How Poor?

Often I describe my childhood "growing up poor." I never used that term earlier in my life. Even now it's certainly a relative description of our circumstances. My mom was an information operator for the telephone company. She certainly knew how to balance a checkbook. I always had anything I needed and the best of it at that. She often went without to see that I had anything that I wanted.

Now I find myself living in a country that is number thirty or so in infant mortality while we spend trillions of dollars on wars that have to do with the defense industry, an ironic term if I ever used one; the petroleum companies; and the banking firms. We spend billions on bombers longer than football fields and refer to the other bad guys, the ones with sandals and grenades, as terrorists. It's cowboys and indians on steroids.

If Gerry Adams can shake Prince Charles' hand in public, I can find peace in my own heart. Speak out against war. 

No civilization that allows its babies to perish while lining the pockets of billionaires can thrive for long. I have a vision through that fog of war and it's beautiful. It's all about love and the soundtrack is sweet rock'n'roll.