The Whole World Is Family

I love a window seat,

Whenever I fly.

But not this time,

When I came to New York.

I didn’t want to see the skyline,

And how different it would be.

I grew up here in New York,

And we are proud of our city.

But it doesn’t look the same,

Since they knocked her down.

I went to ground zero today,

It’s been four years since.

It hurt to think other human beings,

Could hate us all so much.

They called it a war,

I just don't understand,

How anyone can hate that much

But then just look 

at

Family wars

Boy Toy

He likes chick flicks

And porn movies

And making me laugh

I like to laugh

Our eyes lit up

When we met

We were brilliant

In everything we said

We laughed

And said good-bye

I should have let it go at that

But he came back

And I let him in

He likes my mind

And my popcorn

And the history channel

And making me laugh

He stayed

And I slept through the night

Safe

In his arms

We laughed

And said goodbye

I saw him

At my friends house

And he said

He would hurt me

We didn’t laugh

And said good-bye

But he came back

And I let him in

I cooked

And he loved it

And he stayed

For a week

We laughed

And said good-bye

Next time we fought

It took a long time

But he came back

And I let him in

We laughed

 And said good-bye

And he came back

And I let him in

And we laughed

And said good-bye

Then he came back

I didn’t want

To let him in

But I did

And he cooked

And told me he loves me

And we said good-bye

It took a long time

But he came back

And I let him in

And we laughed

We said good-bye

And he came back

And we said good-bye

And he came back

And we said good-bye

And he came back

I always let him in

And we would start out laughing

And loving

And we said good-bye

Dozens of times

Don’t fall in love

With a Boy Toy

Next time

I won’t open the door

Yeah, right

I don’t believe that

Do you?

Pray for me

Please?

America

     I wanted to title this America the Beautiful, but she is not so beautiful these days, either physically or politically.  Flooding and fire storms are marring her surface, forcing evacuations.  The political landscape has become a quagmire of self-interest and hate-mongering, both home and abroad.  I had become very critical of her.
     Then I read a post by a nationalized friend:  "HAPPY BIRTHDAY AMERICA!! THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU FOR EVERYTHING THAT I AM TODAY, BECAUSE OF YOU. AM HUMBLY GRATEFUL...." 
      It made me think of the time my grandfather - ill with cancer, dying - was taken in by a gang of phony meter readers.  He was robbed.  Two things bothered him tremendously; one that he was too weak to protect his wife, and the other the theft of some papers.
      My mother was exasperated with his need to replace those papers.  She said, "What does it matter, he is dying."  I would have thought as a first generation American she would understand.  I certainly did.
      The papers?   His citizenship papers!  And I am delighted to say he received the new copies before he passed on.  Let me assure you Grospapa was fully aware of America's faults, but he he also knew that it was the best place on earth to live.  And despite the recent curtailings of some of our freedoms, make no mistake, it is still the freest country.
      We may have to work harder for a while to restore the parts that are broken, but Thank you Minnie and Papa for reminding me, that America is still The Beautiful.  

An important look at bailouts and what they lead to

http://sturdyblog.wordpress.com/2011/06/18/democracy-vs-mythology-the-battle-in-syntagma-square/

This link goes to an awesome article specifically about the proposed bail-out of Greece, and the real reason the people have taken to the streets.  To paraphrase the final quote, why aren't people in the U.S., Ireland, and elsewhere also in the street?

BOB

Friends are always posting songs on Facebook, and we often get into discussions, as well as adding others.  This morning, a friend bewailed the fact that listening to Bob Seger made her too sad about the loss of her step-father.  I sent her this essay which I wrote a while back.  I hope it helps her to learn to enjoy Bob again, and remember the good things.

BOB

          Janis Joplin usually lives in my CD player, but strangely, this morning, she did not suit my mood.  As I looked through my CD collection, Elton John looked back, as did the empty case for the stolen Led Zeppelin.  The classics were vying for attention as well.  Bob Seger.  Of course.  However, which one?  The Distance?  It does contain my favorite Seger song, but still, it was not right for the moment.  Live Bullitt!  Yeah!  While I do not have all of Bob’s albums, I do have all the songs, some on CD’s, others on tapes, the rest downloaded to my computer.  I am on my fifth copy of Against The Wind.  Two copies were stolen, one the tape player ate, and the other just plain wore out.

          Most of my friends know that Bob writes all of his music for me.  He speaks to my heart.  He writes what I would have written, had I not gone down another road.  I have never been able to attend one of Bobs’ concerts.  Life has always gotten in the way – no money, no car, illness, out of town.  Once I just plain did not know he was nearby.  Perhaps it is better this way.  I can see him singing only to me.  Still, I should send him a picture, so he will know that I have blondish, not dark hair.*

          We all have some music that makes us feel.  It is second only to our sense of smell, for evoking memories.  There are songs that have been part of celebrations, break-ups, reunions and every other aspect of life - and death.  They are the witness to the everyday occurrences of our lives.  Every culture has some kind of music and even when we cannot understand the words, we can appreciate the rhythms.

          Bob has gotten me through the worst of times and enhanced the joy in the best times in my life.  The timing of his new albums has coincided with the course of my life.  Even when the lyrics might not quite fit, the sentiment did.  I remember when my grandfather was dying of cancer, the Against The Wind album was my rock.  Songs like ‘Fire Lake’ – a place I wanted to take Grosspapa back to – ‘Shining Brightly’ – what he had always told me life would be – ‘No Man’s Land’ – a symptom of the times, kept me from losing my sanity.  While I was still celebrating my youth, ‘Night Moves was on all the jukeboxes to seduce us out into the woods.  Years later, when “sweet sixteen turned thirty-one”, ‘Rock and Roll Never Forgets’ was there for me to dance to and console me.  When there is no good man in my life, ‘Come to Poppa’ springs to mind, as I get ready to call a faithful friend.  Somehow I don't ever seem to stop running 'Against the Wind'.

          Bob has surprised me too.  When my recently former fiancé, Robert Lee, committed suicide, I turned to the older albums, thinking the new album would not take me out of my grief.  In despair when they didn't, I put  the ‘Mystery’ cd in the player.  There was the solace I was seeking.  I should have trusted you, Bob.  ‘Golden Boy’.  I am positive it was written about a young man with a bright future, but whose life ended too soon.  ‘I Can’t Save You Angelene’.  While about a woman, I could not save Robert either.  ‘Sixteen Shells from 30-06’.  The seeming perplexity of the lyrics could have defined Robert Lees’ life.  I almost understood it through the pain and the music – both his life and the lyrics.  ‘West of the Moon’.  In that place is where I am sure he now resides, at peace.  Other songs on the CD were reminiscent of other people and times, although Robert was still in them too.  For the next few days, I listened and mourned.  Memories flooded me.  Mostly, I healed.

          Tonight as I was preparing to write, I turned the stereo on.  I was surprised it was tuned to radio.  NPR?  Oh, yeah, it’s still Sunday; Prairie Home Companion was on earlier.  Well, perhaps I would leave it, if they were playing some jazz or blues.  Even some rousing classical would do.  Nope, cannot handle that whiney funereal stuff, in any kind of music.  Bob was still in the CD player.  Again?  Why not.  Even his break up songs are upbeat.  I will even get to some of the other albums tonight. 

          You take some time too, tonight.  Listen to your Bob Seger.  Relive the memories.  Then tell them to someone.  Even if you have already done so.  Some of my favorite memories are of my grandmother telling me the same story for the fiftieth or hundredth time.  She is gone and I cannot hear her anymore.  Except in my mind.  Especially in the music.





I am a redhead again, been for several years...

         

           

Errant Words

My word for the day: myriad.  In the pieces i posted yesterday, i used it 3 times, twice in one essay.  There it became a bridge between two ideas.  My writings will be myriad as well as errant.  

With so many things to write about, I become almost frozen in the face of all the choices.  It's similar to the bi-polar/anxietal immobilization, but without the consequences.  If i do not write here, for 10 minutes, there is no window of opportunity that i am missing.  You may say what if that window is longer than 10 minutes?  My experience has been that the window, if i can get out of it will only last that long. And if it is longer, there are past writings - my own and that of others, should i feel the need to post *now*. 
Even now, with all the ideas and words and sentences running amok in my head, I find this blog to be truly exciting.  And i will not bemoan the time where i refused for reasons I can no longer remember.  I am simply going to write.  I can edit it all later.....  I can even delete it all entirely.  But i think i will not. 
Part of my illness has led to me destroy my art - words, art, objects - in the past.  No use crying about it, and perhaps i will one day be able to re-create some of it.  And if not…there will be a limitless supply of words to arrange, colors to apply, and objects to shape into something better.
Writers often wonder will they be published, will they be read.  And while i would never want to see books disappear, here, on the net, there is so much more opportunity to be seen.  If even one person finds me, and reads what I have said, I am a success.

I have also invented a word here today – anxietal.  Perhaps one day it will be in a dictionary.  I think it should be, so feel free to use it, as it describes what it  suggests, and we will be part of the growing of language.  Talk about exciting!

Go! Write!

TO Galway Kinnell - poem

To Galway Kinnell

He said

Language is sexual

Could that be why?

I am so good at writing.

Because I enjoy so much,

And am so good at

Love making.

Or is it perhaps,

The other way around?

He said

Worshipping the life force

And I thought:

Let me worship that

Life Force

And be

Worshipped

Let me write.

And be read.

©2006