November Blue

Listen while you read:  Not sad to see you go . . .

If I weren't leavin', would I catch you dreamin'?
And if I weren't gonna be gone now, could I take you home?
And if I told you that I loved you, would it change what you see?
And if I was staying, would you stay with me?

And if I had money, would it all look good?
And if I had a job now, like a good man should
And if I came to you tomorrow and said, "Let's run away"
Would you roll like the wind does? Baby, would you stay?

My heart is dancin' to a November tune
And I hope that you hear it, singing songs about you
And I sing songs of sorrow because you're not around
See, babe, I'm gone tomorrow. Baby, follow me down

I don't know why I have to, but this man must move on
I love my time here, didn't know 'til I was gone
November shadows shade November change
November spells sweet memory, the season blue remains
November spells sweet memory, the season blue remains

Your yellow hair is like the sunlight, however sweet it shines
Bit by the cold of December, I'm warm beside your smile
Oh, lady, tell me I'm not leaving. You're everything I dreamed
I'm killing myself thinking I've fallen like the leaves
I'm killing myself thinking I've fallen like the leaves

~  The Avett Brothers

Thirty days hath September, April, June, and November. Today, we bid farewell to November, which I deem as cruel as April, despite what T.S. Eliot says. Although I am a fan of the Avett Brothers, I was unaware of this song, most likely because it dates back to 2002 and an album titled Country Was.

The video mostly shows the brothers in a car, on a road trip. If all goes as planned, by the time you read this post, I will have driven over 1200 miles to my southern winter home. While I have loved my time in the north, these old bones are much happier in a warmer climate. I will welcome December tomorrow without socks and shoes, gloves and scarves.

So. November ends. That means that I have completed eleven of the twelve months I committed to when I started this blog on New Year's Day. Let the December countdown begin! Perhaps you can imagine my mixed feelings. While I will miss the discipline (sort of) and my musical connection to those of you who follow the blog, I will welcome the release from the pressure of having to come up with a song every day. And, at this point, having to flip back through the entire year to make sure I haven't already used that song!

But I can promise you this: I will not be posting a Christmas carol every day.

Fa la la la la ha ha ha ha!

Put Your Records On

Listen while you read:  Thank you, Thomas Edison!

Three little birds sat on my window
And they told me I don't need to worry
Summer came like cinnamon, so sweet
Little girls, double-dutch on the concrete

Maybe sometimes we got it wrong, but it's all right
The more things seem to change, the more they stay the same
Ooo, don't you hesitate

Girl, put your records on, tell me your favorite song
You go ahead, let your hair down
Sapphire and faded jeans
I hope you get your dreams
Just go ahead, let your hair down
You're gonna find yourself somewhere, somehow

Blue as the sky, sunburnt and lonely
Sipping tea in the bar by the roadside
Just relax, just relax
Don't you let those other boys fool you
Gotta love that Afro hairdo

Maybe sometimes we feel afraid, but it's all right
The more you stay the same, the more they seem to change
Don't you think it's strange?

Girl, put your records on, tell me your favorite song
You go ahead, let your hair down
Sapphire and faded jeans
I hope you get your dreams
Just go ahead, let your hair down
You're gonna find yourself somewhere, somehow

Just more than I could take
Pity for pity's sake
Some nights kept me awake
I thought that I was stronger
When you gonna realize that you don't have to try any longer?
Do what you want to do

Girl, put your records on, tell me your favorite song
You go ahead, let your hair down
Sapphire and faded jeans
I hope you get your dreams
Just go ahead, let your hair down
You're gonna find yourself somewhere, somehow

~  Corinne Bailey Rae et al

It was 140 years ago, on November 29, 1877, that Thomas Alva Edison demonstrated his hand-cranked phonograph for the first time.  Think about that. Unfortunately, there were no rock and roll songs to pay tribute to his contribution at the time, but Corinne Bailey Rae came to my rescue. Girl, put your records on, thanks to Thomas Alva Edison! I knew this song since it first came out, and yet I was still surprised to see that that was eleven years ago. You can find it on the eponymous album released in 2006.

The opening lines of the song are a reference to a song by Bob Marley & the Wailers from their 1977 release Exodus. I like the connection; Marley always makes me happy. And although "Put Your Records On" is somewhat "poppy," I still like it. The video makes me want to go on a bicycle ride! But despite its upbeat sound, the song addresses the pain and confusion of finding one's place in the world. Music to the rescue. In my world, there is nothing more consoling, more comforting, or more distracting than music to soothe my soul.

For me, a person whose brain has a limited section for physics and other complicated subjects, the vehicles through which we access music are a result of pure magic. There is no other explanation. I am old enough to have lived through 78 rpm records, 45 rpm singles, transistor radios, LPs, 8-track tapes, cassette tapes, boomboxes, CDs, iPods and satellite radio. All magic.

My dad loved Elvis Presley, Pat Boone, Engelbert Humperdink, Hank Williams, and Wayne Newton. We listened to those records. In honor of my dad, who died 45 years ago today, I want to say thank you for the music.

And thank you, too, Thomas Edison.

Timothy

Listen while you read:  The Buoys

Trapped in a mine that had caved in
And everyone knows the only ones left
Were Joe and me and Tim
When they broke through to pull us free
The only ones left to tell the tale
Were Joe and me

Timothy, Timothy, where on earth did you go?
Timothy, Timothy, God, why don't I know?

Hungry as hell, no food to eat
And Joe said that he would sell his soul
For just a piece of meat
Water enough to drink for two
And Joe said to me, "I'll have a swig
And then there's some for you"

Timothy, Timothy, Joe was looking at you
Timothy, Timothy, God, what did we do?

I must have blacked out just around then
'Cause the very next thing that I could see
Was the light of the day again
My stomach was full as it could be
And nobody ever got around
To finding Timothy

Timothy

~  Rupert Holmes

Ew! Now that you're all stuffed from Thanksgiving, this post will either make you laugh or gross you out. Or both. Watch the video for some fun commentary on the song.

On this day, 109 years ago in 1908, 154 men perished in a coal mine explosion at Marianna PA, near Bethlehem. There was one survivor. Learning of this today, I immediately pulled up the controversial 1971 song, "Timothy," a one-hit wonder by The Buoys. Like everyone else, I was creeped out by the song. In researching it, I was surprised to learn that it was written by Rupert Holmes! Does that name sound familiar? He's the "Pina Colada" guy! What a legacy! You can find "Timothy" on the album titled "The Buoys," named for an otherwise forgettable band.

I do remember the controversy over the song. First, it was a puzzle to figure out. It's not like cannibalism is part of our everyday conversation. So if you paid enough attention to song lyrics, in other words, if you were past the "It has a good beat and you can dance to it" mentality, you smugly pointed out the song's meaning to those who paid less attention. Major "Ew!" response, so bad that the song kept getting banned by radio stations. But then teenagers would phone in to complain, and the song would be back on the air. I think they eventually offered an edited version, which erased any suggestion that cannibalism had occurred. But we knew the truth.

In trying to find information on the coal mine disaster that happened on this date in 1908, I was amazed to find how many mine disasters have littered our history. The Marianna mine eventually landed in the hands of Bethlehem Steel, who ran it until the main conveyor belt caught fire in 1988. They closed it after that. With all due respect to the miners who risk their lives working underground, the Age of Coal has passed its expiration date. The fact that bringing back coal was one of the promises of our current White House occupant just adds to his out-of-touch views as well as his manipulation of certain segments of the population. Coal is not coming back.

Nor is Timothy.

Strawberry Fields

Listen while you read:  It was 50 years ago today!

Let me take you down
'Cause I'm going to Strawberry Fields
Nothing is real
And nothing to get hung about
Strawberry Fields forever

Living is easy with eyes closed
Misunderstanding all you see
It's getting hard to be someone
But it all works out
It doesn't matter much to me

Let me take you down
'Cause I'm going to Strawberry Fields
Nothing is real
And nothing to get hung about
Strawberry Fields forever

No one I think is in my tree
I mean, it must be high or low
That is, you know, you can't tune it
But it's all right
That is, I think it's not too bad

Let me take you down
'Cause I'm going to Strawberry Fields
Nothing is real
And nothing to get hung about
Strawberry Fields forever

Always know sometimes it's me
But you know I know when it's a dream
I think I know I mean a "yes"
But it's all wrong
That is, I think I disagree

Let me take you down
'Cause I'm going to Strawberry Fields
Nothing is real
And nothing to get hung about
Strawberry Fields forever

Strawberry Fields forever

~  John Lennon

Fifty years ago today, the Beatles' album Magical Mystery Tour was released. Fifty years! That's about as trippy as this song! Back in February, one of my readers asked me to do a post on a song from MMT, and I chose "The Fool on the Hill," which seemed eerily appropriate to the temporary occupant of the white house on The Hill. So, Ron, here's another one for you!

As many of you probably already know, "Strawberry Fields" was the name of a Salvation Army orphanage near where Lennon lived with his Aunt Mimi in Liverpool. He liked going there to play with the young residents of the home. In his adult life, he donated large sums of money to the home, as did Yoko after Lennon's death. Although the home closed in 2005, the name lives on in Central Park across the street from the Dakota, the hotel where Lennon lived in New York City until his death on December 8, 1980.

My favorite line? Nothing is real. It seems that I reflect upon that line often these days, trying to convince myself of its truth. Unfortunately, when breaking news offers one tragedy after another more than ever before (or so it seems), I recognize that I am trying to find my own strawberry fields in which to exist. A dreamland. But you know I know when it's a dream.

Last year, a close friend went to register his newly acquired car. The plates bore the letters "NIR." It didn't take me long to offer "Nothing Is Real" as a way to remember the plate. I'm very jealous, as my plates say "EHM," which I could only think of as "Everybody Hates Me."

But it doesn't matter much to me.

Strawberry fields forever!

White Rabbit

Listen while you read:  Go ask Alice.

One pill makes you larger, and one pill makes you small
And the ones that Mother gives you don't do anything at all
Go ask Alice when she's ten feet tall

And if you go chasing rabbits, and you know you're going to fall
Tell 'em a hookah-smoking caterpillar has given you the call
And call Alice, when she was just small

When the men on the chessboard get up and tell you where to go
And you've just had some kind of mushroom, and your mind is moving low
Go ask Alice, I think she'll know

When logic and proportion have fallen sloppy dead
And the White Knight is talking backward
And the Red Queen's off with her head
Remember what the Dormouse said
Feed your head
Feed your head

~  Grace Slick (Jefferson Airplane)

A defining song of the "Summer of Love" (1967), "White Rabbit" captured everyone's attention for many reasons. Grace Slick's powerful voice, lyrics that reminded us of our childhood fascination with Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, the rising crescendo of the music, and the drug references all converged into an anthem for a generation of Baby Boomers. I recall the song being played over and over again on the jukebox at The Tail o' the Pup, a popular hangout for all of us when we needed a break from driving around aimlessly and endlessly. It is part of Jefferson Airplane's second album, Surrealistic Pillow, whose title was inspired by Jerry Garcia.

Grace Slick and the other members of the Airplane were no strangers to drugs. After taking LSD and listening to the Miles Davis album, Sketches of Spain, Slick was inspired to write the song while she was still in a band called The Great Society with her first husband. When she joined the Airplane in 1966, she offered them the song. It became one of their biggest hits. The video is of a 1967 performance on The Smothers Brothers Comedy Hour. It's quite trippy. Perhaps the best-known performance of the song, however, was on August 17, 1969 . . . at Woodstock.

It was on this day, November 26, in 1865 that Lewis Carroll's Alice's Adventures in Wonderland was first published in America. Although many of us were introduced to it through the 1951 Disney cartoon movie, the book remains a classic in children's literature. In 1971, a "diary" of a drug addict was published, aptly titled Go Ask Alice. It scared the crap out of us.

But scarier now is the current political climate which reminds us daily just how far down the rabbit hole we have fallen. We seem to be moving swiftly to the time when logic and proportion have fallen sloppy dead.

Be wary of the men on the chessboard.

I Shall Be Released

Listen while you read:  from The Last Waltz

They say everything can be replaced
They say every distance is not near
So I remember every face
Of every man who put me here

I see my light come shining
From the west down to the east
Any day now, any day now
I shall be released

They say every man needs protection
They say that every man must fall
Yet, I swear I see my reflection
Somewhere so high above this wall

I see my light come shining
From the west down to the east
Any day now, any day now
I shall be released

Now, yonder stands a man in this lonely crowd
A man who swears he's not to blame
All day long, I hear him shouting so loud
Just crying out that he was framed

I see my light come shining
From the west down to the east
Any day now, any day now
I shall be released

~  Bob Dylan

Forty-one years ago, on November 25, 1976, The Band played their farewell concert at San Francisco's Winterland. Two years later, The Last Waltz, a documentary film of the concert by Martin Scorsese, was released. I have watched this film, arguably one of the best rock movies ever, more times than I can count. The link above will treat you to the live performance of this song, the closing number (other than the encores) of the night.

After sixteen years on the road, The Band decided to give it up. This was mostly Robbie Robertson's idea. Although there was a later reincarnation of The Band without Robertson, it was never quite the same. With Richard Manuel's suicide and the subsequent deaths of Rick Danko and Levon Helm, only Garth Hudson and Robertson remain. For a (perhaps biased) account of The Band's journey, read Levon Helm's This Wheel's on Fire. In it, he addresses Robertson's micro-managing of The Last Waltz, largely responsible for the estrangement of Helm and Robertson. One of Helm's main complaints was Robertson's dismissive attitude toward Richard Manuel. In the song linked above, you can hear Manuel's gorgeous voice but not see his face. But you see lots of Robertson singing, although legend has it that Robertson's mike was always turned off during live performances, as he had a hard time carrying a tune. Ego is a powerful motivator.

But back to the song. Throughout the concert, there were performances by several guest artists. For the closing number, several joined in on "I Shall Be Released." Can you identify them all? Look for Bob Dylan, Ringo Starr, Ronnie Wood, Joni Mitchell, Neil Young, Neil Diamond, Ronnie Hawkins, and Van Morrison.

When the movie came out in 1978, it was being featured at a small theatre in a nearby town. My guy and I joined only a few other couples in the theatre audience. It wasn't long after the film started that half of them got up and left the theatre. I guess they thought The Last Waltz was some sentimental love story, not a rock and roll movie.

A sentimental love story. Well, I guess it actually is.

Black Friday

Listen while you read:  It's not what you think.

When Black Friday comes
I stand by the door
And catch the grey men
When they dive from the 14th floor

When Black Friday comes
I collect everything I'm owed
And before my friends find out
I'll be on the road

When Black Friday falls
You know it's got to be
Don't let it fall on me

When Black Friday comes
I fly down to Muswellbrook
Gonna strike all the big red words
From my little black book

Gonna do just what I please
Gonna wear no socks and shoes
With nothing to do
But feed all the kangaroos

When Black Friday comes
I'll be on that hill
You know I will

When Black Friday comes
I'm gonna dig myself a hole
Gonna lay down in it
Till I satisfy my soul

Gonna let the world pass by me
The Archbishop's gonna sanctify me
And if he don't come across
I'm gonna let it roll

When Black Friday comes
I'm gonna stake my claim
I guess I'll change my name

~  Donald Fagen & Walter Becker (Steely Dan)

I love listening to Steely Dan, always have. Most of the time, I have no idea what they're singing about. I google the lyrics, and I still have no idea what they're singing about. But I love listening to Steely Dan. "Black Friday," which I selected today for obvious reasons, is a track on 1975's Katy Lied.

So the song has absolutely nothing to do with the craziness of the day after Thanksgiving, when people gather at shopping malls to run over one another in their quest to grab up the best deals. I can tell you honestly that I have never, ever gone shopping on Black Friday, so I don't really get it. Seems somewhat masochistic to put oneself through that stress. But, again, that's not what the song is about. It references a gold crash in 1869. You can look it up if you're interested in what happened.

Muswellbrook is a rural town two hours north of Sydney, Australia, and it's full of kangaroos. Legend has it that Fagen and Becker just wanted a place far away, so they got out an atlas and landed a finger on a random place. A few years ago, I did a road trip with my family from the rainforest in Queensland down to Sydney, just in time for New Year's Eve. I guess I missed Muswellbrook. Good excuse to go back, eh?

Gonna do just what I please
Gonna wear no socks and shoes

Oooh, that sounds so good to me! (She said, clad in her thermal socks and fleece-lined Uggs and flannel shirt and sweatpants, not shopping.)

Alice's Restaurant Massacree

Listen while you read:  It's a Thanksgiving tradition!

You can get anything you want at Alice's Restaurant
You can get anything you want at Alice's Restaurant
Walk right in, it's around the back
Just a half a mile from the railroad track
You can get anything you want at Alice's Restaurant

~  Arlo Guthrie

Did you think I would type out the entire script? At 18 minutes and 34 seconds long, no way! I would like to believe that most of you know this song. If it's new to you, please, oh, please, listen to the entire thing! After all, it's a Thanksgiving tradition! (At least in my house it is.) Alice's Restaurant Massacree was released in 1967, two years after the Thanksgiving event that inspired it.

Arlo, of course, was Woody Guthrie's son, but he paved his own way through a time period far different from the one his father wrote and sang about. Part of the 1960s counterculture, Arlo was only eighteen when he received a citation for littering in Massachusetts on Thanksgiving 1965. That event snowballed into the hysterically funny draft board scene which makes up the main content of the song's story. It is amazing that we could find humor in something as horrendous as a draft that sent young men into war.

I'm sittin' here on the Group W bench 'cause you want to know if I'm moral enough to join the Army -- burn women, kids, houses, and villages -- after bein' a litterbug."

About a decade ago, I got to see Arlo and his family at the Rams Head Tavern in Annapolis. Although it wasn't Thanksgiving yet, he did perform this classic. Can you imagine delivering this lengthy monologue over and over and over again? But everybody loves it, and Arlo obliges.

I hope you can find 18 minutes in your day to enjoy this 50-year-old treasure. I guarantee it will make you smile!

The Day John Kennedy Died

Listen while you read:  Lou Reed

I dreamed I was the President of the United States
I dreamed I replaced ignorance, stupidity, and hate
I dreamed the perfect union and a perfect law, undenied
And most of all, I dreamed I forgot the day John Kennedy died

I dreamed that I could do the job that others hadn't done
I dreamed that I was uncorrupt and fair to everyone
I dreamed I wasn't gross or base, a criminal on the take
And most of all, I dreamed I forgot the day John Kennedy died

Oh, the day John Kennedy died
Oh, the day John Kennedy died

I remember where I was that day; I was upstate in a bar
The team from the university was playing football on TV
Then the screen went dead and the announcer said
"There's been a tragedy. There are unconfirmed reports
The President's been shot and he may be dead or dying"

Talking stopped, someone shouted, "What?"
I ran out to the street. People were gathered everywhere
Saying, "Did you hear what they said on TV?"
And then a guy in a Porsche with his radio hit his horn
And told us the news. He said 
"The President's dead. He was shot twice in the head in Dallas
And they don't know by whom

I dreamed I was the President of the United States
I dreamed I was young and smart and it was not a waste
I dreamed that there was a point to life and to the human race
I dreamed that I could somehow comprehend that someone shot him in the face

Oh, the day John Kennedy died . . . 

~  Lou Reed

It was 54 years ago. And there are many of us (Baby Boomers) who will never forget where we were or what we were doing on that day. Lou Reed remembered. I find it interesting that Lou Reed died four years ago, one month before we marked the 50th anniversary of JFK's death. "The Day John Kennedy Died" is on 1982's The Blue Mask.

If you are of a certain age, you can tell your own story of when and where and how you heard the news. I suppose it is the equivalent of knowing where you were when you learned of the planes flying into the Twin Towers in NYC on September 11, 2001, something that my kids' generation will be remembering when they are old like me.

This is my story:

I attended a small elementary school in a rural community, one class per grade. It was Friday, which meant that the seventh and eighth grade girls had a combined health class while the boys had a study hall. So all the girls were in Mrs. Lawrence's room, watching a film called Growing Up and Liking It, a standard to teach us about getting our periods. (We all knew about it already, but oh, well.) It was after 2:00 p.m. when we eighth grade girls returned to our classroom to be greeted by the grim news. I can still recall grade school heart-throb Ford Margarum telling me, with a grin on his face, "The President's been shot." He was not grinning in any kind of glee. He was just being awkward and uncomfortable in delivering the news. Once we were all in the room, Mr. Sim explained to us what had happened. By then, JFK had already been pronounced dead. Shortly thereafter, we were sent home for the day. So much for growing up and liking it.

I was a very devout little Catholic back then. I believed in prayer back then. I was angry that our teachers had decided not to interrupt our Growing Up and Liking It film to inform us when my beloved President was shot. For years, I believed that if I had known, I could have prayed really hard, and he would have survived. (I do not hold the same belief about prayer these days.)

The next few days were spent glued to the television. Who can ever forget Jackie's blood-stained pink mohair suit and pillbox hat? Who can ever forget John Jr.'s salute as his father's caisson passed by? Who can forget the awkwardness of LBJ's oath as he became President? An entire nation grieved, mourned, questioned, and eventually, adjusted.

But back to Lou Reed. I dreamed that I was uncorrupt and fair to everyone. I dreamed I wasn't gross or base, a criminal on the take. I have one word: prescient.

So, let me ask you: where were you on November 22, 1963? I suspect most of you were not even born yet. Trust me on this: it was the end of the innocence. (But that's another song.)

Dumbed Down

Listen while you read:  This one's for you, Korey!

I came home, I crashed out, I turned on the TV
I lay down before it and let it wash over me
Then I saw her, not pretty, they took her to the surgeon
And he made her look better
It nearly made me cry
Next week, seven episodes back to back

Dumbed down
I'm watching it anyway
Dumbed down
There's nothing to do today
Dumbed down
They're painting the kitchen
Dumbed down
'Cause something is missing

Here comes the program that shows us what to wear
And not to look like the losers that we already are
Here comes another: they kidnap your mother
And hold her for ransom till you come up with the cash
Sounds crazy, but I'm ready to believe it

Dumbed down . . .

They've found a house that needs making over
Here's a family that eat too much
I just found out that my wife is a man!

I came home, I crashed out, I turned on the TV
And lay down before it and let it wash over me
Then I woke up next morning, the TV still playing
Right then it hit me: I hadn't missed a thing
Next week, seven episodes back to back

Dumbed down
I'm watching it anyway . . .

~  James Maddock

So Korey and I met for dinner last night, and over Very Veggie Ciabatta sandwiches, we waxed philosophical over the state of the nation. I offered my notion that we entered the escalating downslide of culture in this country with the onset of Reality TV. (This followed Korey's repeated definition of one unnamed person in her life as a "kardashian," as if it were a common noun. And I suppose it has become one.) On the drive home, James Maddock started singing in my ear. (I did not mind at all.) "Dumbed Down" is a track on his wonderful 2010 release, Sunrise on Avenue C. There's some killer piano by Oli Rockberger on the live video linked above.

Neither Korey nor I watch cable TV. But sometimes when Korey is traveling by herself, she finds herself in a hotel room . . . with a TV. On such occasions, she admits to channel-surfing. I learned a lot about Reality TV offerings from her descriptions of these shows, like the one where the moonshiners, who live in a swamp, disguise their still by putting a Maytag Dryer box over it. Because everyone who lives in a swamp needs a new Maytag dryer, right? That'll fool the deputy.

I do admit to watching a news show or two on my computer. Lately, I've been seeing a commercial about a new reality show called The Job Interview. If your idea of relaxing at the end of the day is watching other people being interviewed for jobs, and you call that entertainment, I . . . well, I just don't even know how to finish that sentence. How dumbed down can we possibly get?

My fear is that, like Trump riding down that escalator on June 16, 2016, we will only go lower and lower. Will we hit rock bottom? Will it be too late? Can America pick itself up, brush itself off, and try on some integrity and taste?

Next week, seven episodes back to back . . . 

Our House

Listen while you read:  . . . is a very, very, very fine house.

I'll light the fire
You place the flowers in the vase that you bought today
Staring at the fire for hours and hours
While I listen to you play your love songs
All night long for me, only for me

Come to me now and rest your head for just five minutes
Everything is good
Such a cozy room
The windows are illuminated
By the evening sunshine through them
Fiery gems for you, only for you

Our house is a very, very, very fine house
With two cats in the yard
Life used to be so hard
Now everything is easy 'cause of you

And . . . our . . . la, la, la . . . 

Our house is a very . . . 

I'll light the fire
You place the flowers in the vase that you bought today

~  Graham Nash

Graham Nash and Joni Mitchell lived together in Laurel Canyon back in 1969.  One morning, after they'd gone out for breakfast, they stopped at an antiques shop where Joni bought a cheap vase. Graham actually said that first line when they got home. He thought, "What an ordinary moment!" and he wrote the song. He doesn't really like the song, but plays it because everyone else likes it. You can find it on CSN&Y's Deja Vu from 1970.

When I started writing this post on a chilly, rainy day, I was entranced by the comfort that a fireplace can offer. And I thought about how nice "our house" is. But the "our" in "our house" changed almost fifteen years ago when my husband died. Since then, it's been "my" house as far as taking care of it goes. And as if the Universe was in on the joke, as soon as I called up the CSN&Y song, I became aware of a leak in my water tank! Emptying buckets of water all night long is not my idea of comfort.  I filled the bathtub, shut off the pump, and called my plumber. Ugh.

Ordinary moments. Flowers in a vase. Cats in the yard. Staring at the fire. This house used to have all of that, plus kids and dogs and a fishtank. Am I sounding too sentimental? While part of me is waxing nostalgic about the way it used to be, another part of me is cursing the burden of home ownership!

Now everything is easy 'cause of you. If that is true in your life, get up off your butt right now and sing it to your significant other. Punctuate it with a kiss.

My plumber will be here soon. I might just plant one on his cheek in gratitude!

Joni and Graham

Come Back, Barack

Listen while you read:  From SNL!!!

I have a guest writer for today's blog! I'll be back tomorrow. Enjoy!

This time of year, I get thankful, baby
Thankful for you
But now you're gone and I don't know what to do
And you were so intelligent
And you were so strong
Waited my whole life for you
So damn long
And now I see you're moving on
And I'm begging, "Come back home!"

Every night I turn the TV on and cry
I say, "Why?"
I feel like we're all gonna die
So come back, Barack
Even though it's not allowed
We want you back somehow
I need you in my life
Come back, Barack
We didn't know just what we had
Now things are looking bad
Like really bad
Like World War bad
Like nuclear bad

So come back, Barack
I see you hang-glide
Living your life
Dropping your daughter off at college with your wife
And y'all look so damn happy
You deserve it, yeah
But I'm a selfish man
And I know that there's a Democrat
More than just a few
But when I think of change
The change I want is you
I'm in hell
Dreaming about you and Michelle

So come back, Barack
(C'mon, man, I'm in the rain)
Don't leave us here alone
(It's definitely too cold to be rained on)
So please pick up the phone
(I mean, I know you're finished with that library and everything)
The White House ain't a home
(Trump don't even got a dog, man)
Just come back, Barack

(The Speaking Part)
You know it's been a long time, Barack. Almost as long as since a guy talked over a record like this. Why would you leave us? Oh, 'cause you had to? Because of the Constitution? But you can come back, right? Oh, you can't? 'Cause that would undermine the very institutions that we're barely holding onto as it is? I see. I guess we stuck with this dude for a while then. Maybe you can come back and make a speech? How much would that cost? For real? Oh, no, we definitely can't afford that. So I'm just getting rained on for nothing. That's interesting. Well, you enjoy your retirement, homie.

Come back, Barack
(Keep change)
We need you oh so bad
(Super bad)
2020's looking sad
(Maybe Michelle can run?)
Like really sad
Like super sad
Like what-the-hell-we-gonna-do sad
(No, let's not put Michelle through that)
Come back, Barack
(But if she wanted to . . . )
I'd vote for Joe Biden
What about George Clooney?
I mean, that dude was Batman
That'd be cool!

You know what? I don't think the three of us have the firmest grasp on government, but Happy Thanksgiving, everybody!

~  Chance the Rapper with Kenan Thompson and Chris Redd

Dienda

Listen while you read:  Sting

How like the fall to be gone in a day
Just as the leaves had turned gold
I was drawn to a sound that the wind carried down
From an open window pane
And, oh, how like a song or a sad melody
To linger long after the end
And the harmony rings with the promise of spring
On a Broadway street

How like the fall to be gone in a day
Just as the trees had turned gold
I was drawn to this sound that some fingers had found
But now the winter seems to stay too long
How like a song or a sad melody
To linger long after it's gone
Though the window is closed and the questions it posed
On a Broadway street

How like the spring to return in a day
When everything seems to be new
But here's someone who's hoping the window is open
On that Brooklyn street again
Ond, oh, how like a song or a sweet melody
To linger after it's gone
Let the harmony ring with the promise of spring
On a Brooklyn street

~  Sting

So even though my daughter Jenna declined my invitation to be a guest writer today (as I am feeling a bit under the weather), she did recommend a song that fits the season. No surprise that it's one of Sting's songs, as he has been her favorite since she was nine years old. That means she's been loving Sting for two decades now. I still remember that little fourth grader belting out, "Their logic ties me up and rapes me," wondering if it was time for a little mother-daughter talk. Her younger brother, whose bedroom adjoined hers, had to fall asleep every night asking himself if the Russians love their children, too. I think Jenna has seen Sting seven or eight times, and I know I was with her for at least a couple of those concerts. The last time was in Massachusetts two years ago when he was touring with Peter Gabriel. Good show.

The concert responsible for this live version of "Dienda" took place in Tuscany, Italy. You may be surprised to learn the date. It was on September 11, 2001. Sting and his people made the decision to proceed with the planned event after hearing about the terrorist attack, and they dedicated the album, All This Time, to those who lost their lives that day.

The song "Dienda" was composed by Kenny Kirkland, but Sting provided the lyrics. Kirkland was the pianist for Sting's The Dream of the Blue Turtles, released in 1985. He died of congestive heart failure three years later on November 13, 1998. The song serves as an elegy for him.

Does that information make the song seem sadder to you? There's nothing new in using the changing seasons as metaphor for aging, and there is always the promise of spring to rescue us from our melancholy. But I have often wondered about those who live in locales that do not experience a real change in season. Here in the North, we can blame the cold and the wind for our blue moods. If your home is in the tropics, who/what do you blame? And who's better off?

Last night the temperature dipped down into the low 20s. It is dark by 4:30. This makes for an uneasy adjustment for me, but my house is warm enough and I sleep under a down blanket. And I'll let the music warm my soul.

Sting's Tuscany Villa

Waiting on the World to Change

Listen while you read:  . . . for a long, long time.

Me and all my friends
We're all misunderstood
They say we stand for nothing
And there's no way we ever could

Now we see everything that's going wrong
With the world and ask those who lead it
We just feel we don't have the means
To rise above and beat it

So we keep waiting, waiting on the world to change
We keep on waiting, waiting on the world to change
It's hard to beat the system when we're standing at a distance
So we keep waiting, waiting on the world to change

Now if we had the power
To bring our neighbors home from war
They would have never missed a Christmas
No more ribbons on their door

And when you trust your television
What you get is what you got
Because when they own the information
Oh, they can bend it all they want

So we keep waiting, waiting on the world to change
We keep on waiting, waiting on the world to change
It's not that we don't care; we just know that the fight isn't fair
So we keep waiting, waiting on the world to change

And we're still waiting, waiting on the world to change
We keep on waiting, waiting on the world to change
One day our generation is going to rule the population
So we keep waiting, waiting on the world to change

~  John Mayer

Although I like his work, I am only marginally informed on John Mayer. If I remember correctly, he went through a rather obnoxious phase, but it seems that he has gotten his shit together since then. His participation in Dead & Company is evidence. I was able to watch the live stream of the Dead & Company performances over 4th of July weekend at Soldier Field in Chicago in 2015. Mayer was damn good and fit right in. However, I do have to admit that I was surprised to learn today that "Waiting on the World to Change," which I hear often on my chosen radio stations, dates back to 2006 and the release of Continuum. I mean, seriously, I thought he wrote it, like maybe a year ago? (Hmmmm . . . and what happened a year ago that might have prompted the song?)

In reading listeners' comments on the song, there seemed to be some disagreement over whether or not Mayer was advocating for people to just wait, as opposed to actually doing something. I do not think that is his message. I think he is acknowledging that there are powers at work whose sole mission is to thwart any attempts by grass roots to have an impact on the way they think the world should be. (Names like Koch and Mercer and Adelson come to mind.) There is logic in the RESIST and PERSIST movements, but our patience is required, as hard as that is.

And when you trust your television, what you get is what you got. True dat. And therein lies much of the problem. I will not argue that there is no "fake news." But I will posit that the finger is being pointed in the wrong direction.

The most disturbing thing, at least today, is that the House passed the Republican tax plan, which comes complete with many ways to keep young people standing at a distance. One of the most despicable components of the tax plan is to consider graduate student grants and scholarships and fellowships as income, subject to tax. So a poor grad student who gets a grant for a $60,000 masters program at Duke University will be required to pay taxes on that $60,000 "income." The fact that the "income" is in the form of a tuition waiver and the student has no money doesn't seem to matter. So think about this: a young person seeking education to be able to more fully contribute to society in a meaningful way will be unfairly taxed in order to provide tax breaks to the uber-wealthy. Fair?

It gets worse. There is only one reason to make education a target here. By keeping citizens uneducated, those in power can better control them and their votes. This is a tactic that has been used throughout history to great success. Did you know that it was illegal for slaves to learn to read during that dark time in our history?

Call your Senator.

Bare Trees

Listen while you read:  Fleetwood Mac

Bare trees, gray light
Oh, yeah, it was a cold night
Bare trees, gray light

I was alone in the cold of a winter's day
You were alone and so snug in your bed
I was alone in the cold of a winter's day
You were alone and so snug in your bed

Bare trees, gray light
Oh, yeah, it was a cold night
Bare trees, gray light

~ Daniel Kirwan (for Fleetwood Mac)

Not much to the lyrics, right? Having loved this song for so many years, I was somewhat surprised to revisit it for this post and realize how minimal the lyrics are. I mean, there are basically four lines! Apply, rinse, repeat. Danny Kirwan was only 22 when he wrote this song, so we'll cut him some slack. It appears on the album of the same name, released in 1972. For me, the album serves as part of the soundtrack for my first year teaching in Bumblefuck, Pennsylvania. Music saved me.

Kirwan was inspired by a poem written by the ancient "Mrs. Scarrott" called "Thoughts on a Gray Day." It's a terrible poem, but if you want to hear it, it can be found as the last track on the album. Truly, Mrs. Scarrott must be the "sentimental lady" in the song of the same title.

In defense of the shortage of lyrics in the song, we can compare it to the bare trees, so beautifully portrayed on the album's cover. (I have often cited the Bare Trees album cover as my favorite.) The lyrics give us color (or lack thereof), light, stark imagery, and temperature. Our senses travel from the cold of a winter's day to the warmth of one's bed. Oh, yeah.

You guessed it. I am back in the cold north, and yes, the trees are bare for the most part. I will seek to find the beauty in this landscape while I am here, and given that my visit will be brief, I don't think that will be hard to do. Call me sentimental, but this is home.

River

Listen while you read:  Leon Bridges

Been traveling these wide roads for so long
My heart's been far from you
Ten thousand miles gone

Oh, I wanna come near and give ya every part of me
But there's blood on my hands
And my lips aren't clean

In my darkness I remember
Momma's words reoccur to me
"Surrender to the good Lord
And he'll wipe your slate clean"

Take me to your river
I wanna go
Oh, go on, take me to your river
I wanna know

Tip me in your smooth waters
I go in as a man with many crimes
Come up for air
As my sins flow down the Jordan

Oh, I wanna come near and give ya every part of me
But there's blood on my hands
And my lips aren't clean

Take me to your river
I wanna go
Oh, go on, take me to your river
I wanna know

I wanna go, wanna go, wanna go
I wanna know, wanna know, wanna know

Take me to your river
I wanna go
Lord, please let me know
Take me to your river
I wanna go

~ Leon Bridges (et al)

A gospel song? She posted a gospel song? Really?

Yes, really. Back in May, I posted Leon Bridges' song "Coming Home." Since then, I have only grown to like him more and more. If that means opening up my ears to some gospel music, so be it. "River" is a track on Bridges' debut album, Coming Home, released in 2015 when he was just about to turn 26 years old. So, yeah, he's now 28. An old soul, though.

I hope you watched the video linked above. It seeks to offer a glimpse into the lives of many people who live in impoverished and predominantly black communities. Consider how powerfully the happenstance of our beginnings impacts who we become and what kind of lives we live. But regardless of our environment, Bridges posits that we can all seek change and redemption if we surrender to the good Lord. "I want this video to be a message of light. I believe it has the power to change and heal those that are hurting."

You certainly know by now that I am no fan of organized religion. I can barely acknowledge a deity (whether or not it sports a capital D). When confronted with my lack of understanding in regard to faith, I always return to my favorite Rumi quote, "There are a hundred ways to kneel and kiss the ground." Religion is not my chosen way, but I do want to honor the choice in others.

Which brings me to the politics of this post. (You knew it was coming.) I'm talking about Roy Moore, the Republican Senatorial candidate in Alabama, running to claim Jeff Sessions' seat. In case you've been living under a rock (not a bad choice these days), Moore, who has a history of racism, misogyny, homophobia, arrogance, and defiance of the law, has been accused by at least five women of having harassed or molested them when they were underage and he was in his 30s. He, of course, denies the charges.

But here's the kicker. Moore has always portrayed himself as a devout evangelical Christian. His "defiance of the law" involved him refusing to remove a 5,200 lb. statue of the Ten Commandments from his courtroom. And yet, he uses his religion to justify his belief that homosexuality should be illegal and that Islam cannot be practiced in the United States. His positions on so many issues that impact people who do not share his beliefs is exhausting. And yet, he remains popular in Alabama, where people readily admit that they would rather elect a pedophile than a Democrat.

And he'll wipe your slate clean. Oh, if it were only that simple! So people like Roy Moore can simply apologize to their God and begin all over again to molest and attack and mete out injustice on those who are vulnerable or defenseless? There's something wrong with this method.

Leon Bridges reminds me that there are many good people counted among the ranks of the religious. As easy as it is to point out the hypocrisy of so many who claim that God sanctions their behavior, I want to keep perspective on the issue. I want to honor those who turn to the church for spirituality, and in return, I would want them to honor my choice not to. But people like Roy Moore?

Sorry, no.

Good People

Listen while you read:  Where'd they all go?

Well, you win, it's your show now
So what's it gonna be?
'Cause people will tune in
How many train wrecks do we need to see
Before we lose track of
We thought this was low
It's bad, getting worse, so

Where'd all the good people go?
I've been changing channels
I don't see them on the TV shows
Where'd all the good people go?
We got heaps and heaps of what we sow

They got this and that with a rattle of tat
Testing, one, two
Man, what you gonna do?
Bad news, mis-used
Got too much to lose
Gimme some truth
Now whose side are we on?
Whatever you say, turn on the boob tube
I'm in the mood to obey
So lead me astray, and by the way, now

Where'd all the good people go?
I've been changing channels
I don't see them on the TV shows
Where'd all the good people go?
We got heaps and heaps of what we sow

Sitting around feeling far away
So far away, but I can feel the debris
Can you feel it?
You interrupt me from a friendly conversation
To tell me how great it's gonna be
You might notice some hesitation
It's important to you; it's not important to me
But way down by the edge of your reason
Well, it's beginning to show
And all I really want to know is

Where'd all the good people go?
I've been changing channels
I don't see them on the TV shows
Where'd all the good people go?
We got heaps and heaps of what we sow

They got this and that . . . 

Station through station

Desensitizing the nation

Where'd all the good people go?

Going, going, gone

~  Jack Johnson

I have long thought that the "dumbing down of America" began with Reality TV. I do remember being excited about the 2000 premiere of Survivor, one of the first reality TV shows, but that was because I was teaching Lord of the Flies, and the theme of survival was so timely. In my opinion, it didn't take long for that show to go down the tubes, accompanied by all sorts of horrors, like The Bachelor and Keeping up with the Whoevers and Here Comes Honey Boo Boo. (I must make it clear here . . . I never saw any of these shows.) I suspect that Jack Johnson had the same remorse as I did, as evidenced by the release of this song on In Between Dreams in 2005.

While I understand how Hillary offended people with her "basket of deplorables" comment in the 2016 election campaign, the truth is that our culture has directed its attention to the bottom-feeders, something which I can only assume was designed to get votes and sell product. Surely, the demographic that wants to watch Toddlers and Tiaras or Dating Naked or The Pick-up Artist (again, never saw these shows) is not in a position to make huge campaign donations. But they do have a vote in our democracy. And they do shop, especially if they become convinced that the product being hawked will lead to happiness. They got this and that . . . 

But the dearth of good people is not limited to any categorization of the populace. Lately, we have witnessed the outing of celebrities, athletes, and politicians as molesters, pedophiles, and just downright creepy people. This onslaught of breaking news begs the question: Where'd all the good people go?

Yes, I know that there are a gazillion good people out there. I want to believe that they (we) far outnumber the train wrecks. But as long as Media remains the God of America, we will continue to be victimized by a culture that tries to lead us astray. And all for the sake of profit.

Station through station

Desensitizing the nation

See the Sky About to Rain

Listen while you read:  Neil Young

See the sky about to rain, broken clouds and rain
Locomotive, pull the train, whistle blowing through my brain
Signals curling on an open plain, rolling down the track again
See the sky about to rain

Some are bound for happiness
Some are bound to glory
Some are bound to live with less
Who can tell your story?

See the sky about to rain, broken clouds and rain
Locomotive, pull the train, whistle blowing through my brain
Signals curling on an open plain, rolling down the track again
See the sky about to rain

I was down in Dixie Land
Played a silver fiddle
Played it loud and then the man
Broke it down the middle

See the sky about to rain, broken clouds and rain
Locomotive, pull the train, whistle blowing through my brain
Signals curling on an open plain, rolling down the track again
See the sky about to rain

~  Neil Young

Pretty easy to guess what inspired today's song selection, right? I'm looking at clouds and thunderstorms for the next three days. It is hard to ignore the way weather can impact our moods. "See the Sky About to Rain" is on Neil Young's fifth album, On the Beach, released in 1974. This was supposed to be the highly anticipated follow-up to the very successful Harvest album, but it didn't get great reviews and then sort of got lost for a number of years. It wasn't even made into a CD until 2003. Today, it has garnered a much different reputation, maybe due in part to its mysterious debut.

In an interview with Rolling Stone in 1975, Neil had this to say about the album: "On the Beach is probably one of the most depressing records I've ever made. I don't want to get down to the point where I can't even get up. I mean, there's something to going down there and looking around, but I don't know about sticking around."

I like that thought. Some are bound for happiness and some just aren't. For most of us, there's a balance of happy and sad. And that's the key word: balance. I know when I "go down there," I let myself wallow in it for a bit. But I usually get bored with it and pull myself up and out of it. And I am grateful that I can do that.

Three days of T-storms, and then I'm heading back north for a couple of weeks where the high temps will only reach the mid-40s and the lows will be in the 20s. I can take the cold, and I don't really mind the storms. But both at the same time? Here's to the hoped-for sunny days!

Don't Dream It's Over

Listen while you read:  Crowded House (not friggin' Miley Cyrus)

There is freedom within, there is freedom without
Try to catch the deluge in a paper cup
There's a battle ahead, many battles are lost
But you'll never see the end of the road
While you're traveling with me

Hey now, hey now
Don't dream it's over
Hey now, hey now
When the world comes in
They come, they come
To build a wall between us
We know they won't win

Now I'm towing my car, there's a hole in the roof
My possessions are causing me suspicion but there is no proof
In the paper today tales of war and of waste
But you turn right over to the TV page

Hey now, hey now . . . 

Now I'm walking again to the beat of a drum
And I'm counting the steps to the door of your heart
Only shadows ahead barely clearing the roof
Get to know the feeling of liberation and release

Hey now, hey now . . . 

Don't let them win . . . 

~ Neil Finn

Trying to keep track of the Finn Brothers (of whom Craig Finn is no relation) and their various musical connections is the New Zealand / Australian equivalent of trying to keep track of the relationships between Buffalo Springfield and The Byrds and The Flying Burrito Brothers and The Eagles, etc. I think some of you know what I mean. "Don't Dream It's Over" dates back to 1986 when Neil and Tim Finn were part of Crowded House and appears on the album named for the band.

As I'm sure you've noticed, it has become my habit to connect the songs I select with various issues going on in the world. It's really become so easy to do so. For example, it is amazing how many songs have walls in the lyrics, including this one. But I'm weary of the practice, so I am going to avoid it today.

Instead, I'll let Neil Finn do the talking: "I wrote that one on my brother's piano. I'm not sure if I remember what the context was, exactly, but it was just about on the one hand feeling kind of lost, and on the other hand, sort of urging myself on. 'Don't dream it's over.' That one actually fell out literally without me thinking about it too much."

Regardless of the politics of the world, we all feel lost at times. We all contemplate giving up. And some of us do. But maybe there's still that voice within that says Don't let them win. I hope you can hear it.

I hope we all hear it.

I Remember (It's Happening Again)

Listen while you read:  Veterans Day

Well, my Grandpa fought in World War II, my uncle fought in Nam
My father was too young; he went to school and met my mom
And her dad always told us stories around dinner time
And there's one he told when I was young that sticks out in my mind

He said, "Ten years after Daddy taught me about the birds and bees
I was stranded in Pearl Harbor fighting off the Japanese
When the kamikaze pilots came and dove in without warning
I was on the Arizona on a warm December morning

I remember when I was a younger man
We were soldiers fighting in a foreign land
Now I'm older, and it's happening again

It was hard to have forgiveness for the things they did that day
And our President decided we should make their people pay
So we dropped one on Nagasaki and we cut them down to size
And the one we dropped on Hiroshima left them vaporized

And I heard some Christians say, 'What would Jesus do?
What if you were on the wrong side, would he point the gun at you?'
And they read through every word of Matthew, Mark, and Luke, and John
So they could see if killing was the side that Christ was on

I remember when I was a younger man
We were soldiers fighting in a foreign land
Now I'm older, and it's happening again

And they separate the church and state and keep God out of schools
So our governments can educate based upon their rules
But people start to wonder if our politics make sense
When religion is our best excuse for national defense

And when our citizens start saying that our wars are not okay
And Washington keeps telling them God loves the USA
And they teach us history so we can learn from our mistakes
And this generation wants to know how many years it takes
To change the way we treat our neighbors all across the land
'Cause if we don't change our hearts, we repeat the past again"

When my Grandpa finished talking, we went walking, he and I
I was thinking of the future and how scared I was to die
Now my best friend's overseas in the desert where it's dry
Fighting for our country and I need a reason why

I remember when he was a younger man
Now he's a soldier fighting in a foreign land
Now he's older. God, bring him home again

~  Griffin House

A few years ago, a close family member accused me of being "anti-military." Nothing could be further from the truth. My father served in the Philippines during WWII, and my maternal grandfather fought in France in WWI. I have friends who served in Vietnam. I have uncles, cousins, and nephews who have served in the U.S. Armed Forces.  My next-door neighbors both served in Afghanistan. I have always been most proud of my mother's WWII service as a SPAR in the U.S. Coast Guard. I was shocked to have been labeled "anti-military" and questioned my accuser. She assumed that because I am anti-WAR, I must be anti-military. This makes no sense to me. Because I don't want our service people to die in wars, I am against their service? Seriously?

Today is Veterans Day, the one where we honor those who served our country (as opposed to Memorial Day, when we honor those who perished in their service). Searching for a song for today's post was difficult . . . until I came upon this one by Griffin House, a thirtysomething singer/songwriter from Ohio. It tells a story and makes a political statement that relies more on that personal account than on ideology. It appears on Flying Upside Down, released in 2007, right smack in the middle of the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. The video, too, is compelling. Please watch it.

Once again, we are living with the possibility that we may enter into yet another conflict with a foreign country, this time with nuclear weapons. I still remember reading John Hersey's Hiroshima when I was a teenager and being unable to wrap my head around that dark moment in our history. I still can't. Did we learn from our mistakes? Or will we repeat the past again?

There is no need for me to proselytize here. I think the song says it better than I can. And closing with "Thank you for your service" sounds so hollow to me. To those of you who have served, I will say that I am in awe of your courage and commitment, that I am grateful that you are home safe, that I wish you peace in your heart.

And to the Masters of War, I will resurrect an old hippie standard and offer this:

What About Everything?

Listen while you read:  Click the play button for this video.

Holiday quiet on these streets
Except for some stubborn leaves
That didn't fall, and now they clatter in vain
Holiday sky, midnight clear
Wind is high, hard to steer
Old muffler rumbles like an old fighter plane
In search of some rest, in search of a break
From a life of tests where something's always at stake
Where something's always so far
What about my broken car?
What about my life so far?
What about my dream?
What about . . . 

What about everything?
What about aeroplanes?
And what about ships that drank the sea?
What about . . . 
What about the moon and stars?
What about soldier battle scars
And all the anger that they eat?
I am not in need

Get away and come with me
Come away with me and we'll see
If I was right on that night, that a future was made
Before time takes each year, like a knife cuts it clear
It's school, then work, and then life that just sharpens the blade
I think about time for fun
I think about time for play
Then I think about being done, with no resume
With no one left to blame
What about fortune and fame?
What about your love to obtain?
What about the ring?
What about . . . 

What about everything?
What about aeroplanes?
And what about ships that drank the sea?
What about . . . 
What about the moon and stars?
What about soldier battle scars
And all the anger that they eat?
I am not in need

Holiday quiet on these streets, except for some reason me
The hometown harbor lights bright, the sailboats clatter in vain
Holiday sky, midnight clear
Wind is high on this pier
I find it hard to complain when compared with what about . . . 

What about everything?
What about aeroplanes?
And what about ships that drank the sea?
What about . . . 
What about the moon and stars?
What about soldier battle scars
And all the anger that they eat?
What about aliens? What about you and me?
What about gold beneath the sea?
What about . . . 
What about when buildings fall?
What about that midnight phone call?
The one that wakes you from your peace?
Well, I am not, I am not in need

~ Carbon Leaf

Whenever Shuffle treats me to this song, I remember how much I love it. And today (which would have been my mother's 96th birthday), it entered my brain through my earbuds and then stayed with me. So I'll share it with you. The video linked above might be a treat, too, depending on whether or not you are old enough to remember Warner Brothers cartoons. Some clever person illustrated the song with clips from those old cartoons. So, go ahead, treat yourself. Carbon Leaf is a Richmond-based band, and the song appears on their 2004 release, Indian Summer.

Although there's a "holiday" tomorrow, I doubt if Veterans Day was the one Carbon Leaf had in mind. But then again, there are old fighter planes and aeroplanes and ships and soldier battle scars in the song, not to mention buildings falling and midnight phone calls that wake you from your peace. So maybe. But whether or not there's a connection there, I find the song compelling for many reasons.

It seems that lately, the number of issues on our collective plate are enough to make us throw up our hands and yell "Uncle!" And that's not taking into account anyone's individual worries, like relationships and broken cars and unemployment and finding time to play. It's all summed up quite neatly in the unanswerable question, "What about everything?" (I think maybe we can scratch the aliens off our list of things to worry about, assuming it refers to aliens from outer space.)

But the point here, I think, is to try to put our worries into perspective. I find it hard to complain when compared with . . . (fill in the blank). And of course, worrying solves nothing and helps no one.

Before time takes each year, like a knife cuts it clear
It's school, then work, and then life that just sharpens the blade

Spend your time wisely. Don't waste it on worry. Right, Mom?

Rockin' in the Free World

Listen while you read:  Post election BLUEs?

There's colors on the street
Red, white, and blue
People shufflin' their feet
People sleepin' in their shoes
But there's a warning sign on the road ahead
There's a lot of people saying we'd be better off dead
Don't feel like Satan, but I am to them
So I try to forget it any way I can

Keep on rockin' in the free world
Keep on rockin' in the free world
Keep on rockin' in the free world
Keep on rockin' in the free world

I see a woman in the night
With a baby in her hand
Under an old street light
Near a garbage can
Now she puts the kid away, and she's gone to get a hit
She hates her life and what she's done to it
There's one more kid that will never go to school
Never get to fall in love, never get to be cool

Keep on rockin' in the free world . . . 

We got a thousand points of light
For the homeless man
We got a kinder, gentler
Machine gun hand
We got department stores and toilet paper
Got styrofoam boxes for the ozone layer
Got a man of the people, says keep hope alive
Got fuel to burn, got roads to drive

Keep on rockin' in the free world . . . 

~  Neil Young

I'm a little bit blue about election results in my home county, but I am happily "blue" about the governor-elect in my home state! I'm ready to keep on rockin' in the free world. Written as a criticism of George W. Bush's administration, the song has had a complicated life ever since. While the verses point to our problems (still the same ones, by the way), the chorus sounds like a rallying cry. "Don't give up!" And that's what those of us who lean left are thinking now.

The song appears on Young's 1989 release, Freedom. Although Young is a champion of the environment and an advocate for social justice, he is no sheep. He's not even an American citizen! But if he leans in any direction, it would certainly be left. So there was a bit of a brouhaha back in 2015 when Donald Trump announced his candidacy for President and used "Rockin' in the Free World" as part of that announcement. Young claimed that he did not give Trump permission to do so, but as it turned out, the song was legally available for use. So Neil backed off, but explained his position on his Facebook page, saying that he has a problem with the corporate dominance in America, something which Trump certainly symbolizes. And after the dust settled, the Trump campaign stopped using the song, with DT saying he didn't really like the song that much anyway.

So look at the verses. In the first one, there's the suggestion of war, with the reference to the Iranian Ayatollah Khomeini calling America the "Great Satan." There's a warning sign on the road ahead. In the second verse, our opioid crisis is front and center. And the third verse hints at homelessness, the compromised environment, and the gun culture which has only become more pronounced. And yet the man of the people says keep hope alive.

Meet the new boss, same as the old boss. Although I, like many, think that, comparatively, W wasn't so bad. Ugh.

But Tuesday's elections offered some of that hope that we might keep alive. So let's keep on rocking' in the free world, okay?

Taxman

Listen while you read:  Joe Bonamassa!

Let me tell you how it will be
There's one for you, nineteen for me
'Cause I'm the taxman, yeah, I'm the taxman

Should five percent appear too small
Be thankful I don't take it all
'Cause I'm the taxman, yeah, I'm the taxman

If you drive a car, I'll tax the street
If you try to sit, I'll tax your seat
If you get too cold, I'll tax the heat
If you take a walk, I'll tax your feet

Don't ask me what I want it for
If you don't want to pay some more
'Cause I'm the taxman, yeah, I'm the taxman

Now my advice for those who die
Declare the pennies on your eyes
'Cause I'm the taxman, yeah, I'm the taxman
And you're working for no one but me

~  George Harrison

This Beatles tune appeared on 1966's Revolver, but the version linked above is the amazing Joe Bonamassa, an American blues rock guitarist, singer and songwriter. The video was filmed last October at The Cavern Club in Liverpool, right across the street from the now-demolished Cavern where The Beatles got their start. Bonamassa's rendition of the song is absofuckinglutely wonderful. Turn it up loud!

As I'm writing this post before yesterday's election results are in, I needed to turn my attention elsewhere, and of the many breaking news stories at our disposal, the new "Tax Cuts and Jobs Act" (HR1) plan is getting some attention, although probably not enough. While both parties claim to be supporting the dying middle class, from what I can see, this GOP tax proposal does nothing to help us out. Unless, of course, you happen to be rich already.

And here's what really got me: in video of hearings on the proposal, Congresswoman Suzan DelBene (D-WA) asked Tom Barthold (Chief of Staff of the Joint Committee on Taxation) a lot of questions pertaining to how the plan would benefit both corporations and regular lower and middle class wage-earners. In the plan, regular homeowners are limited to claiming deductions on up to $10,000 of real estate taxes (which, in my home state, is on the low end of the scale). However, corporations can claim their entire property tax amount as a deduction. While HR1 would eliminate deductions for moving expenses for families who have to relocate for their jobs, corporations can still claim those deductions, even if they move their businesses outside of the United States. Are you pissed off yet?

Well, here's the real kicker: under HR1, teachers can no longer deduct the cost of supplies for their classrooms (pens, pencils, paper, books, etc.), but corporations can deduct all of their business supply expenses! We're talking about pencils and paper, people! Many schools stopped supplying these necessities years ago. Most of the teachers I know are spending hundreds of dollars every year to keep their students equipped with the things they need to succeed. And the cost comes out of their own pockets. But corporations get the write-off.

And it's not just teachers getting screwed. Firefighters, law enforcement workers, basically all middle-income wage-earners.

And you're working for no one but me . . .