Pursuing the writing thread after my walk, sipping my first cuppa writing coffee (I drink one cup of coffee at home in the morning to start my heart), I’m thinking about America’s division. We come together for disasters. Hurricanes, wildfires, and other disasters bring us together to help and save one another. In those instances, we’re no longer just Americans, but humans, caring for one another.
Then someone takes a gun and kills several people. Suddenly we’re not humans toward each other, nor even Americans, but Liberals and Conservatives, hurling insults and threats at one another, and creating a storm of anger and hostility.
Will there ever come a time when we move beyond this, to that place where we’re always humans to each other, stepping up to help, without resorting to vitriol? I don’t know. I have hopes it’ll happen. Then someone writes or says something that I find stupid, offensive, or horribly wrong, and there I am, in the storm of anger once again.
Warning This album contains extreme sounds which could damage musical equipment when played at high volume
That’s from Jesus Jones’ “Doubt” album, from nineteen ninety-one. It gave me pause when I read that. And yeah, there is some stuff on the album that prompts the eternal musing we each encounter, “What the hell?”
They are several songs on the album that I enjoy. I was streaming “International Bright Young” thing, for some reason, but the far more mellow song, “Right Here, Right Now,” came into play. I think it’s more known, at least in the U.S.A., so I’m going with it. I always like these lyrics from the song:
I saw the decade in, when it seemed
the world could change at the blink of an eye
And if anything
then there’s your sign of the times
A sidebar, probably only amusing to me, is that my friend, Randy, loves the Van Halen song, “Right Now.” Whenever I’d mention “Right Here, Right Now,” he’d be confused, and tell me, “I don’t know that song. Do you mean “Right Now,” by Van Halen?”
I was in stationed in Germany when this came out. The album, “Full Moon Fever,” quickly became a favorite for home listening.
It’s ironic to think of that time. The U.S.S.R. was the United States’ towering enemy. Germany was divided, a creation established at the end of World War II. The Berlin Wall stood firm. A few years later, it, and the Soviet Union, were gone. We’ve just celebrated the anniversary of Germany re-unification.
The people I was stationed with in Germany were hard-working, patriotic, dependable, and loyal. Yet, two decades later, I’m on a the other side of a political divide from them. They’re angry with pro athletes who take a knee. They want a wall built. They fear refugees and distrust Muslims. A lot of them love Con Don Trump. Many despise Hillary Clinton for reasons they can’t explain, except it’s Hillary, and they don’t trust her.
It’s interesting to contemplate what’s come between us. Maybe it was just music, a common mission, and enjoying a good time that brought us together.
One more time, from the heart, Tom Petty, with “I Won’t Back Down,” co-written with Jeff Lynne.
Streaming to you live through memories of recorded music heard in my youth, here is Supertramp with “Bloody Well Right.” Seems appropriate as we wrestle with rights and bloodshed.
I’m starting out crabby this morning. I haven’t had my coffee.
I just read an article about California’s right-to-die law. Before that, I read about fake news, sometimes called alt-news, and its spread after the Vegas murders of fifty-nine people at a concert. Before it, I read about the surge in gun sales and the rise in gun-manufacturers’ stock prices. Sales and stock prices go up because people fear that gun controls will be implemented.
The echoes of past debates about all this gains volume as new arguments. America enjoys the satisfaction of having the right to own guns. Americans have enough private weapons to provide eighty-eight of one hundred people with a weapon. But we know it’s not all of us who want to be able to shoot and kill other creatures.
That’s what’s interesting about the juxtaposition of these three stories. People, even with terminal conditions and in terrible pain, are often not afforded the right to kill themselves. It’s not their right. Our government owns that right. In a few places, it’s delegated to bureaucratic processes, but it’s mostly considered a no-no. Your life is too valuable for you to have that control. We’re going to make you hang on until your last breath.
But then, we have the weapons that can fire ten rounds a second, as the killer did in Vegas, or twenty-four rounds in ten seconds, as the Orlando killer did. And that’s your right to own. You don’t have the right to kill, unless you feel threatened, and your state has a defend-your-ground law. The interpretation of that has law has gotten broad. Police officers also have broad latitude, killing others if they feel threatened for themselves or the public. Wounding is less often an option. So here, the right to kill is widely distributed, for a variety of reasons. These reasons seem to trump the sanctity of life.
The last story was about freedom of the press, and the difficulty of coping with the spread of lies, known as false news, fake news, or alternate news, instead of being called bullshit, and lies, as it should be, because, well, rights. People fear that if we start calling bullshit on these things, then bullshit will occur. And as we dither about what to do, what to do, bullshit happens. With that bullshit, we struggle against tides of fears, change, doubt. Then the echoes of debate fade, until the next time.
Enough of this. I’m going to get my coffee and go read about the people complaining about athletes exercising their to protest during the propaganda portion of our sports events called playing the national anthem.
That’s not why wars were fought and soldiers gave their lives, you know. How dare people be so disrespect of their lives?
Hey, come on try a little
Nothing is forever
There’s got to be something better than
In the middle
Yes, being stuck in the middle…not fun. We find that again, with the Las Vegas massacre. We’re stuck in the middle of a gummy, messy life, struggling for traction, and spinning our wheels.
Though I need to look back to all the revolutions that have already passed, and the solutions found, and the resolutions made, and the resolve embraced. Humanity follows this long arc. We attempt to flower, but some are afraid to flower. They want it the way it was, and think, that’s the way it should always be. Others of us think, that was good, but it excluded too many people. We trampled too many others to have it all our way. There must be a better way ahead. So, we keep pushing, and will keep pushing, even as others push back.
You might recognize those lyrics. They’re from Ozzie Osbourne’s song, “Crazy Train.”
When I first heard it, it struck me as right. Craziness was, is, a subject that’s avoided. It’s considered a perjorative, and a derogative expression. Ozzie fully embraced it, starting with that maniacal opening laugh, and that welcome, “All aboard.”
The song fits these days. Caught between political rails, we’re riding a crazy train. Everything is politicized and amplified. Political discourse is healthy, but too many of us hang onto hate and the past, refusing to open our eyes and look around. We just keep riding this crazy train. Sooner or later, it’ll all go off the rails. When it does — if it does — I expect few mea culpas. All of us are blaming the others. Liberals, progressives, conservatives, neo-Nazis, Republicans, Democrats, white supremacists, slaves, refugees, religions, history, wealth, privilege, ignorance, poverty, disease and war…we throw the blame around, and hang onto our new world slogan: Never Forget.
We, of any ilk, are loathe to forget anything. On the one hand, we must remember to learn, and not repeat our mistakes. But we need to find that balance between remembering, learning, and moving forward. Of course, to move forward, an agreed upon direction is required. We fail agreeing on where we should be in ten years. And sometimes, we remember one aspect of history to the detriment of other aspects.
I can’t forget. I try. Perhaps I don’t try enough. For example, I can’t forget the last election for POTUS. I despise Donald Trump. He represents the world’s worst qualities to me. By extension, I have a hard time with his supporters. I don’t understand their support. They don’t understand why I don’t support him. They don’t understand why I can’t forget. But I can’t forget how Trump and other conservatives treated Barack Obama, and Bill Clinton, long before this.
It’s not just politics, though. Old wrongs, bitterness, and resentment cling to me like cobwebs. I can never rid myself of them all. I try working and writing myself out of it. I bite my tongue, take a lot of deep breaths, and indulge in long counts to calm myself and move on. But I’m fighting the enemy I best know from longevity, yet one that I know the least. Because he knows me, too, and knows how to manipulate me.
Yeah, we’re often our own worst enemy. That’s how we end up on the crazy train.
Nineteen sixty-nine, thirteen years old. The Rolling Stones were one of the hottest, biggest rock groups around. And this song, “Gimme Shelter,” stopped me with its opening. Haunting, arresting, it gave me pause to hear what was going to come next, revealing intense, moody, and angry lyrics.
Michael Seidel, writer 