Class

When I think of the ones who have passed before me and shown me something of value, I guess the common element has always been class. Talent? It's everywhere, isn't it? Passion? Sometimes it's good and sometimes you're on the wrong end of it.

There are teetotalers out there who are shrill and judgmental and there are sober folks who know how to have their fun. I know plenty of drunks that I would never refer to as "common." We've all seen our share of the crude ones.

Some of my favorite folks are rich. Some of them are really rich. Yeah, I've known rich people with class and rich people without any. Of course I know more poor people. Same deal. 

Elvis had class. Ricky had class. Marilyn had class; Jayne, not so much. My neighbor, Derek Jeter has class. Michael Vick? You tell me.

You can learn to have class. You can't fake it, though. It's all about the compassion and the kindness, I suppose, isn't it?

Was It Something I Said?

The man on the radio yesterday told me that we're losing fewer people to war today than ever. There aren't as many folks killing other folks in general. Our perception that war is everywhere and that murder is rampant has to do with our sources of information. In other words, it seems that war is everywhere and that crime is overwhelming us because we see it on the news all the time.

I don't know about you but I'm still hoping for more for mankind. I want to end poverty and cure cancer. I'm looking for equality between the races and genders. I want the homeless taken in and that includes the homeless animals. I may as well wish for the planet to be taken care of while I'm wishing. 

When I was a kid I would sit for hours with the Sears & Roebuck catalog. I would go through it page by page. I'd select one item on every page for every cousin, aunt and uncle. Grandma would be allotted one thing and there would be one for my mom. In the lingerie section I would skip things for the boys but I didn't spend any less time there. My commune existed in my head. It was all love and peace.

Now, I'm an old man. I want to buy the world a Coke. Well, a healthy juice.

Maybe we are inching along. I hope so. We're all in it together. I love you.

Life's Supposed To Be Easy

Well, it's 60 degrees out there. Beautiful. It's time for me to settle in for gloom. When the weather gets nice, I grow melancholy. Could be worse. It could be spring.

I've often described myself as an acquired taste, the brussel sprouts of americana. It now dawns on me that I'm more a moldy loaf of bread as a mate. It's clearly time to re-invent myself and I don't know how. There was a time when I merely went to the barber shop, asked for a flattop, and- voila,

a new version.

Death To Hipsters?

Well sir, as I begin to pack to move away from the snooty part of town I worry that I'm not much better prepared to fit in with the hipsters. First of all, how has the term taken on a derogatory twist? Oh, I suppose it always happens.

The beats quickly became the butt of their own cosmic joke. Heck, I still want to be a beatnik. Of course the term hippie pretty quickly became "dirty" hippie. Excuse me but what's so funny about peace, love and understanding?

Now I see all the pretty young moms pushing their well scrubbed babies up and down the aisles in Publix in my new neighborhood. Their tattoos are exemplary and some of their piercings are incredible. Their partners with their fedoras and black t-shirts are looking for the new local brews on the shelves.

We all need to fit in, to be part of some tribe, somewhere.

I didn't do this particular photo-joke of me. You can give credit to my pal, John Fullbright. If he weren't from Oklahoma, he'd qualify as a hipster.

A Running Start

When I think of all the joy that Little Richard records brought me as a kid, I get chills. Growing up, Elvis was my role model. I guess he still is. The Beatles changed my life in the most profound ways and I learned far more about life from those four than I ever did in any school classroom.

Yeah, I could blather on and talk about Hank Williams, Louis Jordan, Chuck Berry and Bill Haley. I wouldn't know where to stop.

If I could ever think that I made a single person happy for just a minute or that I had opened a floodgate of tears with a weeper, I would be satisfied. You paint because you have to. You sculpt because you have no choice.

There comes a time when you look over your shoulder to see if you've touched anyone. My life's work is all about love. My degree's in geography. I don't know much about that, either.

Post Office Walls

Always loved going to the post office in Jemison to look at the wanted posters on the wall. Aunt Marion was the post mistress and I spent hours studying the criminal faces, memorizing the dates and the crimes. Then I would head over to the drug store to check out the new rock'n'roll magazines. Dig, Hep Cat's Review... all the good ones.

All I've ever wanted, really, is to know who I am and have some girl's hand to hold. Nothing changes. Ever. Take care of that little kid in you. Love. That's the mystery. That's the answer. Loneliness is the enemy and we're all lonely.

New Shoes, Old Friends

Maybe it's because I've had such good heroes. I don't know. Uncle Reid was probably first. Uncle Morgan, Uncle Murray and Uncle Moss were always there for me, too. Oh, I have great female influences in my life as well. Grandma was the wisest and sweetest human who ever lived. She taught me to pray, "Give us peace on earth and end this dreadful, dreadful war." I suppose I must have been three or four. I never learned anything more important.

My mom brought me home records. Hank Williams, Elvis, Little Richard, Wynonie Harris. She took me to see Hank Ballard, Sam Cooke, Bo Diddley, Lavern Baker, Bill Haley and oh, so many others. That's where the heroes came from that shaped my identity. I'm a rock'n'roller. That's what I do.

I'm a feminist, too. I was raised by women. All my aunts, Josephine, Marion, Pauline and Wilma- they showed me that it's women who run the show. The real show. Now Aunt Jo is the only one left. She's ninety eight years old and she's a firecracker.

It's a struggle for me. What if I'm never the man that I should have been? What if I never live up to what they all had in mind for me? I do believe that you can teach an old dog new tricks. Heck, I have. I know that it's not enough to preach love. You have to love, love hard, love unconditionally and without fear or reservation. Keep an eye on me. I'm trying.