And what would you do if you weren’t doing this?
Tryin’ to make rent with a dead end job
In youth we learn; in age we understand.
Do cities and dreams go together? Or do wide open spaces allow dreams to flourish? What is the difference between a night-dream and a goal-dream? Both live in the same space. Both fill our minds and swell our hearts. Why do we forget the one and follow the other?
Why do we tell some people “follow your dreams” and then say to others “give it up, that's a pipe dream”? Why is a “dream” more inspirational than an “idea”? Is it better to “dream it up” or “flesh it out”? Is our current place in space a “dream come true” or “the end of a dream”?
And where does passion fit in? When the passion of youth fades, does it end or change a dream? Can passion carry us on when dreams die? Does a passionate dream bear more fruit than a fruitful idea?
I don’t know if it’s shallow depthness or deep shallowness that preoccupies my brain. It’s like clothes shopping in the Husky Boys section instead of the Petite Man section. Pretty much the same size, just a different department and label. Why does that make me feel so much better?
As a father of two daughters and a son with a daughter and son, I understand the passage of time. The Son was born in the 80s. The Oldest Daughter in the 90s. The Youngest in the 00s. I produced my Moms oldest and youngest grandchildren. I spawned offspring in three decades. My granddaughter was born in the same decade as my youngest daughter. I’m old.
I spend time and effort highlighting the accomplishments of women from the past that make a difference for the lives of women today. The quote starting this post is from a Czeck writer who lived 1848-1916.
Marie von Ebner-Eschenbach was born in a castle to a Baron and Baroness. She was never formally schooled, but “is regarded as one of the most important German-language writers of the latter portion of the 19th century.” Embarrassing her family as a failed playwright, she turned to narrative-form. And was an overnight success.
I hate that term. Overnight Success. The only millionaires that are overnight successes are lotto winners. All the others had to work hard and fail their asses off for it. Baroness von Ebner-Eschenbach wasn’t in it for the money. After she died, her will instructed that all of her compensation from writing be given as aid to other writers.
The title of this missive is the name of a current popular song by Luke Combs. My first impression of Luke Combs was that he was of the Hick-Hop-Bro-Country wing of the two kinds of music my father believed in: Country AND Western. I never really listened to him. Combs either.
I changed my mind about Luke. That song is first on the playlist accompanying this post. I’ve included a couple of his songs, which I don’t usually do. Does To Me is a total small-town song that wrestles with the questions I ask in the opening paragraphs.
The Holy Grail of Messaging that the party in power finds so menacingly elusive is plain in the refrain, if only they knew how to shut up and listen. . .
So say I'm a middle of the road Not much to show Underachieving, average Joe But I'm a hell of a lover A damn good brother And I wear this heart on my sleeve And that might not mean much to you But it does to me
Part of that grappling with dreams and passions includes the two old photographs I discovered from my childhood. Veteran readers know that I attended a different school each year from 4th grade on. Newbies now do.
Finding old photos of a normal childhood is comforting. I remember those activities in a general sense, but not as a fond recollection of familiar faces of life-long friends.
Weird how pictures like this are usually found in a scrapbook, along an orderly and continuous timeline of one’s childhood. I suppose it’s all but fitting that mine were rando-discoveries in the fog of moving. Not much surprises me about my life anymore.
Posting it to FB lit the flame-name on the candle of forgotten-faces. Which is good, as my 40th high school reunion is approaching in September. I knew them in elementary school and then didn’t know them again until hi school. And now we meet yet again. Seasons change indeed.
What do you WANT to be? Because that’s what you ARE.
It’s about perspective. Because it means nothing to you is fine. Because it means something to ME. Not in a fake-self-validation-way that crushes the soul across from me. It’s a just-let-me-have-my-own-glory-my-own-way-kind-of-thing.
Another song I added was one from The Moody Blues. Probably their most famous, Nights in White Satin. I’ve listened to this song forever it seems.
Uncle Leo had an impressive vinyl collection in the 1960s, and the grandparents had the 10-foot-long state-of-the-art-console-stereo. Check out this company selling restored Bluetooth-equipped ones.
Stacking a ton of records on the player and listening for hours through headphones connected by that thick curly cord, I laid on my back on the wall-to-wall carpeting in a house Grandpa Smitty built. Grandma Ces would lovingly and kindly remind me (over and over) to remove my feet from the furniture as I got lost in the music and lyrics and liner notes.
The lyrics from White Satin have stuck with me ever since I heard them
Gazing at people Some hand in hand Just what I'm going through They can't understand Some try to tell me Thoughts they cannot defend Just what you want to be You will be in the end
The Peppers and Combs and 2Pac and the Blues sing about the same thing. Dreams. And one’s place in them. And how the reality of dreams impacts the life we lead. Humans don’t try. Humans do. Trying is excusing. It’s like meaning to. You did one thing. BUT. You meant to do another. Hmmm . . .
So this playlist scatters the feelings of living in a city after living in the country. It drags the dreams of night into the light of day. Do words in a song mean more to the artist or the listener? Do we invent the emotions that massage the ego? Songs help reveal that answer. Of course we do.
What’s the difference between Poor White Trash and Rich White Trash?
Let me show you by telling you in a song. Can racism exist between white people? Like if I’m Peachy White and you’re Leathery Tan, who’s more Whiter? Well, I am, I guess. Damn pastiness. Does that infer more rights or privileges to me? At the expense of that tanned person? Is Pasty Eggshell a skin color?
This 3-song-mini-playlist should clear it right up. Race is top of mind and should be. Instead of the lame put-off constantly shoved down our throats “We need to start the tough conversations about race, blah, blah, blah . . .” this is an actual conversation we are now having.
People hate on people. For all kinds of reasons. Cain and Abel? White people. Black people. Brown people. Yellow people. Red people. Café Au Latte, two lumps and good day!
All people. Human Nature isn’t restricted by skin color. Kinda like Covid. Spiritual and moral infections can be as lethal as biological pathogens. And just as easily weaponized.
Harper Valley PTA topped the country and pop charts in 1968 and sold over 6 million copies. Written by legendary songcrafter Tom T. Hall, it became singer Jeannie C. Riley's One-Hit-Wonder. Small-town hypocrisy meets empowered woman taking no shit! I love this song!
Johnny Paycheck was gangsta before anyone came outta Compton, writing songs like (It Won't Be Long) And I'll Be Hating You and (Pardon Me) I've Got Someone to Kill. The last one was covered by jazz heavyweight Diamanda Galas. His standard-bearer is Take This Job and Shove It, but Outlaw’s Prayer exposes the sanctimonious religious bullshit that causes declines in church attendance.
Mama Tried has the line every mother shudders to contemplate about her son "I turned 21 in prison doin' life without parole.” Merle Haggard is a Cowboy Rock Star. I grew up with him and his music. He invented the Bakersfield Sound along with Buck Owens. Dwight Yoakum is a disciple. Both Merle and Johnny served time in prison.
I don’t think what I’ve described can be called racism. Classism for sure. But even classicism seems a foreign concept. Like British. Yeah, it’s elitism and all that rot. But it is something deeper and more dogmatically insidious.
At the core of all of this, by whatever name, is the other-izing of others, and the defense of that which is mine - my wife, my kids, my food, my abode, my tribe, my identity. The crux is a power struggle. One tribe of this-looking folks against the other tribe of that-looking folks.
It was simpler in the beginning. The other tribe that wanted to kill you and take your stuff didn’t look like you or your tribe. Different equals bad. This is pretty basic shit here, but we really seemed to have fixed it til we broke it.
Nowadays, the other could be the same skin color as another other. Huh? I know, I’m confused too. Like when Blacks of one tribe call Blacks in the other tribe names. Like Elie Mystal did here
Herschel Walker, the football star turned Georgia Senate candidate, is an animated caricature of a Black person drawn by white conservatives. Walker is what they think of us, and they think we’re big, ignorant, and easily manipulated. They think we’re shady or criminal. They think we’re tools to be used. The Walker campaign exists as a political minstrel show: a splashy rendition of what white Republicans think Black people look and sound like.
Pulled from the article titled The Herschel Walker Senate Campaign Is an Insult to Black People, it is more than a little weird thinking about his criticisms. They are all based on the color of skin. Hershel’s and his voters. And of course, white people voting for THIS black dude is further proof of outright racism.
I am not sure about you, but I lived in a house with an athlete. Said athlete woke up early. Crawled into bed late. Bloody, bruised and battered from on-field competition. Went to school. Went to practice. Often twice a day. Practiced every spare minute. Sacrificed social life. Ignored holidays. Missed birthdays. Entertained the masses. Engaged in mandatory community improvement activities. Volunteered to work in snack bar if not playing. Mentored younger players. Adhered to a dress code. Maintained a 2.0 GPA. Never quit. Successfully graduated. Productive Citizen.
What’s wrong with a person like that? Dedicated? Driven? Dreamer?
Weren’t we just scolded during the historic nomination of the first Black woman to the high court that it was racist to criticize a Black person? Her backstory sounds a lot like Hershel’s. Too bad racism doesn’t care about color any more.
The point of his thesis is that when or if Walker wins, it’s because Evil White People tricked Dumb Black People into voting for their Whitewashed-Black guy. I’ll save you the time. Here’s his conclusion
It’s infuriating because the entire raison d’être of the Walker Senate campaign is the belief that Black people are easily manipulable children who will vote for other Black people like clapping seals, eager to perform tricks for the promise of treats. Anything other than abject and overwhelming rejection of Walker by all Black voters will be spun to fit that racist narrative, notwithstanding all of the other factors in play. If the Democratic Party blows Georgia, people will blame it on Black people voting for a fool instead of Republicans suppressing or outright discarding the votes of most Black people in Georgia.
Herschel Walker’s candidacy is a white insult to Black people. It doesn’t bother me that Walker is a clown show—it bothers me that white conservatives think Black voters are entertained. (Emphasis mine)
So, on the one hand, if Blacks vote Democrat, then they are smart having seen through the evil white bullshit. Even if the Blacks vote for a white Dem instead of a black Repub, it’s better because that white guy is a Black ally.
But, on the other hand, if Blacks vote for the Black guy they like best out of two Blacks guys, if it’s the Black Repub guy, then they were manipulated. But if they vote for the Black Dem, then they saw through the bullshit.
Yeah, I’m sure that’s how Black people think about voting. Not a damn thing about inflation, crime, schools and parents, the border, the war, price of gas and food, the economy. I mean like shit real normal people give a real damn about.
Did you catch his caveat? “notwithstanding all of the other factors in play.” After all of his ranting about how Black people can be manipulated by evil whites, that line is the real conclusion. What other factors? The ones Walker talks about and all people care about?
C’mon Man! Live your own life and define it the way you choose
Ric
I'd still be the same guy they knew back in the day Who was burnin' CDs just to give away Payin' his dues if I wasn't doin' this Five deep in a van, head full of steam Hot on the heels of my neon dreams maybe comin' true Livin' this life just like I was born to do
I'm going to go out on a limb and say that "To Live & Die in LA" might just be 2Pac's most underrated track.
In the mid-90s, the regional airline I worked for offered us all the chance to get our dispatcher license at no cost. The only catch was that we'd have to move to Farmington, where HQ was (then) located. Only 1 of us took them up on the offer.
I sometimes wonder what life would've been like if I'd taken them up on their offer. Sliding doors, and all that...
Offer people no-guarantee estimates of the value of their homes if they are considering selling. I'd have paid $50 to a freelancer to do that for me.