Taking Sides

Friends, did you ever think that you were just a breath away from a real insight, a real epiphany? That’s how I’m feeling right this second. In my mind I can almost believe that if I write out, in some logical way, my thought processes as they’re occurring then I’ll have one of those moments of discovery. So bear with me as I try to describe this effort at explaining why it is hopeless to ever believe that consensus or compromise or harmony will ever exist in our society. Hell those things might not be possible anywhere in the world outside of a monastery.

Today I was reading the newspaper editorial page. On the page were two letters to the editor, one supporting stringent gun control and confiscation of all weapons owned by individuals and the other stating the argument for constitutionally guaranteed gun ownership. Each of these letters referenced the same set of facts; guns are used by bad people to kill other people, it’s easy for bad people to get guns. The anti-gun folks see those two facts as a call to get guns out of the hands of everyone thereby, logically, getting them out of the hands of bad people. The pro-gun people see the facts as a logical impetus for good people to have guns so they can stop bad people from killing good people. Of course this is a simplistic presentation of the argument but my point is that no matter how each side presents its argument to the other side there will be no agreement. Why not, I ask myself? There will be no agreement because each side has a set of core beliefs that are never going to be reconciled.

It doesn’t matter which issue we look at. And we all know the modern media is capable of looking at dozens of issues every minute of every day. In fact we are battered with information about how divided we all have become. Immigration, abortion, gay marriage, energy development, education, health care and many other issues can elicit a highly predictable response from people who have those firmly embedded core beliefs. Each group thinks the other is basically wrong. They don’t think that the other group is just a little bit in error. There isn’t any room, on either side, for tolerance. Each member of each side of any issue thinks that they are right and the other side is dead wrong and pretty much a bunch of idiotic imbeciles. Some lip service may be given to tolerance and compromise in the halls of political debate. But, really, when does compromise happen?  One side will win and create laws to solidify its position. The other loses and harbors resentment and anger.

Years ago there may have been some negotiation on issues that resulted in compromise. I’ve read some history and can find a few instances where that happened. But usually issues are decided when one side wields enough power to wrangle the other side into submission. Compromise often is a name given to adding an amendment to a bill that sends some money for one project or another to those on the losing side.

True believers have a hard time compromising or making concessions. In fact, true believers by the very nature of their beliefs see any variance from their core values as error. Error by definition is wrong. Wrong won’t do.

It’s easy to label the sides in today’s battles over issues. A few minutes with a newspaper or with any news and commentary television program will define the sides and provide the standard labeling. Left and Right are the biggies. Then there is a vaguer and more poorly defined group called Moderate or Centrist. When arguments get heated the pejorative labels – Radical Left, Right Wing Christians, Fringe Left, Right Wing Extremists – all get tossed around stirring things up even more. When labels start flying people stop listening. Other labels – Racist, Anti-gay, and Anti-religion – may come out and any semblance of orderly discussion is completely lost. Compromise becomes a faded dream.

True believers feel that they have the right to tell those who are indifferent on an issue, or those who disagree with them on an issue, that they, the true believers, should be the ones to make the rules and policies. Yes they should make the rules and policies and handle the enforcement of those policies. Disagreement should not be tolerated. Those who disagree will be denigrated, ridiculed and sometimes prosecuted for their recalcitrance. And friends, it doesn’t matter which side we look at, the true believers are an intolerant bunch. Or are they?

Can we see any signs in either the Left or Right of more tolerance for disagreement? Or perhaps, just as importantly, can we see any signs of tolerance on either side for indifference to their arguments on issues? After all, in a free country even the indifferent need to be tolerated. Folks on the Left like to think that they’re tolerant. But many of the Left leaning leadership people are quick to label those who disagree with them as ignorant, illogical and just plain wrong. By the same token those who are considered leaders on the Right have little tolerance for their opposites and toss out similar epithets. See what I mean? It’s hard to find a reasoned, reasonable way to discuss the whole problem of conflict over issues. Frankly, I don’t have a solution.

Maybe there shouldn’t be a solution. Maybe the arguments should continue, long and loud. When one side or the other is in a position of power then let them try to champion the side of the issues they believe in. And let their opponents oppose. Bring the arguments to the public. Generate discussions and media coverage. If some of the indifferent are swayed, finally, one way or another then let their voices be heard. That may tip the balance to one side and something will either get done or get set aside. Perhaps we worry too much about the inability of government to do anything. Perhaps that inability is a safety feature that prevents the powerful from exerting too much power over the vast majority of us. Perhaps it is one way of keeping the true believers from trampling the rights of their opposites. And maybe it keeps the true believers from imposing their will on the non-believers.

Well, crap. There wasn’t an insight in all that discussion after all. That’s what happens sometimes when I talk to myself. No progress.

Have a fine day anyway whether you’re a true believer or just an innocent bystander.

HOT NEWS: GREAT MUSIC IS STILL BEING MADE

Today’s mail brought something special. In a plain brown wrapper the Gibson Brothers new CD “They Called it Music” waited for an eager opening and a big loud listening. So I cranked up the volume knob on the player and sat back with a notebook in hand, ready to jot down thoughts as the tracks sailed along. Well, I might as well have been empty handed because I completely forgot about taking notes. These twelve songs had me so wrapped up in listening that writing would have broken the spell.

A track by track analysis isn’t happening here. This album needs to be taken as a whole. Radio DJ’s are going to have a tough time selecting favorite songs to play on their shows. Every tune has something to suggest it as the best of the disc. Traditional Bluegrass folks will have their favorites like “Sundown and Sorrow” or “I’ll Work it Out”. Old time country fans will probably choose “Dying for Someone to Live For” or “The Darker the Night, the Better I See”. People that like a sharper edge to their Bluegrass may prefer “Dusty Old World” or “Buy a Ring, Call the Preacher”. But it’s not that easy to define these songs. They cross lines. They wreck stereotypes. They’re original.

When the Gibson Brothers pick a song from other songwriters they keep open minds. On this CD there are songs from Joe Newberry, Shawn Camp and Loretta Lynn, Adirondack treasures Roy Hurd and Elizabeth Hill, Mark Knopfler and classic country writers J.L. Frank and Pee Wee King. Even that old standby Public Domain (actually Austin Taylor) gets a hearing with “Home on the River” a classic gospel tune. But here’s the thing friends – every composition on this CD becomes a Gibson Brothers song, whether they wrote it or not. They own them all.

Now I need to talk about production values a little bit. This CD sounds amazingly clean and clear. All the band members are perfectly tuned in to the Gibson’s vision of how to present a song. Clayton Campbell is so strong and supportive, Joe Walsh adds that subtle mandolin drive and Mike Barber’s bass is rock solid yet imaginative. Most every track has standout solo work. And the guitar and banjo playing is a treat to hear. But the blending of all these elements makes it seem like the band is sitting in your living room playing a casual private concert. It’s that good.

I’m going to get personal for a minute and mention my favorite song on the album. It’s the last track, “Songbird’s Song”, which touched me in a special way. I’m a poet, or trying to be, and I sometimes read a song with poetry in mind. This simple little piece has really good poetic elements. It is sentimental without being overly sweet. It has a sense of melancholy but remains hopeful. It has a lovely rhythm and rhyme scheme that stands well without musical accompaniment. When this fine poem is set to music, with the gentle harmonies of the “whoo-whoo” added to the mix, it reached this listener’s heart. Deeply.

So buy this CD. I’ve been accused of being a cheerleader for, and “uber-fan” of, the Gibson Brothers. Well that’s true and I’m proud of those appellations. But there’s a reason for my fanaticism – these guys make great music and that’s something that deserves attention.

Now have a fine day.

Bluegrass as Art: "They Called it Music"

This morning on WAMU radio over in Washington a sneak preview of an upcoming CD from my favorite Bluegrass band, the Gibson Brothers, was presented by Katy Daley. I heard six songs, half of the album I think, but that was enough to get me thinking about what a great project this CD has become. Specifically, though I’m sure I’ll ramble off in other directions, these songs caused me to consider Bluegrass music as art.

Hold on now! I know you folks don’t want to read a bunch of high brow crap about artsy-fartsy theories and scholarly opinions. And if you know me you’ll know I’m incapable of that stuff anyway. No, I’m simpler than that and I’m of the “I know art when I see it or hear it” school. To me art - whether it’s a photograph or a painting or a film or a piece of music – will have three qualities. First, good art must make me pause and consider what’s going on in the picture or music. Secondly, there must be some emotional reaction to the art under consideration. And finally, when I walk away from the particular artistic offering I must continue to think about it for some time afterwards, often at unexpected moments. Well this new album from the Gibson Brothers scored very high marks in all three of those categories.

I’m only going to focus on three songs of the six I heard to illustrate what I’m talking about in regards to art. The first song is the title cut, “They Called It Music”. This is a lively, old-time sounding tune about defining how “labeling” enters into the business of music. To me this song is a bridge of sorts between old style Bluegrass and the more contemporary versions we hear today. The band uses a contemporary lyrical structure with several of the conventions of traditional styling and blends them into a perfect definition that supports their title premise. I paused to think after hearing this song, and even while the song was playing. I was emotionally uplifted by the sheer musicality of the piece. And as time moves along, I’ll find myself thinking about this song when I hear other Bluegrass songs or even other genres of music. It’s art.

The second song I’ll mention is “I Will Always Cross Your Mind” which was written by Adirondack singer-songwriter Roy Hurd. Roy is an old friend of the Gibson Brothers and co-wrote with Eric Gibson one of their most popular performance tunes “Callie’s Reel”. This new tune is different in that it is a sweetly lyrical ballad of love and loss. The instrumental work is so fine, particularly Clayton Campbell’s soulful fiddle playing. Again this song blends traditions as it combines an Americana/Folk sound with the unmistakable Bluegrass voice so unique to the Gibsons. After hearing this song I was sent to memories and reveries of the mountains and woods. Though the song is written about the love of a man for a woman it can apply in so many emotional ways to all the kinds of loss we experience as time moves along. And again, this is a song that will stay with you even after a single listening. Art.

Finally, I want to mention “Songbird Song”. This one was written by Eric when the band was touring in Europe last year. His remarks, played by Katy, about the insomnia that led to the inspiration which created the piece were quite touching. And this song is absolutely beautiful. It’s a song about loneliness and it conveys that feeling so deeply. The great Hank Williams tune “I’m So Lonesome I Could Cry” is a classic, of course. But listen to this song and you’ll hear something that could rival that classic in years to come. The high harmonies in a wordless keening are amazing and emphasize the simple elegance of the lyrics. The underlying instrumental work is, again, understated and supportive yet “stand alone” beautiful. Mike Barber’s bass is perfect on this song. And one more time, it is art.

Other songs previewed this morning on Katy’s show were: “Home on the River” “Dying for Someone to Love” and “Buy a Ring, Find a Preacher”. All of these are superb and add great work to the Gibson’s collection of artistic achievement.

In poetry we often talk about attaining an individual “voice”. A poet will work for years learning how to reach the level where his or her “voice” is recognizable and original. I think the same process happens in music. Even in popular music, entertainers strive for a difference in their sound to set them apart from all the derivative stuff that has gone before. In Bluegrass we can almost instantly recognize the sounds of Bill Monroe, Flatt and Scruggs, Doctor Stanley, Mac Wiseman, Del McCoury and on and on. And in the past few years the Gibson Brothers have reached that level of recognizable quality. A Gibson Brothers song can be recognized in just a few notes. This album, this representation of a true artistic evolution, will reinforce an already stellar reputation. “They Called It Music” is coming soon. Music can enrich your life and this album will add to that enrichment.

Now go listen to some good music and have a fine day.

Animals and Us

The last time I wrote one of these little articles I blathered on about giving every single kid in the country two free years of college. It was serious stuff and it caused a few folks to question my reasoning (impeccable as always) and disagree with me in very civil tones. We have some high toned discussions, my readers and me. Since that essay was posted I’ve been casting about for another subject to address. One of my good friends suggested that I write about the move towards legalized, medically sanctioned and assisted murders. But I’m avoiding that one for now because we really shouldn’t even need a discussion on so heinous a subject. So instead of that I’ve decided to really kick up the dust by talking about pets.

First of all let me say that I like animals. Dogs are great. Cats are okay. Little fish swimming around a nice tank are just fine. Caged birds are questionable, as are snakes and other critters that lay around in glass boxes waiting for a handful of crickets or a juicy living mouse. Rodents in cages can be amusing but ever since I had to do some demolition work on a building that had drop ceilings completely infested with mice and rats, I’ve been unable to see those kinds of animals as friends of mankind. (Or womankind either) But, friends and neighbors, the American passion for having pets and treating them like people is, I’m sorry to say, not a healthy trend. But what is even worse is the tendency of folks to acquire animals that they treat worse than animals.

A good dog is a joy to own. They deserve to be treated kindly, fed properly, exercised regularly and appreciated for what they are. But a dog is an animal. The smartest dogs are still incapable of a higher level of thought. But some folks have anthropomorphized dogs to a degree that is actually insulting to the dignity of the canine species. I’m talking about all those silly and sad pictures that get posted on social networking sites by the thousands every single day. The attempts at humor or emotional manipulation done with those photos would be embarrassing to all of those dogs, if they had the ability to get their own page and look at that crap all day long. Of course some folks use human children in the same way. Those kids are destined to need psychological counseling by the time they reach their teens. There are people who take their dogs to doggy psychologists but I’ve never seen any improvement after those treatments. Usually it’s the owners of those poor pups that need the shrinkage.

And cats are used in the same manipulative way. Some poor kitty does something cute, the owner takes a picture adds a clever caption and sends the photo out on FaceBook or some other site. All the cat lovers say “Awwww!” All the folks who are indifferent to feline behavior say “What the hell, another damn cat picture!” Not me of course, I love cats. But I still feel that those cats are abused and maligned by what their owners do with all those unauthorized photos. Actually I guess the authorization is implicit in the fact that the cats are chattel property held by the humans. But I’ve never seen a cat who would accept slavery without a fight. They just ignore those conventions anyway. Cats operate on a different plane of existence from humans. We all know that.

So let’s quit trying to turn cats and dogs into four legged humans. Give them the dignity they deserve. I was talking to some people the other day about reincarnation and we got around to the subject of what we’d like to “come back” as. Not one person wanted to come back as a human. The number one preference was cat, followed closely by dog. A couple of the odder folks in the discussion group selected rocks or trees and such. One fellow wanted to come back as crabgrass because that stuff lives forever no matter what you do to kill it.

Okay. Be nice to animals but remember they are still only animals.

Now have a fine day.

Higher Education 101

Well friends and neighbors I’ve got something to say that will probably irritate a few of you good folks. But after a visit to our local community college today I’ve decided that we’re doing a terrible disservice to a whole lot of people as they move along through the American educational system.

Normally I don’t get near the community college during the so called rush time when students are registering and buying their books and such. But my wife, who runs the college bookstore, needed her lunch so I agreed to drop it off for her. While I was there, near the bookstore sales counter, I saw newly registered students engaged in their transactions. It’s a pitiful sight for so many reasons.

The community college in our state, like those institutions in most states, accepts anyone. By anyone, I mean anyone. And in our state financial aid will be provided to most of those enrollees as long as “need” can be established. And in an even more generous move a graduating high school senior with a 3.0 grade point average can attend the college tuition free under a program called “SEED” which is funded by the state legislature using taxpayer money. But I’m not going to complain about that program because that at least focuses on students who probably can read and write and do simple arithmetic.

The complaint I have, based on observations at the college and comments from educators and employees, is that students are admitted who have absolutely no business being in a college. I saw a student, a fellow in his thirties, who was being escorted through the admissions process by his mother (she was easily sixty years old and also a student) because he could not communicate in any direct way with the staff. He has some sort of mental disability. His mother while registering the guy online had inadvertently selected an advanced English class. When the bookstore clerk asked if the gentleman had the necessary background for an advanced class the mother said “Hell no, he can barely read. I want him in the class that teaches reading.” The bookstore employee suggested that they go see a counselor. An hour or so later they came back to get materials for the remedial reading program.

This is not an isolated example of the kind of student being accepted for what is supposed to be college level study. The idea put forth is that everyone has a right to attend college. Consequently folks who have no chance of completing a successful program of study take up the resources of the school, including financial aid funds, that could be better used elsewhere. What’s more, in the attempt to push these people through school the college must provide tutors, translators and other types of aides so the student has some sort of chance to finish. Most don’t. The on-time graduation rate at this two year institution is 3%. The overall graduation rate is less than 30%. A recent survey rated our community college as having a 29% success rate; success meaning students either finished the two year program in three years or transferred to another college. So our community college, which incidentally has the highest paid president of any community college in the country, would not seem to be the best investment for taxpayers.

When did a college education become an entitlement? Why should a person clearly unfit for higher education be supported in a fruitless endeavor with taxpayer money? Wouldn’t it be better to teach people who obviously are not suitable for college some sort of trade? Perhaps courses could be set up to improve a person’s prospects in the service industries; restaurant cleanliness and safety, money handling and salesmanship are a few possibilities. Aren’t there some real common sense reasons for screening applicants for college courses? These questions are obviously being answered in a different way by folks in the educational system than by those of us without a PhD after our names. Maybe I should go back to school. They take anybody, you know.

Now go learn how to have a fine day.

Christmas 1, Cynic 0

It starts a few days after Labor Day weekend. The stores begin to gradually fill shelves with Christmas stuff. Toy departments start their subtle swelling. Decorations and knick-knacks find their way into the home décor areas. And my level of disdain for marketing types who use Christmas as the ultimate sales tool rises accordingly.

But as the autumn progresses my cynicism abates as I enjoy seasonal changes. Disdain shifts to chores like yard clean-up and firewood preparations. Then Halloween comes along and the marketing efforts associated with Christmas kick into high gear. Decorations are all over the place. Advertisers ram the “beat the holiday rush” message down our throats. Christmas music leaks out of tinny speakers everywhere, from home improvement stores to little lingerie shops. And once again I’m convinced that Christmas is nothing more than a shameless marketing ploy and it has been for a very long time.

As I ponder the phenomenon I see how Christmas selling has intensified as mass marketing has developed over the past fifty or sixty years. Television was the beginning. As TV networks grew so did the Christmas push. Holiday programs were produced and advertisers signed on as sponsors. We all know the shows. The Charlie Brown cartoon, Rudolph and Frosty and the Grinch and on and on began in the Cold War years and have returned every year since. My cynical nature says that these programs are only around to sell the latest toys and games. Whatever message they may hold is superseded by the crap they promote. And really, are those programs any good?

Then along came the internet. And with the internet there arrived a whole new level of mass marketing. Advertising that runs every single time we search for information pops up incessantly. If you’re looking for the symptoms of psoriasis you first must endure an ad for the new Nurse Barbie play set. If you want the latest statistics on sorghum production, you’ll get ads for toy John Deere tractors. But it’s not only there that advertisers make their pitches. Even the so called news media gets involved. Have you noticed how Black Friday sale advertising is “leaked” to the news media? They play along with the game. Stories are planted about anticipated sales, new toys on the market, Hollywood holiday film releases and buying trends. It’s all treated as real news. And it’s all tied to the Christmas season and it’s all selling something.

By Thanksgiving weekend I’m in full cynic mode. I hate the very idea of Christmas. Commercialism has displaced and destroyed whatever inherent good Christmas had in years past. Even philanthropic efforts associated with the season seem to have been hijacked by commercialism. In fact the fund raising outfits are often raking off more of the donations for administrative costs and advertising than they are giving to their cause. It’s only more food to fuel the cynical fires.

But then about two weeks before the big day I talk to my grandkids. I see the excitement in them as we decorate the house and set up the Nativity display. We talk about the animals and the Wise Men and, yes, even Jesus. We talk about gifts and traditions and how so many non-Christian ideas have been assimilated into our overall Christmas heritage. Later I hear some folks from the local Mennonite Community singing carols in the mall. Then one afternoon as I’m walking near the library a homeless guy sitting on a bench tells a passing mother with an infant in a stroller that she has a beautiful child and he adds “Please, please love your children and Merry Christmas to you.” He wasn’t looking for a handout, he was saying something important.

So my cynicism slackens. In fact it fades away almost completely. I still get irritated with the commercial push. But I see that the message is still alive. The pure love of children for parents and parents for children is one sign. The kindnesses that are done without expectation of reward are another sign. The welling up of human decency is still another. Even when the most evil things occur there is a rising of immense goodness that inexorably follows. It happens over and over again.

Once again Christmas has beaten the cynic. And that’s a good thing.  Merry Christmas to all of you good people.

Now go on and have a fine New Year.

Poet in Paradise: Impressions of A Writers" Conference - Conclusion

After a restless night worried about my poetry reading I was up and about by six in the morning. This was to be the day, finally, when the poets would take center stage at the Faulkner conference. I wanted to make a good impression so I put on my best jeans and a clean shirt. Then I got all my luggage ready for my trip home just in case the conference organizers wanted to run me out of town after my reading. I even checked out of the hotel before the day’s programs so I could make a rapid escape.

The day opened with the usual breakfast spread of croissants, fruit and so forth. Since I was so nervous I had skipped the free morning meal at my cheap hotel. But I couldn’t pass up those fresh, warm croissants. The first speaker on the agenda was a young author who talked about an early twentieth century writer named Zweig who killed himself after a successful career. It wasn’t exactly an uplifting topic but it was interesting.

Next was an author who has written a book that posits that there is an ongoing World War in which the principal combatants are China and the rest of us. The book is “World War C” and the author was funny and extremely interesting in spite of his disturbing premise. He was followed by a Norwegian poet lady who had a near death experience a few years back and who has been “channeling” poems from a spirit guide since that time. The segue from world war to spirit world poetry was a little jarring but not unusual for this conference. I only wish the poetry coming out of that spirit world was of higher quality and not so close to the world of Hallmark.

We moved deeper into real world poetry with the presentation of a paper about W. B. Yeats, one of my all time favorite Irish guys. The young PHD delivering this paper was really good and very knowledgeable about her subject. I wished that she could have gone on longer, not because there was so much more to say, but because we were getting closer and closer to the time that I’d have to stand up in front of this audience.

After a brief intermission the next panel discussion began. On the panel were three highly regarded poets, all members of the academic world, all widely published and all quite capable of ripping my work to shreds. Before the discussion started the runners-up in the poetry competition were asked to sit up front so that we could take part more fully in the proceedings. My days as an edge of the room lurker were ending. The two other runner-up poets, a woman from Maryland and a younger woman from South Carolina, seemed as nervous as I was. The discussion commenced. The subject was “Poetry as an Avenue to the Soul”. Holy cow! Deep philosophical discussions combined with poetry are a real opportunity to sound like an idiot. I resolved to keep quiet. But I shouldn’t have worried. The poets on the panel took the whole thing pretty lightly, made some very fine observations and then read some of their own work. The winner of the competition was on the panel and he did a really fine reading of three of his poems. The other two poets were equally erudite and skilled at reading their stuff. And then they were done. The first runner up, the woman from Maryland, was called to the podium. She was shaking with nervousness but she did just fine. Then it was the other young lady’s turn (ladies first) and she too was very nervous but did a really nice job. Now it was up to me.

I got up to the podium and looked around. Seated to my right and left were three poets who have all seen their work in books, anthologies, magazines (yes even the New Yorker) and broadcast on NPR. In front of me sat academics, authors, editors and a few students. So I made a little joke about how losers in New Orleans were treated much better than losers up here in the northeastern states. The people laughed and that was helpful. I started my poem and in a couple minutes I was done. There was enthusiastic applause. I floated back to my chair and collapsed in relief.

Only one more ordeal remained and that was a meeting with the contest winner and one of the other poets for a critique of my work and some advice about getting published. This meeting was in a private room and people say things in private that they may be too kind to say in public. But it turned out that these people were kind, even in a private setting. Some questions about my techniques and structures were asked which I defended pretty well. Then we had a lively discussion about publishing where I learned that I’m doing what the other guys have all done. Write stuff, enter contests, send work out to magazines and journals and watch the rejections pile up. Don’t expect to make money with poetry but do the best work possible and have a good time doing it. I was happy with that.

Now it was time to head home. I went back to my cheap hotel and waited for the airport shuttle bus. As I was sitting there I began to write, mentally, a new poem and the little articles that I’d put on my blog. The trip home wasn’t too harrowing. There was one problem with a broken airplane in Charlotte but even that didn’t dispel my good mood. My lovely wife eventually found me at the Baltimore airport and we made it home around two o’clock Monday morning. It was a fine and fabulous trip which I’m so glad I could make. My dear wife made it possible and I thank her so much.

Now, ya’ll go have a fine day.