Carolina in My Mind

Listen while you read:  https://youtu.be/78O6--THTF0

In my mind I'm gone to Carolina
Can't you see the sunshine?  Can't you just feel the moonshine?
Ain't it just like a friend of mine to hit me from behind?
Yes, I'm gone to Carolina in my mind

There ain't no doubt in no one's mind that love's the finest thing around
Whisper something soft and kind and hey, babe, the sky's on fire
I'm dying, ain't I?
Gone to Carolina in my mind

~  James Taylor

If the fates allow, I will be in North Carolina when you read this, and not only in my mind.  I am driving up to Durham to visit my daughter, stopping in Daytona (where I am writing this) on my way, visiting with a dear friend.  I have a long drive ahead of me, so this post may be brief.

But Carolina has long been in my mind.  I honeymooned on the Outer Banks with my new husband and my dogs back in 1984.  (And who honeymoons with their dogs?)  And from 1989 to 2002, every August found me and my family soaking in the rays on the beach at Southern Shores.  OBX is a heart spot for us all.  And though we have not visited there in a few years, I feel certain that I will find myself on those shores again one day.  Beach, books, and beer . . . that's my kind of vacation.  Well, one of them.

And who doesn't love James Taylor?  At the time that he wrote and recorded this song, back in 1968, James was reportedly in a psychiatric facility, trying to kick a heroin addiction.  Because he was unable to tour and promote his debut album at the time, the song never made it into the Top 100.  But after the success of "Fire and Rain" in 1970, Apple re-released "Carolina in My Mind" and it performed well.  And James Taylor went on to become, well, the beloved James Taylor that we still know today.

Dark and silent, late last night, I think I might have heard the highway call
And geese in flight and dogs that bite, the signs that might be omens say
I'm going, I'm going
I'm gone to Carolina in my mind

U. S. Blues

Listen while you read:https://youtu.be/RTKgSCW-dTk

I'm Uncle Sam, that's who I am
Been hidin' out in a rock and roll band
Shake the hand that shook the hand
Of P.T. Barnum and Charlie Chan

Shine your shoes, light your fuse
Can you use them ol' U.S. Blues?
I'll drink your health, share your wealth
Run your life, steal your wife

Wave that flag, wave it wide and high
Summertime done come and gone, my oh my

Back to back, chicken shack
Son of a gun, better change your act
We're all confused, what's to lose?
You can call this song The United States Blues

~  Robert Hunter / Jerry Garcia (The Grateful Dead)

Although he is not an uncle yet, this song goes out to my son Sam!  Today he turns a quarter of a century old!  Happy Birthday, Sam!

Even if you know the song, you might enjoy the video linked above, whether or not you've seen it before.  On July 4, 2015, The Grateful Dead played one of their three shows at Soldier Field in Chicago.  Their encore was "U.S. Blues," and viewers were treated to a synchronized light show on the Empire State Building in New York City!  Lighting designer Marc Brickman was responsible for the LED light show, and it was magical.  Seriously, if you've never seen the video of it, click on the link above and be ready to tap your toes in sync with the music and the lights.

"U.S. Blues" was released in 1974 on From the Mars Hotel.  An annotated lyrics site can explain to you the various references, such as P.T. Barnum and Charle Chan, if these characters pre-date your awareness.  My favorite line needs no explanation:  We're all confused, what's to lose?  (Unfortunately, the answer is a lot!)

But this post is for my Sam.  At 25, possibilities spread out before him.  But in terms of careers, he was well on his way . . . until the current administration decided to freeze all "non-essential" government hiring and to begin dismantling the EPA. Having interned for the Bureau of Land Management, Sam was looking toward a career in some branch of government that dealt with environmental issues.  In his eyes now, that dream seems to be fading, and it is taking a toll on his desire to put into practice his knowledge and experience for the betterment of the planet.  This is heart-breaking, and Sam's story is just one of thousands.  Summertime done come and gone, my oh my.  This is a case of the U. S. Blues.

But Sam.  You are smart, you are clever, you are dedicated, you are compassionate.  Shine your shoes, light your fuse, and celebrate your birthday!  I'll drink your health!  I have no doubt that you will have the future toward which you have worked so hard.  Hang in there, buddy.  I love you!  Mom

Centerfield

Listen while you read:  https://youtu.be/04KQydlJ-qc

Got a beat-up glove, a home-made bat
And a brand new pair of shoes
You know I think it's time to give this game a ride
Just to hit the ball and touch 'em all
A moment in the sun
It's a-gone and you can tell that one goodbye

Oh, put me in, Coach, I'm ready to play today
Look at me -- I can be centerfield

~  John Fogerty

Spring training is underway, a sure sign of good things to come!  I'll be heading up to Tradition Field in Port St. Lucie next week to see the Mets beat the Cardinals.  And my son will be with me!

Following the end of Creedence Clearwater Revival, there was a lot of drama over contracts, producers, money, and who-knows-what-else.  John Fogerty made a couple of solo efforts, but it was the release of Centerfield ten years later in 1985 that put him back in the spotlight.  Despite the risk of doing a rock 'n roll song about a sport, the song remains a favorite today, a feel-good, nostalgic, all-American anthem to the sport that has captured the country's attention since the middle of the 19th century.  In discussing the song, Fogerty opined, "It is about baseball, but it is also a metaphor about getting yourself motivated, about facing the challenge of one thing or another, at least at the beginning of an endeavor."

As a baby-boomer, my childhood was pre-Title IX, the Education Amendment Act of 1972 that guaranteed girls access to participation in sports.  So sports for me was mostly sitting in the bleachers and cheering on the boys' Little League teams, deciding which one had the cutest players.  Was it the Farmers (who wore blue hats) or the Wallkills (who wore yellow)?  I recall favoring the blue, a coincidence that still bears true today, at least in the sport of politics.  I do remember having a small collection of baseball cards, which I bought mostly for the bubblegum.  The cards did make for a good motor sound when clothes-pinned to the spokes of my two-wheeler.  My favorite player was Don Drysdale, mostly because I liked the sound of his name.  Many years later, I read Doris Kearns Goodwin's Wait Till Next Year, part of which expounds upon the Dodgers' relocation from Brooklyn to Los Angeles in 1957.  It's a really good book, by the way.  And that pretty much sums up my personal history of baseball.

And then Sam came along.  As his only parent from the time he was ten, I spent a lot of time in the bleachers again, watching that cute catcher, swift base-stealer, and all-around team player give his all to the game he loved.  I miss those days.  When I drove Sam up to the University of Vermont seven years ago, a day which I have always said was one of the saddest and happiest of my life, we went to a sports bar for dinner.  Sam's eyes were drawn to a picture of Babe Ruth hanging on the wall over our table.  "He looks like Dad," Sam said.  I agreed with him; there was something in the Babe's eyes that reminded us of a thoughtful gaze that we knew well and missed profoundly.  And we still do.

And that boy Sam?  He will turn 25 tomorrow!  Anyone can understand the way I feel.

Marching Bands of Manhattan

Listen while you read:  https://youtu.be/be2LvYXOcSI

If I could open my arms
And span the length of the isle of Manhattan
I'd bring it to where you are
Making a lake of the East River and Hudson

If I could open my mouth
Wide enough for a marching band to march out
They would make your name sing
And bend through alleys and bounce off all the buildings

I wish we could open our eyes
To see in all directions at the same time
Oh, what a beautiful view
If you were never aware of what was around you

And it is true what you said
That I live like a hermit in my own head
But when the sun shines again
I'll pull the curtains and blinds to let the light in

Sorrow drips into your heart through a pinhole
Just like a faucet that leaks and there is comfort in the sound
But while you debate half empty or half full
It slowly rises, your love is gonna drown

~  Ben Gibbard (Death Cab for Cutie)

I was looking for a song to welcome in the month of March.  Although this song doesn't exactly fit the bill, despite the word "marching" in the title, I can make it apply.  Trust me.

From Death Cab for Cutie's 2005 release, Plans, "Marching Bands of Manhattan" is a song about mindfulness, about living in the moment.  I have been trying to master that philosophy for many years now, even attending a panel discussion on the topic in NYC two years ago.  Although the speakers were wonderful, I left the program in the same way that I leave a yoga retreat or a meditation class.  I feel like I am pretending to do yoga or meditate.  I'm still pretending to be mindful, but occasionally, I make some progress.

Mark Doty, one of America's best contemporary poets (and my thesis advisor when I was working toward my MFA), has made many thoughtful observations when discussing his work.  In his comments about one of his several poems about his dog, he noted that while humans "live in memory and anticipation," dogs "live in the now."  Having been owned by several dogs in my life, I can concede the truth in this.  We can learn a thing or two from our pets.

Ben Gibbard says of the song, "I'm the sort of person that's always dwelling on the destination rather than the journey.  Even when I'm in a great situation, there's always this moving thought that it all is going to have to end. 'Marching Bands' is about me trying not to fall back into old habits."  I hear you, Ben.  That is so me.  "Dwelling on the destination rather than the journey."  I am trying hard to remedy that.

So here we are, in March, the month when dreary winter gives way to ebullient spring.  Do we hurry the month along, eager for the rush of vernal exuberance?  Do we curse the insistence of frost, the brutal winds, the inevitable blizzard?  Or do we travel the month with mindful attention to the emergence of crocuses and daffodils, the spike in daytime temperatures, the lengthening daylight, the play of sun and shadow on the landscape?

We both know the right answer.  Now let's see if we can live in the now with patience, with grace, and with appreciation, finding comfort in the sound.

Poetry

Listen while you read:  https://youtu.be/bFG-buhIDEA

I kneel down and say grace for the comforts the world bestows on me
And the great corporations providing our every need
And those big neon signs telling us what to eat
And every shop window goods are designed to please
Oh, but I ask
Where is the poetry?

I'm looking at the sign that says, "Have a good day."
Well, I got too much on my mind and so many questions that get in the way
Everybody's looking for perfection
Once I heard a wise man say, "To get, sometimes you have to give away."

Where is the poetry?

~  Ray Davies

You remember The Kinks, right?  Well, Ray Davies is still at it!  His latest, Americana, will be released on April 21, but "Poetry" is a teaser.  With backup by The Jayhawks, the song has a pop-rock feel to it, but Davies' commentary on America's fascination with materialism is way more profound than pop-rock would allow.  Davies ponders a search for beauty in a world obsessed by things as opposed to ideas.

I am at an age where material possessions have come into question.  While, like most everyone, I spent decades furnishing my lifestyle with comfort and convenience and eye appeal, I have begun the arduous task of downsizing, economizing, and finding new homes for my worldly possessions.  It's harder than it sounds.  But letting go, when my loss benefits someone else, is liberating in a way I never would have imagined.  While I know it will take me years to get to a place where I feel comfortable about this, I am ready to embark on the effort.

But Davies does not tackle the problem of American excess in isolation.  He counters materialism with the simple question, "Where is the poetry?"  I think I know where it is.  I have encountered it in many places, some far from home and some in my own backyard.  I have found poetry on a hike to Delicate Arch in Utah, in the turquoise waters of the Caribbean, at the base of waterfalls in Pennsylvania and Australia, in a redwood grove in northern California, in a rainforest in Costa Rica, on a stubbled autumn cornfield across the street from my northern home.  I have experienced poetry while riding a mule into Bryce Canyon, floating in a hot-air balloon over the red rocks of Sedona, observing herons and anhingas at a Florida bird sanctuary, and while pondering the depths of a crater lake in Oregon.  I have felt poetry in the waves crashing on the both the east and west shores of my country, and in the exercise of planting a garden in my backyard and watching the magical growth of plants that will sustain me all summer long.

The poetry is there, if you are willing to look for it.  Personally, I don't think it exists in a piece of Ivanka Trump jewelry, but that's just me.  Set me down in a National Park, and I will show you some poetry.

Where is your poetry?

What's Going On?

Listen while you read:  https://youtu.be/EbZYRZpNc64

Mother, Mother, there's too many of you crying
Brother, Brother, Brother, there's far too many of you dying
You know you've got to find a way
To bring some lovin' here today

Father, Father, we don't need to escalate
You see, war is not the answer, for only love can conquer hate
You know we've got to find a way
To bring some lovin' here today

Picket lines and picket signs
Don't punish me with brutality
Talk to me so you can see
What's going on

~  Marvin Gaye

The "Motown Sound" was a mix of R&B, pop, and gospel music produced in "Motor Town," a nickname for Detroit, Michigan, in the 60s. Most often referred to as "soul music," the genre initially played it safe, preferring to appeal to all ethnic and socio-economic groups.  And then, in 1971,  Marvin Gaye's "What's Going On" was released, and to this day, it stands as "a timeless spiritual anthem."  The song was written by Al Cleveland and Renaldo Benson, inspired by a visit Benson had made to the Haight-Ashbury district of San Francisco, where he witnessed young, long-haired people being beaten and harassed by police.  He took his initial work to Marvin Gaye, who tweaked it with lyrics reflecting his own concerns about stories his brother told him upon returning from service in the Vietnam War.  As Benson stated, "We measured him for the suit, and he tailored it."

Motown founder and head Barry Gordy gave Gaye a hard time about the song, resistant to the idea that Motown could make a political statement.  "Motown was about music for all people -- white and black, blue and green, cops and the robbers.  I was reluctant to have our music alienate anyone.  This was a big risk for his (Gaye's) image."  Legend tells it that the song was released while Gordy was away on vacation, but when it immediately soared to the top of the charts, Gordy had a change of heart.

And here we are, 46 years later, still trying to find a way to bring some lovin' here today.  The parallels between the unrest of the 60s and the protests today are not hard to find.  The displays of racism, the desecration of Jewish cemeteries, the issues behind Black Lives Matter, the evidence of interference in our government by an adversarial foreign country, the fear of involvement in yet another foreign war, Bannon's determined "deconstruction of the administrative state," the threat to women's reproductive health care . . . the list goes on and on, as we repeatedly ask, "What's going on?"

If nothing else, never stop asking.

Ah, Mary

Listen while you read:  https://youtu.be/E4nHu0us4uQ

She's skilled at the art of deception and she knows it
She's got dirty money that she plays with all the time
She waters the garden, but maybe she just likes the hoses
She puts herself just a notch above humankind

Ah, Mary.  She'll make you cookies, then she'll burn your town
Ah, Mary.  Ashes, ashes, but she won't fall down
She's the beat of my heart, she's the shot of a gun
She'll be the end of me and maybe everyone

Call her a bully, she'll blow up your whole damn playground
Pour her a drink and watch it go straight to her head
She'll take you so high up and cover her eyes as you fall down
Then in the morning, don't be surprised if you're dead

Ah, Mary, Mary, Mary . . . Ca.  Oh, America.

~  Grace Potter

Grace Potter and the Nocturnals hail from Vermont, and as far as I am concerned, everything that comes out of Vermont is good.  And Grace Potter is good.  I have seen her perform, and the passion she puts into her delivery is arguably on a par with Janis Joplin.  Well, close.

"Ah, Mary" appears on the 2007 release, This Is Somewhere.  The lyrics are obviously striving for political metaphor.  If the song is new to you, did you see the end coming?  Did you know that "Mary" would end up being "America"?  I ask because the first time I heard the song, I did not see that one coming.  It isn't hard to follow the metaphor through with speculation on the "dirty money" or the bully references.  But before you take offense and reject Potter for dissing America, take note of the last two lines of the chorus:

She's the beat of my heart, she's the shot of a gun
She'll be the end of me and maybe everyone

We are all complicit.  We are cursed/blessed with a big dose of nationalism in this country, and it is always hard for us to admit when we, as a nation, may have strayed from our original purpose.  But no matter the fear, no matter the divide, no matter the differing ideologies, we all know that America is an experiment in government as it should be.  We may be messing it up here and there, playing with the hoses instead of taking care of our thirst, but we still all yearn for the same values:  life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.

Ah, Mary.