feel free to disagree with my characterization. Listen to “Celebration” and experience the range of problems and conditions that we face as fellow humans and as fellow citizens. He asks us to help build a “better nation”.

An anecdote. On Thursday, Dec. 19, I was writing and trying to decide what to listen to. My brain suggested one of my songwriter “friends” and David’s name immediately came to mind. As I listened, I decided to see where he was playing these days. I put his name into the search engine. You know what popped up.

Already in a bad mood, I was devastated. I began to grieve as if he had been a close friend. That is the power of music, especially from the best songwriters. I will miss him greatly — I can only imagine how the Mallet Brothers Band and the rest of the clan must be feeling. Mainers have lost a treasure.

The David Malletts do not come along as often as I would wish. I have his albums for solace but will always wish for more intimate live performances. My memory of our conversation in the Texas pines will just have to suffice.

And so “inch by inch and row by row,” note by note and word by word, David Mallett created a veritable “Garden of Song” which each year has continued to provide a harvest that has only grown in quantity and quality.

This Christmas season, remember him in the words of Tiny Tim: “God bless us, every one.”