Feast Of The Mumu

Sometimes, some things are gonna go wrong. I believe we can all agree on that. We're all gonna die someday. Pretty sure we can go along with that one, too. Oh, I wish it weren't so, but I have finally figured out that my wishing isn't going to change a thing.

From here on out I'm going to try my best to just enjoy the cruise. I'll avoid some cake in an attempt to hang around a little longer, and I'll keep my pants on occasionally to keep from ruining someone else's day. I don't remember anyone losing sleep over me working  too hard or worrying too much.

When it comes to politics or money or religion, count me out. Oh, I believe what I believe and I spend what I have. I wish nice, smart folks ran governments. I don't much care for a lot of what I see, but my life is beautiful. I'll help when I can and I'm always ready with a shoulder to cry on. Meanwhile, I'll pet every dog that I pass on the street and I'll keep my mind on the good stuff without feeling guilty. I hope I can serve as an example of some kind.

Give us peace on earth and end this dreadful, dreadful war.

 

No Lollygagging, Please

Isn't it funny how yesterday's problems don't seem like much today. The most important thing on your agenda today is that thing that you spend most of your time thinking about. Now that I've had my blood test, I'm pretty much out of things to worry about. I plan to spend the rest of the day with my head in the stars and my mind in the gutter.

Don't run out of things to dream about. 

Give us peace on earth and end this dreadful, dreadful war.

 

The Sad Years

How will we look back on this time? Well, how will you look back. Life expectancy in the UK for a man is 79. I'm 78 and change.

Since the fifth grade, I've known about meanness. Based on the number of bullies at Roosevelt elementary school in Tampa in 1956, I estimated that there might be one bully in any group of 100. (Make that 50 if the group is all male).

Oh, I certainly know that girls can be cruel, but we're talking here about pulling wings off June bugs, not sending notes about cooties.

Now, as I watch footage of grown ups praising some god that I don't recognize, huddled in prayer over taking away food and medicine from poor people so that bigger bombs can be built without billionaires having to chip in, my heart breaks.

This is not my century, boys.

If you're gonna fight, fight with love.

 

Nothing Slips Away

Most of our consciousness is consumed with thoughts of stuff, isn't it? Cars, houses, clothing, investments, bills, dinner, ad nauseam. Much of the rest goes towards mortality in one sense or another, ours or someone else's.

All the rest is the good part, the joie de vivre.

The healthy mind wanders towards the gutter I suppose.

Give us peace on earth and end this dreadful, dreadful war.

 

Dangerous Toys and Greasy Skillets and the Sorrow Chord

Is there a sadder sound than the song of a flock of seagulls? Maybe. I've never heard it. 

Some of the eras of great art preceded the major wars. The joy expressed when peace returned to a land always lasted until it began to fade with treaties in shreds.

Now, war is perpetual. How much is due to profit? Who knows.

They taught me about the Crusades in school. Not much.

When you watch the religion that you grew up with appropriated for greed and power, there's a special kind of heartbreak unleashed.

When immigrants and the poor and people of color are villainised while jerks who have amassed vast fortunes are lionised, my world seems to wobble on its axis.

Is there a sadder sight than democracy being replaced like yesterday's skirt length by tyrants and despots? Maybe. I've never seen it.

In my lifetime, capitalism was mostly good.... until the rich decided they needed the crumbs, the scraps. Oh, well.

Give us peace on earth and end this dreadful, dreadful war. Seems almost trite now, compared to when Lottie first told me. Means more to me than ever.

 

Good Knowin' You

 

At this stage, every trip to the USA is likely to be my last. Fortunately, my memories are re-enforced with kindness and sweet interaction with friends, old and new. Of course I fret about the ones that I didn't get to see this time 'round. 

Back home in England, life is quiet. Enchanting and quiet. 

How many more summers, how many more songs?

Graveyards By The Highway

Packing for a trip to the States and I'm sadly aware that I'm going back to a different place than the one I left. When folks here in the UK hear my drawl, they tend to slowly shake their head and a sorrowful expression takes control of their face.

The USA, never perfect, seems to have always been the good guy. When Uncle Sam has gotten it wrong, e.g., Viet Nam, the Edsel, Milli Vanilli, he seems to have always dusted himself off and gone on with the good stuff. We're talking here about the home of rock'n'roll, Moon Pies and monkey races.

Of course I look forward to seeing friends and family. I've quit hearing from anyone so if they aren't addicted to some social media platform, I'm unaware of any personal news. Two weeks is a short time to catch up on a lifetime's memories.

If this reads like some sad sack's moaning about the good old days, I apologise. We're all pulling for you, America. I don't hear that full-figured girl yet.

Give us peace on earth and end this dreadful, dreadful war.