Now and Theb

The good news is that this baby boomer has survived 73 years, so far. As for how many more years on this earth are ahead for me, only the Lord knows. One thing I’ve noticed is that times change. As Bro Bob had pointed out to us back in the day, the times they are a-changin’. They always were; they always will. As the ancient King Solomon put it, there’s “nothing new under the sun.” While that is true, insofar as we consider the human person, what his/her inclinations are. . . self-preservation, producing offspring, courting, cultivating prosperity and security. . . All of that is good, y’all, and its all as old as the hills. But of course we do notice that there are, nevertheless, some new things under the sun, y’know. . . trains, cars, planes, rockets, radios, TVs, computers, www, phones. I mean, everywhere you go nowadays, every person you see is stroking there little electronic widget gadget. It’s kind of funny, really, here in Orlando the little phone position seems to be de riguer. My g-generation has come a long way, in spite of all our identity issues. There was a time, back in the day, when we got all hung up on Haight Ashbury. As time slid on, we kinda moved our emphases down the coast. . . to Hollywood, Laurel Canyon, Anaheim and the Disney thing. Then, thanks to Uncle Walt and his club of musketeers, and a little help from our friends, we kind gravitated from Anaheim to Orlando, which is where I am now. You can take a cross-country flight, if you’re young or if you’re old, and the Floridians will love it if ya do, if ya do now. While tooling around here yesterday, we crossed over into the U-verse. In our trek around there, I noticed some changes that have been bred and bled into our g-generation. We’ve gone from Mickey and Minnie to Harry and Hogwarts. I noticed, also, that King King had survived his wrestling match with the Empire State building, because he’s alive and well in Orlando, as vicious and furious as ever, striving so viciously to destroy us all. But he didn’t get us! But seriously, y’all, as I was sayin’. . .We’ve gone from Donald and Daisie, through Luke Skywalker’s time warp, with a little help from Obie wan Konobi, to gain victory over darth vader and his weirdo companions, who seemed to be even worse than the harpies who made so much trouble for Dorothy, back in Oz. If I remember right, I think we entered the Twilight Zone unexpectedly. . . about 1961 or so. Things got weird after that, beginning on November 22, 1963, degenerating into our confrontation with the Viet Cong and then all that other stuff. . . right up to the worst dam 9/11 call thnt anyone could ever imagine. But I digress. I mean, we got through all that. The ’70’s had slidden in and we coasted through, with a little help from our friends, and time rolled on by. And then late, We got through the 9/11 ordeal. But I digress. So yesterday I was noticing some of these developments and devolutions as we strolled through the Orlando U-verse. Our newfound curiosity and capacity for entertainment seems to have enabled a theme park obsession with traipsing through vast structures that appear, for the life of me . . . to be ancient, like way back in England or Europe or some antiquated place like that, with Gothic windows and archaic-themed innuendos. I guess Americans have, from the beginning, been so new-world and newfangled that . . .we satisfy our need for tradition and feeling planted in ancient roots by traipsing the the theme parks, where new stuff is elaborately—and so incredibly—fashioned, as to present for our touristing experience. . . Harry and Hogwarts, London King Cross station and Islands of Adventure, Volcano Bay. I mean, we’ve come a long way since 1969! . . . back in time. Gone, gone, gone with the wind are Howdy Doody an Deputy Dawg. Gone are Lassie, Flicka, Beaver and Wally. Gone, gone are Ed Sullivan, Ted Mack, Dick Clark, Johnny Carson. It must be that King Kong grabbed them all and flung them into the Hollywood deepfate, or the magafied deepstate, whichever came first. After our traipse through Hogwart’s yesterday, methinks that some foul spirit hath gotten hold of our boomer fold, and hath sentenced us to the pseudo-ancient burial grounds of American pop culture. Maybe the curse was pronounced when the joker leaped cross the stage in a coat he borrowed from James Dean, hynotizing his audience, expressing sympathy for something, or someone, not on the level, or whomever/ whatever that is. But I think the real downhill slide began happened on the upper west side of the Big Apple. The Beatles, after their long run of revolutionizing the rock-world, finally had their Now and Then bitter end, shot down by a madman in that big apple where the New Yawk Thymes had said God is Dead, or some crazy, pseudo-revolutionary thing. As it all turned out. . . Paul never was dead, but then John was. . . and later George and so. . . I guess they met BBKing and Buddy Holly and Elvis and the Everly Brothers in that great culture Collaboration in the sky. We shall know, by ’n by . . . how it all pans out. I can say that, because I follow the One who died on a cross two thousand years ago but then demonstrated everlasting Life by walking out the tomb. I’m quite sure no wogworts spell had a hold on Him! Now you can pick a cherry off the tree, like George Washington did; and you can pick an apple off the tree, like Johnny Appleseed did. But if you come across a worldweb tree. . .

. . . and there’s some sneaky critter slithering around, who’s offering you you a megabyte of something shiny and sweet— walk softly and carry a big Book. Matthew, Mark, Luke and John will do just fine, any time, for evaluating what is going on and who’s presenting this, that or the other thing, message or massage. . . to you. All the rest is just sound and fury signifying nothing. That’s the conclusion this baby boomer came to, in my encounter with Lord of the (rings) Universe, back in 1978. King of Soul