Boomers Lament

Ole Noah led a quiet life until one day, when Creator YWHW told him to build an ark.It’s a good thing that he did. . . a lot has happened since then. After the great flood, the world was repopulated with humans, people. . . men and women. As the human race spread out across the wide world, different levels of authority were manifested. Some folks worked and grew crops; some sought precious metals. Some enterprising people put crops and metals and animal skins and whatnot together to make useful things that people could use to do whatever. . . In the historical development of these agricultural, industrial and mercantile developments, some men like to take charge of things; others were content to do just do their jobs, maybe raise a family, cultivate crops, crank out a few trinkets, tools or toys. As the humans spread out across the world, certain men emerged beyond mere leadership to military control, recruiting soldiers along the way. So we witnessed the rise of empires. Strong men, pharoahs and kings asserted their hegemony over tribes and nations. Solomon, Nebuchadnezzar, Artaxerses, Alexander, Caesar, Genghis Khan, William, Henry, Charles, George, and a host of others. In the 18th and 19th centuries, the paths to leadership shifted beyond mere military might.Men began to measure power and authority according to wealth. Especially in Britain and America, financial power and technological mastery made it possible for entrepreneurs to take charge of institutions. . . manufacturers, financiers, distributors of goods and service were taking charge of things, while government people tried to make sure the powermongers were playing by the rules. In America, Carnegie, Rockefeller, J.P. Morgan, Ford and many other resourceful entrepreneurs were calling the shots. In recent years, one of those wheeler-dealers managed to get himself elected president. Meanwhile, on the other side of the world, the old world of northern Europe, the Russians had tried to implement some Marxian theories to establish a communist nation, but . . . long story short . . . it didn’t work so well, so they took a giant step backwards and launched an effort to work toward a quasi-capitalist system. But that wasn’t working out so well either. . .so one wise guy who had figured out how to manipulate the Russians and their institutions took charge of the failed soviet state and morphed it into a good ole boys club, run by any oligarchs who were willing to work with the new czar. Who is he? you may ask. . putin in feign; ask me again and I’ll tell you the same. As for protest, Navalny nailed it, but they got rid of him.

Such is the fate of some dissidents, who are not as fortunate as our greatest Americans. . . back in 1776-81. But I digress (after attending Hamilton last night.) Bottom line: nowadays we have a trilateral rendition trying to run the world. We’ve got a magamaniac capitalist in the west, an excommunist bureacrat and a Chinese wise guy calling all the shots. Today I heard that Vlad the Mad invaded Romania. . . sorta like when trump sent the oath bleepers and those other gangs to try and steal the election in 2021. And that’s the way it is, May 29, 2026

(Where’s Walter Cronkite when you need him?) Glass half-Full

Paris 1937

A scene from my novel, Smoke: in Paris, 1937.

Like a violin string stretched across the bridge of time, rendering some rare vibrato of tenderness that struck now upon their resonant souls, a note of empathetic enquiry sounded forth. Sandi Leblanc, sitting across the table, a woman whose attentions were continually attuned to affairs of the heart and issues of the spirit, asked carefully, slowly, “What is it, Madame, that you and your family must find—what is it that would require crossing the ocean, going all the way to America—to find? Surely you will not have to travel so far for peace of mind?” Helene wiped the tears from her cheek. “What we seek, Madame Leblanc, is a young man, a good man in the very flower of his youth; but he is locked inside Dachau prison—our son, Heinrich. And now it is so very hard to decide what is to be done. Should we stay or go?” “Even if you must go. . .somewhere. . .must it be to America? Why not wait here, here in Alsace. You are close here, close enough to respond quickly, if Heinrich were to be released. If you were all the way to the United States, your help for him would be almost impossible.” “Our travel visas here are good only for two weeks. But we have relations in New York—they are our people, Jews like us—who are working on our behalf. They are even willing to deposit thousands of US dollars in the banks for us, and send affidavits to endorse for our immigration, so that we can obtain visas to enter the United States and start a new life there.” https://www.amazon.com/Smoke-L-Carey-Rowland/dp/1495330834

To Do or not to Do

To do or not to do; that is the question: Whether ’t’was nobler in the colonial leaders’ minds to suffer the slings and arrows of King George’s abuses, or to take arms against his tea tax and his stamp act, and his aggressive attacks, and by opposing, end them? To give up, to fuhgedabowdit, aye, there was the rub, for in that slumber of appeasement. . . what dreams of liberty and justice for all. . . might might have been done away with and forgotten?

Oh, what regrets about what might have been. . . if our founders had shuffled off their Revolutionary coil? What regrets would have come, if, by submitting, they had not endured the thousand oppressive shocks that Liberty and Justice for demands of us?

This conundrum did give them pause, and yet, I still wonder. . .where would we be today if they had not borne the whips and scorns of outrageous fortune, to overcome a king who was tyrannical and covetous?

Even so, y’all, nowadays. . . We the People have been tolerating the slings and arrows of outrageous magamania; And yet. . . and yet. . . We the People will bear the abuses of the foxes who steal the vines of Liberty, We will strive to prevent the proud boys and the oath bleepers and the the 3 percent who are oligarchs from tipping the circuits of Ai against us all,. We will duly note the abuses until we, by Rule of Law found in our Constitution, in our Congress and in our courts and in our ballot boxes. . . do overcome the slings and arrows of outrageous magamania and gerrymandering! Glass half-Full

Creative Evolution

I have thinking about this world ever since I popped out of my mother’s womb in 1951.I was born and raised as a child, guided along by my Catholic mother and my hard-working father, a lapsed Baptist. Mama sent me to a Catholic school. It was good; I did well, serving as student council president before graduating in 1969. In 1970, I went to the other end of Baton Rouge, moved into a dorm room in north stadium at LSU. In the introductory philosophy class, Dr. Henderson lectured about Rene Descartes famous statement, “I think, therefore I am”. (I mentioned that lecture in chapter 9 of my novel, King of Soul.) A year or two later, the Moody Blues followed up on that principle with an extension: “Of course you are, my practical star!” Anyway no matter what you can, or cannot, figure out. . .Life is good!

Today, May 24, 2026, Memorial Day Sunday, I was reading the Bible. We read in Genesis that Cain killed his brother Abel, and so the Lord punished him. Cain wandered out into the wild parts of the earth, but he got scared. He cried out to the Creator with the fearful complaint that whoever would find him would kill him. The Creator, YWHW, revealing his merciful nature, put a mark on Cain that made it clear to other earth inhabitants that they should not mess with Cain. “Then Cain went out from the presence of the Lord, and settled in the Land of Nod, east of Eden. Cain had relations with his wife, and she conceived, and gave birth to Enoch. After that, several more generations brought forth another character named Enoch, who has lately been the subject of much attention, because he wrote a book. I can relate. Having written and published four books myself. But as I was saying, ruminating on digression. . . several thousands of years rolled by. . . Along comes a smart fellow, Charles Darwin. Watching animals on Galapagos, his scientific mind noticed patterns in the animal kingdom; and so he presented his theory of natural selection, better known as the theory of evolution. Ever since Darwin, our human race has witnessed a whirlwind of theories, discussions, controversies about the origin of the human race. But here’s the good news! I’m here to tell ya that it’s all good. I’ve got this question figured out. There’s no argument between the religion folk and the scientific folk. There is really no controversy between Genesis and Darwin’s evolution. Adam and Eve, Cain and Abel. . . they were a special project that Creator YWHW set up in the garden of Eden. But because Adam and Eve had free will , they blew it. Meanwhile, back at the evolutionary ranch, east of Eden, there was another divine project going. on. The truth includes both/and:Creation and Evolution.! Cain was a son of God, created in YWHW’s special Eden project. But when he was banished from Eden, he entered into the natural world, the animal kingdom in which natural selection and genetic genesis was the determinant. The genetic code was, you might say, the new sheriff in town, but the Lord, who wrote the code, was still Lord of all heaven and earth. So. . . Meanwhile, back at the evolutionary ranch, east of Eden, there was another divine project going. on, with a different set of rules. In Genesis, chapter 6, we find this: “Now it came about, when men began to multiply on the face of the land, and daughters were born to them, that the sons of God saw that the daughters of men were beautiful; and they took wives for themselves. . . Cain was a son of God, created in YWHW’s special Eden project. And even though he screwed up the Lord’s special project, the Lord set him free in this world anyway. As for history, and the descent of man through it. . , the truth is plain to see. The Lord of Creation had two projects going. One was the Eden project, which didn’t work out. The other was the animal kingdom, with homo erectus at the forefront, manifesting a special status as “crown of creation.” . . . or the crown of evolution. . . whichever perspective floats your analytical boat. . . It’s both/and, y’all! So where did Cain find his wife? In the land of Nod, where evolutionary natural selection was the divine order of the day, the order of the earth evolutionary age. The special project in Eden had not worked out according to plan, because YWYH God took a chance on free will. But a few thousand years later, the Lord’s second special project did work out well. That was project in which Creator YWHW sent his only son, Jesus Christ, into this world, to teach us how to live. . . (see Sermon on the Mount, Matthew chapter 5&ff). . . and to demonstrate that human life, properly lived, in spite of our fallen condition, can be corrected with a Christian attitude and Faith. Thereby, eternal life does indeed transcend death! It’s all good, y’all. You just gotta believe: Faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen. And if you believe that, I’ve got some real estate in heaven I’ll share with you. Maybe when we get there, we’ll meet Cain and Abel, and all the other folks, Adam and Eve, Moses, Peter, Paul and Mary, your mother, your father, sisters and brothers, your ancestors, your children, grandchildren and your old friends. . . all the good folk who ever lived. . . maybe even Charles Darwin if he got his evolutionary ducks in a row without it damaging his Faith. My friend Ben just made his journey there about four months ago. I look forward to seeing him again. King of Soul

Dronesy Starrish Night

Dronesy, dronesy lights They glow in glorious starrish light Streaking in their glorious dronesy might With programmed flight in spring’s first celebration night. The crowd is seated in the field below seated in their readiness down low as kids and cameras await the dronesy show it’s not like any show that ole folks know Now I understand what Vincent tried to show because he never saw these drones that glow Dronesy, starrish streaks; yes, we’re amazed Flaming thrusts that brightly blaze Swirling drones to brighten stadium haze Reflecting glorious technologic glow Putting on their perfect programmed show Now I understand, what this world is coming to what Vincent did foresee before this old world morphed to new For there’s. no way he could have known the starry show that droning glory’s honed

the buzzing glory of droning bees flashed up in their technologic ease You imagined it all as artists often do long before these drones came into view.

Yours truly, poems of Rowland

A Circle Unbroken

I’ll never forget, back in the day, when I was a student at LSU, a couple of friends, good ole boys from Slidell, Bruce and Bob, who turned me on to that historic record album, “Will the Circle Be Unbroken?” a collection of music and songs from our American heritage, performed and sung by the nitty gritty dirt band.

Their musical mission seemed to be to bring some classic American folk music back into the consciousness of our “turned on-tripped out” generation. The Nitty Gritty Dirt band guys were accompanied by some old-timers, including Mother Maybelle Carter and Doc Watson. The most vivid audible memory of that album was the voice of Doc Watson, a blind master of guitar flat-pickin, accompanied by his son, Merle. Little did I know at that time that the providential leading of an Almighty Lord would establish my life’s most productive and most satisfying years in a mountainside homestead in the same county where Doc Watson had lived, Watauga County, North Carolina. The county seat is Boone, where on the corner of King and Depot streets, you’ll see this parkbench with a bronze sculpture of Doc, accompanied, for a brief moment in time, by yours truly.

David Holt, an historian of American folk music, later conducted interviews, with video, of Doc in his home, near Deep Gap, where he and Rosalee had raised Merle. In those 1977 interviews, Doc would talk about their life in the Blue Ridge, their homestead and heritage. He would often mention his wife Rosalee. Maybe you could say. . . the circle was not unbroken between my appreciation of Doc’s legacy and the fulfillment of my own destiny. Back in my day, before i had moved to Boone, the Lord had enabled me to record two record albums. Something for Everyone Songs of Rowland was recorded in Nashville, in 1977, thanks to Tom Behrens. Later, in 1978, I recorded a Christian testimonial album, Revelation 5:9, in Asheville. Thanks to Eddie Swann and friends. I greatly appreciate the ensemble of musicians who helped me record those songs, old and new, on Revelation 5:9. One of those friends was David Holt, who happened to be living across Garren Creek Road from me at that time. I greatly appreciate his old-style frailing banjo in that session, with a little help from me friends, an ensemble of local musicians, including Dan Lewis on harmonica, on that old hymn from Appalachian history, Life’s Railway to Heaven. Life's Railway to Heaven Years after that recording, after Pat and I had moved to Boone, I was singing some of those songs at the Watauga County fairgrounds, North Carolina state fair. Doc’s widow, Rosalee, was listening, seated in the audience. After my set, she spoke to me kindly, commending me on my songs. As I said earlier, I’ll never forget the sound of voice when I first heard him in 1972. And I’ll never forget Rosalee’s appreciation of my song, later. As Bob Hope and Bing Crosby used to sing, long before I was born: “Thanks for the memories.” That will be my greeting to Doc, Rosalee and Merle, when I meet them in that heavenly circle in which will never be forever unbroken! King of Soul

Cleaning the Mess

an excerpt from chapter 19 of Glass half-Full

Marcus opened a can of turpentine. He tipped it slightly so that its upper contents would spill onto a rag that lay on the parking lot next to his car. With the rag partially soaked, he began rubbing on the driver’s-side door. Someone had painted a black swastika on it while he was working late. His cell phone rang. He opened it, looked at the mini-screen, saw “Grille,” which stoodfor Jesse James Gang Grille. In the last few days, however, whenever hewould see “Grille” displayed as the caller ID, it registered in his mind as “Girl,” meaning Bridget, because she would often call from there. “Hi.” “Marcus, have you heard about the explosion?” “No, where?” “At the Belmont Hotel, about 20 minutes ago. That’s where the FEF convention is. “Aleph told me he would be going there tonight. Has anybody been down there to see what’s happening?” “Kaneesha left here right after we heard it, but she hasn’t returned. I don’t think anybody’s getting in there for awhile. The police have got the whole block barricaded.” “I want to find out if anything has happened to Aleph. Don’t you think he would have left there by now?” “The TV News says the police aren’t letting anyone in or out except rescue workers.” “I’m headed over there in a few minutes, as soon as I get the car-door cleaned up. Someone painted a swastika on it.” Glass half-Full