I’m full of memories today. Birthday is tomorrow and today is a holiday. Both, though, pale because they remind me of meeting my wife.
Which, because I was fifteen and she was fourteen (we married four years later), reminds me of my youth, and the way life was for me. Sort of interesting. My parents were divorced. I lived in Pittsburgh, PA, with Mom. Dad, in the Air Force and newly returned from Germany, was stationed in Ohio. They generously accepted my request to live with him, leading me to meet my wife. She was my Dad’s best friend’s daughter.
Which brings me to us, almost fifty years later. But those are other tales. We’re here for the music today.
Since the memory jukebox has landed in 1971, I selected a song from that time. There are a lot of great tunes but “Me and Bobby McGee” has wedged itself into the stream. Although written by Kris Kristofferson and originally sung by Roger Miller, I like the Janis Joplin cover best, as much for her style as for its impact as a marker in my life.
I know this song because Mom liked it, played it, and sang it. A country song, its cover by Jeannie C. Riley became a cross-over hit in 1968. The song later became the basis for a movie and a television show.
Why is it in my head today? My best guess is that my brain is playing head games with me. But the song is about the establishment (you know them), change, hypocrisy, rebellion, and judgement, (along with small town life) so that fits the here and now of our times, no? Sure, we can stretch.
Here’s Jeannie C. Riley with “Harper Valley PTA”.
I want to tell you all the story ‘Bout a Harper Valley widowed wife Who had a teenage daughter Who attended Harper Valley Junior High
Well, her daughter came home one afternoon And didn’t even stop to play And she said, “Mom, I got a note here From the Harper Valley PTA”
Well, the note says, “Mrs. Johnson You’re wearing your dresses way too high It’s reported you’ve been drinkin’ And a runnin’ ’round with men and goin’ wild”
“And we don’t believe you ought to be A bringin’ up your little girl this way” And it was signed by the secretary Harper Valley PTA
Watching the riots remind me of my youth. Born in 1956 in the U.S., we had riots frequently in the sixties.
This month’s riot began when George Floyd, a black man, was apprehended by police, and died, allegedly for something involving forged documents.
Death by police officer is surely the response for such a heinous suspicion, right?
Watching police brutality in 1971, Obie Benson questioned what he was seeing. With Al Cleveland and Marvin Gaye, the thoughts were put into a song that became a Marvin Gaye hit. At that time, protesters were standing up against the Vietnam War. Police, demonstrating the restraint that we’ve come to know well from them, waded in, resulting in what became known as “Bloody Thursday”.
We’ve seen it many times; protests arise. Unless you’re white and armed (see Michigan this year), the police are gonna come hard. (Didn’t help that the POTUS (ever thoughtful and considered in his response) said, “When the looting starts, the shooting starts,” quoting the Miami police chief from the 1967 riots).
The government is by the people and for the people, until the people speak up against the government (unless, again, you’re armed and white in the woke United States) (witness the frequency of armed white males killers with automatic weapons being peacefully apprehended), then look out, people.
BTW, this post was created with the new WP editor. Initial question: WTF did it need to change? Evolutionary improvements, I understand. I thought the other was an intuitive system. Now they want me to ‘insert blocks’, which include such common blocks such as ‘paragraphs’. Christ.
Their little floating block editor jumps in front of text, forcing you to navigate around it to see WTF is going on.
Something disturbed my memories’ deepest levels. Don’t know what, but into this morning’s musical stream comes an oldie. We’re talking early sixties, when I was four or five.
Of course, I’d heard this song throughout the sixties. Played in movies, television, and on vinyl via Mom’s Magnavox high-fidelity stereo, I’ve heard this song sung by Judy Garland, Nat King Cole, Dean Martin, Louie Armstrong, and more.
The version I knew best, though, was Frank Sinatra. I heard him sing it hundreds of times in my childhood. Mom sang along as she washed dishes in the sing and cooked dinner. Later in life, I surprised people with my various imitations of people singing this song, including and especially Frank (although I was also very partial to the Jimmy Durante version, too — he had such a unique voice and style).
Enough, right? Here’s Frank Sinatra with “You’re Nobody til Somebody Loves You” from 1962.
An old but apropos song hit my mental music stream last night. Maybe it was the sunshine and rain. Could be that the green full trees and blossoms cast a spell on me. Probably a combo of that, along with restless mind syndrome, but the weeks of limited movement and near-continuous confinement gave me a jab.
“We gotta get out of this place,” I sang to my wife, remembering the 1964 hit by the Animals. “If it’s the last thing we ever do.”
Here it is. Turn it up. Sing along. “We Gotta Get Out of this Place”. Watch the video. Dig that set.
I haven’t read about many streakers recently. I am surprised.
As lockdowns and business shutdowns are argued and protested, I’d think that stripping off your clothes and running outside would be a natural mechanism to make your voice heard. Nothing makes people hear you more than running around with all your bits flapping. Makes more sense than shouting in police officers’ faces, or threatening others with guns.
Maybe I’m just too early on the curve, and the streaking is about to commence. Perhaps my idea will inspire someone to do it. Yeah, don’t look at me to be the spark plug. I’m a hairy fellow. Last time that I went streaking, people thought a mini Bigfoot was running around. Ended up with that nickname for years. Strangers would see me and shout, “Hey, Bigfoot, how’s it going?” Mom and my sisters started calling me that, too. I thought that showed poor taste on their part.
In honor of the idea, the song, “The Streak” by Ray Stevens (1974) is today’s theme music. Ray had the idea for the song but didn’t execute it until streakers were suddenly everywhere in the news. It’s a story-telling song that utilizes puns and double meanings to express what was going on from a reporter interviewing a witness. The witness is married to Ethel, and he’s always warning her, “Don’t look, Ethel,” and it’s always too late. The song culminates with the witness shouting, “Is that you, Ethel? You get your clothes on.”
“Well you don’t know what uh we can find
Why don’t you come with me little girl?
On a magic carpet ride
You don’t know what we can see
Why don’t you tell your dreams to me?
Fantasy will set you free
Close your eyes girl
Look inside girl
h/t to Metrolyrics.com
Yeah, it’s Steppenwolf with “Magic Carpet Ride” (1968). I was a big Steppenwolf fan in those days; “Born to be Wild”, “The Pusher”, “Sookie, Sookie”, and today’s theme music were heard at least once a day in the summer of my twelfth year. Mom was aware enough of them that when an article about the group and John Kay’s escape from the Soviet side of Germany was in the Pittsburgh Press, she brought it to my attention.
It’s come up today because, hey, locked into the house, a magic carpet ride would be mighty fine to do a flyover. Even more, fantasy will set you free. Fiction writing is the fantasy that sets me free. Although my quasi-official writing time is about three hours a day, fiction writers (including me) will tell you that the story and its twists and characters invade every mental recess, influencing (and influenced by) every interaction and activity. It’s an interesting trip.
Enjoy the music. Happy Friday, and happy May 1st. Another month in the books. Persevere and overcome the current adversity, endure, and then prosper.
Thinking about a big coming out party, someday, after the crises is resolved. (A.C.: After COVID-19. We’ll start a new reference system – “In 2 AC, the first normal baseball game was played.”) Maybe the theme should be dancing in the streets.
The song, “Dancing in the Street”, and its many versions jumped into the stream. I do enjoy the Mick and David version. But I don’t want to show favoritism, so here’s a few offerings. Looking at them, I’m surprised that it has sprung up as a new cover by some one, like, I don’t know, Kelly Clarkson.
David Bowie and Mick Jagger, 1985. Boy, the disco era is really displayed in their clothing style. Fitting for responding to a global problem, as this collaboration was done to raise money and awareness for “Live Aid” famine relief.
Martha and the Vandelllas, 1964 – the original, to me.
Today’s music was released in 1966. I was ten years old. Neighborhood kids had this song (and about ten zillion others) on a forty-five. We gathered in their basement in Wilkinsburg, PA, and had dance parties, with the records being played on a little portable record-player.
“Kicks” by Paul Revere and the Raiders, was about drug use, getting sucked into that world, and how it can happen without warning. That’s true about so many things; changes occur under our noses. Our bodies shift. Bad habits led to poor under-lying conditions but we’re oblivious to them until a medical emergency erupts. Same thing can happen to romantic and sexual relationships, friendships, finances, houses, and cars. Those little, sneaking changes are noticed but not noted until they combine into one big fucking change that explodes in your face.
Anyway, “Kicks” came into my musical stream this morning as I was reflecting on last night dreams. There’s one line in the song that says, “You’ll never run away from you, and if you keep on running, you’ll have to pay the price.”
Yeah, you can’t run away from you. It’s a distance too far.
Lock downs, quarantine, self-distancing, isolation, and every other way you can think of saying “We’re staying inside” is still in effect in many places. Restlessness is grabbing people. They’re suffering urges to hit the road, get their nails done, go bowling, or just stroll the streets and have a drink with friends. Some of them are thinking of escape.
Which brought to mind, “Gimme Three Steps” by Lynyrd Skynyrd from 1973. Bet that’s more than a few out there, thinking, gimme three steps, and I’ll be out the door ‘fore you know it.
Michael Seidel, writer 