Roots Music

Music back in the 1960’s was a curious choice for us teenagers. We had the radio. . . the Motown sound with Otis Redding, The Four Tops. . . we had the radio buzz with Elvis, then the Beatles and all that followed. . . but I was a folky, learning how to play guitar. My friend Johnny showed me a record album that his brother in the Navy had brought from Europe or somewhere. It was a record by Joan Boaz, with her singing old ballads from times long gone. . . Mary Hamilton, Jackaroe, Henry Martin. The liner notes on the back cover were written by a fellow named Bob Dylan. He had written something about when he first heard Joan’s voice and. . . sitting by railroad tracks. . . In 1969, I finished high school and moved to the south side of Baton Rouge to attend LSU. The folk music genre was expanding widely into protest anthems, including songs like Crosby Stills Nash and Young had sung. . . “four dead in Ohio”. Somewhere in all that 1960’s-’70’s confabulation, Doc was brought into the public domain. Doc and Dylan were singing together at the Newport folk festival.

In the midst of all that counterculture passion and intensity, along came a flash from the past: Will the Circle Be Unbroken, a retro-type album by the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band. My memory of that album always goes back to hearing the voice of a good ole boy from Deep Gap, North Carolina. . . Doc Watson. Doc was an ole feller with a God-given gift for singin’ and pickin’ the guitar. . . a true folk singer who had had no dreams of fame and fortune when he did sing and flat-pick his acoustic until the cows came, or. . , the rest the listening world heard that deep gap sound comin’ out of them thar hills of the Blue Ridge. As Providence would have it. . . for I had never planned what later happened. . . Pat and I moved to Boone, North Carolina, just a stone’s throw from Deep Gap, where Doc, Merle and Rosalee had lived all their lives. We still live there. . . three grown young’uns later. . . about ten miles from Doc’s old homestead in Deep Gap. Around these parts, Doc is a legend. He used to play in downtown Boone and now there’s a bronze statue of Doc “sittin’ on top of the world”, (as the ole bluegrass tells the tune). As you can see, I took the liberty of visiting Doc on the bench.

Doc was the incarnation of authentic, old time, folk music, the born again entrance of authentic, old time, old school FOLK music. . . the real thing! to accompany the new wave of Baez and Dylan and Peter Paul and Mary the Kingston Trio . . . When I was in living in Asheville in the ’70’s, I met David Holt, a scholarly music historian who also had a great talent for playing the banjo, what the mountain folk call a banjer. David plucked his banjo, the old frailing style, on the Life’s Railway to Heaven track of my Revelation 5:9 album in 1979. Somewhere in time, David visited Doc in Deep Gap and interviewed him. Also somewhere in time. . . must have been in the ‘80’s, I was singing a few songs with my guitar, at the Watauga County fair, when Doc’s wife, Rosalee was listening. At the end of my set, she expressed appreciation for my songs. That was a golden memory, coming from Doc Watson’s wife! Still yet later. . .while attending a meeting of the High Country Writers, I met Patricia Payne, who had fancied Merle, back in the day. But her romantic hopes for Merle had never never been fulfilled. I had talked with her, listened to her story, which she had wanted to publish, but that never happened. She passed away. Soon thereafter, I was summoned to a lawyer’s office in Boone, only to discover that she had bequeathed this desk/ bookshelf to me.

And that’s as close as I ever got to the legend of Doc Watson. We do, however, pass the tiny borough of Deep Gap whenever we drive eastward out of Boone. I always gaze out the car window, trying to catch a glimpse of Doc’s place, the house that Patty Payne had showed me before she passed, the homestead where Doc and Merle used to pick their guitars in the Blue Ridge air, the place where authentic folk music had roots deep in Appalachian soil. That’s my Roots Music story and I’m a’stickin’ to it. King of Soul

Prufrock's Song Reborn

(This post for nerds and eggheads only) Let us go, then, now and then, when online is spread out against the real world, like an image spread against the real world; Let us go, through certain half-forgotten shows; as images glow and bestow their memes. . . what dreams may come and go; we know not what images to stow. In the world-net people come and go, striving to remember Michelangelo, when history was like a painted show, as Mona’s smile What are the memes that grow? what ideas do flow out of this electronic stream? What screen-potato fate has come of us? Why do people drum up such fuss? The clickish fog that rubs its back upon our brightened screens licks its tongue into the corners of our dreams, and lingers upon the pools that stand inside our brains. And indeed there will be time, for the brightened bloat that shines upon our screens, rubbing its back upon the window panes of memory. And indeed there will be time, for the shallowy signal that slides along our stream; there will be time; there will be time to prepare a face to greet the faces that you meet. There will be time to ponder and create and time for all the works and days of Man, that click and drop a meme on your plate; just don’t fall into hate! Time for us and you and me. . . time for a hundred decisions, for a hundred visions and revisions, before the reaper takes you and me. . . and time for yet a hundred indecisions, and a hundred visions and revisions, and yet to come a few decisions. In the internet the people come and go, trying to recall Michelangelo. . .

when labor left a scene behind, to evaluate signs of our times. . . while still we do get old; we shall store our papers rolled . . . and bound upon a shelf, upon an altar of remembrance, when ink-pins scrolled and presses rolled. . . to evaluate the chronicles of time: that is the question; whether ’tis nobler to tolerate the crimes of our times, or by opposing end them! . . . Give me Liberty of give me death! When in the course of human events it becomes necessary to break the sacred bonds that have bound us together, and to take action against a string of abuses and end them: that is the question! We have lingered in the chambers of the web, past symbols cast in red or blue, till Eternal voices wake us and suddenly we end. . . in flames of regret. . . and yet. . . and yet it’s never too late. . . to grasp the the links of Calvary’s gate, and linger there in deep repose, until we see the brightness of eternal glory. . . far from grief, far from this fallen earthly story. Yet still the people come and go, trying to grok what Michelangelo was doing up there on the ceiling. The arts may come; the memes may grow trying to interpret Michelangelo.

King of Soul

Madness

Did madness descend on King George III when the Americans refused to follow his royal madness? Did Mr. Hyde overtake Dr. Jekyll? Did Nixon’s paranoia prompt him to tape his office conversations, to send his “plumbers” to steal documents from a psychiatrist’s office? Did his “dirty tricks” clean up the mess that he had made of his presidency? Uh. . . We the People are having deja vu here. Is a whacko tyrant running the show? Did trump suggest renaming New Mexico as New America. . . renaming Lake Ontario as lake America. . .renaming the Gulf of Mexico the gulf of America? Did trump grab classified documents and hide them in a bathroom in MarLago? Did trump send a mob of delinquent to the US Capitol to steal the election from the American people? Does he know that the rebels lost the civil war? Didn’t he get the memo that those proud boys were fighting a war that had been lost in 1865?

Does trump think we need to conquer the people of Greenland and Denmark? Didn’t he get the memo? Hans Christian Andersen, a Dane,exposed the the emperor’s nakedness?

Is donald covered by our Constitution that limits his powers, assigns war powers to Congress. . . Is trump an American? Has he read our Constitution? Has he pledged allegiance to our flag? Does he believe we are One Nation, under God, with Liberty and Justice for All? Has he ever read the inscription on our Statue of Liberty, that it reads: “Send me your huddled masses yearning to be free?” Does he know that our Constitution does not say, send me fat cats so that i may fund the american devolution, controlled by the fat cats and the mad dogs and the proud boys and the three percenters and the oath bleepers? Speaking of oaths, does he even remember that he swore an oath to defend the Constitution of the United States? Does he want to divert American attention to blowing up Iran, then losing the war that he started without any congressional approve. Is donald trump covered by our Rule of Law? He’s a rogue president, and we are seeing his naked lawlessness. He doesn’t even see that the American people are rising up to reject him. Just like we kicked King George III and his oath bleepers and proud boys out of American in 1778, We the People are rising up to expose the emperor-wannabee who has no Constitutional clothes to cover his naked lawlessness. We the People will rise up; we will eject donald from the oval office. We will assure Americans and all the citizens of this world that the joker from maralago we no longer have the oval, and no longer have the nuclear codes! Glass half-Full

Spies

By the time the 20th century rolled around, the wheels of progress were starting to spin out of control in some places. Mechanized warfare made it possible for military campaigns to impose wide damage on people and places on a level unprecedented in history. World War I was raging between the royal houses of Europe when a horde of Marxist Bolsheviks deposed the Russian tsar and imposed a communist regime on a vast empire that stretched from the Baltic sea to the Bering sea. The Russian revolution was an unexpected problem for western capitalist nations to deal with; it happened when powers that be in Europe were not expecting it. British leaders were worried that communist troublemakers would launch a revolution in Britain. They already had their security agencies and military operating at full capacity while trying to stop Kaiser Wilhelm’s mad grab for more European power. The Brits intercepted a letter that had been sent to communists in Britain from a Russian communist, Gregor Zinoviev. That was the beginning of 20th-century communist paranoia in the minds of western European leaders. The Brits extended their espionage northward, beyond the double devilry of Prussian warmongering. When the dust settled after two world wars, imposing the surrender of both Kaiser Wilhelm’s legions and hitler’s third reich holocaustic clusterfuck. . . the British MI6 espionage agency was operating on all cylinders. Allied with the American Central Intelligence Agency, the free nations of the western world could redirect their spying toward the new threat, the international communist conspiracy.That’s when the heat of 20th-century warfare cooled; the hot war became the Cold War. A British intelligence officer, Ian Fleming, began writing his series of spy novels, featuring the escapades of a British spy, James Bond. Casino Royale was published in 1952, the year after this writer was born.

I started reading the James Bond novels in 1964, when I was in eighth grade. The ones I remember were: Casino Royale, Moonraker, From Russia With Love, Dr. No, Goldfinger, Thunderball. My English teacher, a Catholic nun, caught me reading a Bond paperback during class. She confiscated it. After the class she lectured me, explaining that it was a bad influence on my young mind. She must have known something about Bond’s reputation as a womanizer, which was not, of course, a practice that could be advocated by a Catholic nun. Even so, it seemed that the James Bond popularity in books and movies had ignited a blaze of fascination with espionage, when the Russians built the Berlin wall, tried to place missiles in Cuba. Over in Asia, the VietCong were thought to be taking control of South Vietnam. . . It was a time of paranoia, which later was lampooned by baby boomers who had not lived through the age of Stalin, Hitler and Hirohito. The James Bond craze ignited a blaze of other spy adventures on TV. . . The Man from UNCLE (fictional United Network of Command Law Enforcement). . . with Russian spies v the good guys, John Le Carre. . . The Spy Who Came in from the Cold. Mad magazine published a comic strip, Spy vs. Spy, created by a Cuban expatriate.

Nowadays, I’m clueless about who is spying on whom. Putin and trump have, it seems, pasted together some kind of alliance, with golden showers of online obfuscation diluting the urgency of whatever is going on in the world of drones and moans of online reels and no-telling what’s going on in the world. Have the spies taken over? What’s in hunter’s backpack? What’s in putin’s mind? What’s in donald’s ballroom? Maybe the Russians aren’t the bad guys any more? What’s in the Democrats’ backpack? As David Crosby once said: It increases my paranoia. Not to worry, though. The only one spying on me now is Ai. But what can Ai do to me? Unplug me? Not to worry, I’m trooping with the One who already conquered the greatest enemy of all, death. Glass half-Full

Bohemians

When a vast continental empire nailed a Jewish prophet to a cross, the whole world changed forever. Messiah nullified the finality of human death when he rose up from the grave. The good news of his resurrection inspired a new, revolutionary interpretation of the ancient Hebrew scriptures. World history took another major turn, three centuries later, when a Roman emperor accepted Christian faith. Christian religion and practice took another major turn when a corrupt pope claimed church authority over secular and civil institutions. Human depravity expanded into the religious establishment when the Roman clergy throughout Europe was redirected toward earthly motivations of wealth and privilege. The age-old corruption of human institutions, kingdoms, fiefs, duchies, dukes and earls, kings and queen. Not all of them were corrupt, but rather, inclined to decisions that affected the distribution of wealth, power, and influence. One corruptive practice was the issuance of indulgences by priests who ostensibly had the power to forgive sins and shorten the terrible punishments in hell that poor sinners (everybody) would presumably have to endure after death. Institutional corruption degenerated. Corruption was rampant and nobody was really paying attention. T’was then when a new testament prophet arose. Following the example of the old testament prophets, Jan Hus stood up in the the public square and spoke correctively, prophetically against the religious establishment of the 14th century. In the city of Prague, in the region Bohemia, where the Czech Republic is today, Jan Hus delivered the corrective word of the Lord. But later paid the ultimate price for his bold prophetic act. The powers that be burned him at the stake.

In later years, a German cleric, Martin Luther, took up the mantle of prophetic correction when he acted boldly against the deceptive Establishment. Luther nailed his 95 theses to a church door. . . and the Protestant declaration began. The Christian “Church” would never be the same again. It would be replaced, appropriately,by the Christian faith that spread like Holy Spirit wildfire across the European continent and, indeed, the whole world. Since a Bohemian prophet had been the original rebel against erroneous institutional authority, the word “Bohemian” was later applied to rebels of just about any identity, in any institution on the face of the earth. This writer can remember a time when our boomer generation, questioning authority, were thought to be rebellious. Some of us demonstrated alternative lifestyles, following the new rhythms of popular culture instead of the obedient paths laid out for us by our predecessors. The term “wild bohemian” was applied to rebels. . . Kerouac, the beatniks, Maynard G. Krebbs. . . later the hippies and all kinds of rebels against the Establishment. Reformers and rebels were identified, presumptively, as “wild bohemians” because their life journeys were conducted along alternative paths that did not Establishment values and lifestyles. It all goes back to the original rebel, Jan Hus, the original Bohemian upstart rebel who rattled the chains of a religious Establishment twelve hundred years ago.

In ages long ago, reformation of the religious Establishment was thought to be disruptive and troublesome. In the modern world, we discover that it is actually helpful to find a few rebellious “bohemians” who initiate the societal changes that may or may not be needed to keep everybody well-fed and content. Most important in our democratic-republican nation: Let folks live their own lives, as long as they do not break the historic ten commandments and upset the apple carts of their neighbors and fellow-citizens. You might have a bohemian living next door. Just do unto others as you would have them do unto you, and we’ll all get along fine.

King of Soul

The Benjamin Key

In 1752, Benjamin Franklin caught the spark of electric energy that would change the world.

Two centuries later, Walter Benjamin caught the spark of watching. . . and then recovering from, both mega-evils of the 20th century. . . Russian communist murder and abuse. . .and also German nazi fascism.world-class murder and holocaust. He witnessed them both, first hand, and lived just long enough to tell about it. His testimony of that experience was recovered from the ashes of history by a few simple twists of fate, faith, and the sparks of inspiration that charge the human desire for liberty. Going back even further in time, the account of brothers Joseph and Benjamin in Genesis was a testimony of our Creator’s omniscient sparks to power up His redemptive ways and means of converting the storm clouds of human tragedy into enlightenment and redemption. As for the Benjamin of our era. . . Benjamin Netanyahu— he is in dire straits, caught between a rock and a hard place. . . panicking, over-reacting, slaughtering palestinians ostensibly for the sake of saving Israel. Has Benjamin forgotten the commandment that Moses had brought down in the Ancient days? Trying to save Israel by breaking the sixth commandment? How’s that working out for ya, Benjamin? But. . . news flash! Israel has already been saved!. . . if they will but turn to Yeshua ha Meschiach, the One they executed. But not to worry. . . the Lord’s omniscience and omnipotence used that crucifixion to show the world that we can, indeed, survive death itself, when we turn to YWHW, the Creator who brought all of us into this amazing world of hot flashes and cool recoveries. Retro flash!: Read the Benjamin story in Genesis, chapters 43-45. . . a testimony of God’s omniscience and redemptive omnipotence, in spite of the violent cruelty of fascist dictators and magamaniacal presidents who think they can solve the problems of the world by lobbing bombs and drones at Persians in Hormuz. We live in a cruel world. Some day, each one of us—you and I— will leave this world and be delivered to our final destination, heaven or hell. I don’t about you, but when my time comes and I enter heaven, I will greet, joyfully, my old friend Benjamin, who lit the spark of pastoral care and brotherhood with me before taking leave from this world of sorrow, woe, loss and recovery, misery and joy. Before we leave this world, we should all catch the spark of eternal life. . . like the Quaker gentleman, Benjamin Franklin caught the spark on a kite wire, back in the early days of America.

Glass half-Full

Baseball

Watching the old black and white TV in the 1950’s, the memory of Dizzy Dean and Pee Wee Reese was etched into my mind. Growing up in the deep south, the New York Yankees, Boston Red Sox. . . the Phillies, the Pirates, the White Sox, the Cubs. . . the heroic masters of baseball. . . Mickey Mantle, Roger Maris, Yogi Berra. . . they were heroes, visible on our TV screens, with Dizzy and PeeWee providing the commentary that informed us of what was happening on the field. . . . . .a swing and a miss. . . a ground ball to Boyer; he scoops it, makes the throw, and beats the runner at first, Mazeroski out, and that retires the side, with Pittsburgh up by one as we go into the fifth inning (or) . . . there’s a high fly ball out to left field, Willie Mays has it, for the second out, as Cletis Boyer steps up to the plate, hoping to get the Cardinals back into this ball game.

Such was the ongoing dialogue between Dean and PeeWee in every game that they covered for television audiences all over the nation. . . and not only the events of the game, the changing scores. . . the dynamic duo of sports broadcasting had plenty of history and experience and professional insight into the game itself. Dizzy and PeeWee had total understanding of the game, both having been star players back in the day. . . In 1947, our nation was still torn apart with racism and discrimination against black folks. Jackie Robinson. When he was promoted from the Dodgers farm team up to the Dodgers roster. He endured horrible abuse from the crowds, and even from his teammates. As for their opponents on the diamond, hatred and name-calling was terrible. During Jackie’s earliest pro games, some pitchers actually aimed their pitches at Jackie’s head. But Jackie got by, and excelled, with a little help from a few friends.

His ardent defender on the Dodgers team was Pee Wee Reese. During a pre-game warmup, the fans were heckling Jackie loudly. Pee Wee, captain of the team, went over to Jackie, had a brief talk with him, and put his arm on Jackie’s shoulder, an obvious, very public, gesture of kindness, friendship and confidence. That was one small gesture for man, one giant leap for mankind! I wasn’t even born yet. About ten years later, I would be watching TV on Saturday a afternoon, listening to Pee Wee and Dizzy report on a game, maybe the Yankees, or the Braves, or the Pirates, the Phillies, Dodgers. . . Meanwhile, in hundreds of neighborhoods somewhere America, young boys were gathering for a baseball game. In their imagination. . . “Now it was time for Mickey Mantle, Roger Maris, Yogi Berra to step up to the plate, and Donnie and Mike and Joe, and whoever would show up, Jackie Robinson, Willie Mays and Hank Aaron. These boys, eight or nine of them, began to congregate at the large corner lot next to where the Thompsons live. There was no backstop or nothing like that, which really didn’t matter, they had all the time in the world, it being summer”. . . (excerpt from chapter two of my 2017 novel, King of Soul Baseball has been very very good to me!. . . and to America. . . and to the world!