Wednesday, September 17, 2025

Socialism - Works for Some Well Doing Countries?

Socialism - Works for Some Well Doing Countries?

    When I think of socialism in modern, well off nations, I think of France and perhaps some Nordic nations, like Sweden or Norway, maybe. I need to do some more investigating.

    The United States has some, but it has been frowned on over the generations.

Monday, September 15, 2025

Charlie Kirk, September 2025

 Charlie Kirk, September 2025

    This September we Americans entered a new chapter in our history, provoked by an assassin's bullet, which struck the neck of the very popular pundit, political commentator and activist, born in 1993. I must say that assassinations of key leaders and figures mark periods in our collective histories. I did not know that much about Charlie prior to this event. I know I had seen him speak, and listened to his views at the Republican National Convention and Fox News, of which my family members can attest that I watch regularly. I am a Republican, but consider myself moderate. Some Republicans are too extreme for me. Extremism in any form is usually wrong.

    That said, whatever stripe or angle we consider ourselves, we do not stamp out the right to free speech, even if it is considered borderline hate speech; we do not condone or allow actions with violence, and certainly not murder. It is inexcusable that Robinson or any other person would lash out and take the life of Charlie Kirk. Many people loved Charlie, and a large number of people disliked him, considering his arguments as threatening, like pro-gun rights or stopping abortion, even if it is at the cost of the life of the mother. (I do not know that stance for sure, just putting in an example of a slippery argument attributed to the right wing.)

    Famous assassinations go back in time for millennia, past Caesar over two thousand years ago and on and on back. We look at the modern days, of Martin Luther King, Jr, and Robert Kennedy, of the Gandhis in India, of the attempts on Reagan and the Pope in my younger years in the 1980s. John Lennon, and sometimes random killings of those that are famous.

    Kirk has, or had until the last moment of his life, a large audience, which was part of the zeitgeist and genius of his movement. Big attention, large audiences slewing rhetoric and debates. It may be alive more than ever since his death, posthumously. He started it young and it was going very strong. I was aware of some other conservative voices and speakers more than him, but maybe he was the biggest one? It seems like it now. He may have been, or likely was in retrospect for me, the largest conservative voice among youth in the country.

    Things to think about. We will track back to this later.

Friday, September 12, 2025

May God Supply

 May God Supply

    Could be sung to a catchy or poignant tune, as a song. Tender, if you will. Inspirational, like a lot of religious music. Think Lauren Daigle. Sure. Could be sung by Jason Mraz, or Steven Sanchez, or perhaps the best lower voice, or high, of Hozier. 

    If I cannot be the friend that you need me to be

    May God supply you

    If I cannot be the one that thrills you

    May God uphold and keep you

    
    If I am not the one that greets you

    May God embrace you

    If I am not the man to hold you

    May God enfold you


    We love Him

    He loved us first!

    We serve Him

    He blesses us


    Our God supplies

    The Father provides

    He smiles on us

    He gives us life


    He gave me you

    He let me have you

    He allowed us life

    Sustenance and protection


    Our God supplied

    He doth provide

    He lives inside


   Within you and me


    May God supply you

    All the joy you need!

    May God impart

    All the peace and love


    All the peace and love.


    May you be whole and true.

    I will always love you.

    I will not forsake you.

    Your Father and me.



Thursday, September 11, 2025

Finland: Land of Frozen Giants, Epic Tales, and Warm Saunas

Finland: Land of Frozen Giants, Epic Tales, and Warm Saunas

    I like to write about many things, so why not Finland? Should I start with my first impressions, or my latest thoughts, or a combination of all those things? Yes.
    Linguistically, this country is a pickle. The language is unlike most any other on the planet. I do not think that it falls under the Indo-European language group, like the grand majority of the European nations, which went on to colonize and populate the known world. Russian and Slavic languages are Indo-European, as are Germanic and Romance languages, which are spoken all over the globe. Estonian is close to Finnish they say, which is in the language group of: Finno-Ugric, which falls under the Uralic family, which has a few more languages in the family in parts of Russia. Like, Bjarmian, Ingrian, Karelian, Kukkuzi, Livonian, Livvi, Ludic, Veps, and Votic.

    However, as Wikipedia notes:

    The smaller languages are endangered. The last native speaker of Livonian died in 2013, and only about a dozen native speakers of Votic remain. Regardless, even for these languages, the shaping of a standard language and education in it continues.

         Finnish is the big one of the Uralic tongues, after Hungarian (Magyar), which is in the Ugric family of Uralic. The people, by most reports, are some of the happiest on earth? Why? How come the people of this northern, isolated nation are the happiest?

    Happiness

    I have a few ideas, as do many social scientists, economists, and some other so-called experts of why Finnish people are happy, what makes them happy. They have what they want: jobs, health, vacations, travel, peace, security. More than perhaps any other country in the world, the Finns are enjoying these things.

    Not bad, huh?

    In college I talked to people who were Finnish or those who lived there, and saunas play a big part of the lifestyle. These are intimate areas where apparently the folks do not wear much apparel, and they dip into freezing cold water or snow in between the hot, steamy airs. This sounds titillating or embarrassing to many of us Americans, but I guess part of the Finnish culture is to accept these periods of nudity. Missionaries from our church, as I have heard, keep the sessions between the same sex, as to avoid improprieties of protocol and modesty.

    Each country and culture with its mores and values, their images and self-awareness, sensitivities and concerns. Reminds me of Japan. Strong and independent in their own ways. A boon to the human race in so many senses.

    Strength and Power, Grace

    Some of my earliest impressions of Finland were in the Winter Olympics, where their male hockey teams were very competitive, going toe to toe with the giants like the Soviet Union or Canada. Finns were from a small, far flung country, but they were tough and strong! They were free, independent, and fearless, it seemed. They did not need the North Atlantic Treaty Organization, for decades, not too worried about the vaunted Soviets across their multi-hundred kilometer shared border. Hammer and Sickle? Intercontinental ballistic missiles? Nukes? Whatever, these Finns implied in their fierce solidarity among themselves and the Swedes in contra to the massive and foreboding U.S.S.R.

    Only in the current climate of Putin in Ukraine since 2022 has Finland and Sweden seen the light of the North Atlantic alliance with their neighbors and the U.S. and Canada. We welcome the folks of both Scandinavian countries wholeheartedly. Putin cannot last forever. Russia will become what it is, while the rest of the democratic and sensible world. Russia, alas... But this is about their smaller neighbor!

    I saw pictures of the Finns fighting the Germans in World War II. They were stalwart and intrepid, looking like the biathletes on skis with the rifles slung on their backs.

    Finns were pretty cool. Fighting off the Nazis, then later the Communist comrades. They spoke funny words, but they seemed to be programmed right!

    I met some Finns and became acquainted with their character while working overseas. They were military men. One seemed more laconic and subdued, which seemed to be a national reputation or attribute of these folks, while the other one, who was taller and more slender, was more jovial and garrulous. I thought it was nice to have the contrast of styles between them. The shorter, stockier Finn could leave you guessing by his lack of words or emotions. A bit like Spock from Star Trek.

    I met a Finnish Latter-Day Saint young woman in 1998 in the San Francisco area. She had come to the United States to be an au pair, and she happened to come close to where my friend Jorge was living and studying. Jorge had gone to Scandinavia to travel and find a wife. He met her by asking for a suitable mate from a Church of Jesus Christ General Authority at the Swedish Temple in Stockholm. He indicated the Finnish sister was a good reference. Apparently so: I watched Jorge propose on bended knew to her at the Oakland Temple visitor center. Mexican-American Finns, I suppose they would end up having. I should look them up!

    Logos and Mythos

This summer I checked out some books about the relationship between some of my favorite authors, C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien. The reading and notes have been supremely insightful. Both of them have had great imaginative impacts on the world, and certainly me. While I read the more child palatable Narnia series more and more repetitively than Tolkien, who put some serious spookiness in my soul with the sequel to The Hobbit, both series of fiction have had big influences on me, even in the last five years, with the Rings of Power being drawn from Tolkien's original stories from the Silmarillion. 

    These have been well cast, scripted, and crafted television streaming epics. The Peter Jackson films were done wonderfully as well early in the century.

    Well, it turns out there is a Finland connection! Yes, truly. 

    Tolkien was a keen study of languages, and myths, was interested in northern tales and lore, and came upon the Finnish epic which I did not hear much about in my life compared to Norse mythology.  Tolkien and his friends and colleagues were erudite polyglots, with amazing powers of creation, or imagination. For him, this Finnish work of fiction and lore had a great impact and place, infusing his mind and soul with ideas and content that he would eventually manifest in his new myths of Middle Earth. He studied and analyzed the story, or stories of the ancient Finns, which inspired him to get more into "faerie", which is the imaginative and fictitious realm of old and new fables and stories, from which people find pleasure, delight, escape, freedom, hope, and many good things, despite the claims or accusations of many that the worlds of make-believe have little or no pertinent purpose in the world of reality.

    Real or not, these stories affect many of us and drive into our consciousness or sub-consciousness, taking up space in the real minds and feelings of millions of us. Individually or collectively, therefore, ancient lore and art of the Finns had their profound effect on J.R.R. Tolkien, who with his Inkling friends like Lewis, Williams, Barfield, and host of keen and prodigious others, co-inspired and directed each others' works and developments to become and produce what they did. None are bigger in their total effect and influence than Tolkien, one could reasonably argue. I will and do.

    The history and tales of the Finns have had large and small psychological and nuanced impressions on us all! The Hobbit, the Lord of the Rings, the Silmarillion evinced in the Rings of Power. Galadriel and Sauron from the ancient depths of northern, Finnish lore.

    Finns and Finnish. I have done some mind searching, across the decades. They have had their place in music, sport, science I am sure. Politics. The Helsinki Accords, the fuse lifter to the awful, ominous, Cold War of the late 20th century. Finns are part and parcel of the peace  process of the earth, naturally? Why? Because they are smart, and happy, and with it. 

    Is this not true? Did Tolkien have any idea of their presence on the world stage, then in millennia past or how they would figure into the future? Little hyper-active Finland? Among the last two nations to join NATO, the Swedes and they bolstering efforts to ensure no further Russian aggression would push into sovereign lands? 

    Do the stories of Middle Earth verisimulate (I guess I made that word up) or parallel events in today's world? Drone and missile attacks in Ukraine? Devastation and starvation in Gaza Strip? Internecine warfare and gang and terrorist violence across Africa? Drug and illegal production and marketing in Latin America?

    Ahh, what the Finnish might teach us! Should we learn from them? Tolkien did.

     Other Linguistic Musings

    I was in a cafeteria overseas with over a dozen different nationalities, 13 years ago. I would see my Finnish buddies mentioned above, and a few others from their homeland, wearing their flag. In this very multilingual and international milieu, I approached a Finnish man and asked him how to wish someone "bon appetit" or "enjoy your meal", a phrase many of the Europeans thought was the traditional way for us to express good health to each other, like the French term, a courteous way to let other people know that we care about their well being and how they engage the sustenance of life.

    The Finn told me a string of syllables and pronounced sounds that were a mouthful and long, complicated enough to struggle to repeat it. I tried, maybe got a little of it right, but realized, as the reputation of Finnish is, that this language is another type of beast.

    Not all languages are built the same.

    And perhaps when it comes to the strangeness and difficulty of Finnish, as Tolkien intuited a hundred years ago, conjuring up his Elven faerie languages and cultures, histories and mythologies, synthesized and culminated in his fictions now ubiquitous and everlasting.

    What more tales and epics will be written and spoken and played out in the world of the 21st century, between the Finns of the north and the rest of us? The intrepid souls of the biathlon and the sports courts and tracks, libraries and science centers and hospital, political diplomatic lecterns and daises, cyber classes or codes and digital wisdom of our modern age?

    Who else will derive wisdom and Godly joy from these lands, these lakes, these icy wastes and warm spas, the seas of the Baltic all the way up to the Arctic, from these stoic and at times laconic yet kind and courageous people? From north to south, we respect and honor the good Finnish people. We respect and honor the fact that a land can be free and prosperous, strong and inspiring, and that they through economic and intellectual prowess and ingenuity are who they are for us, a jewel sitting upon our earth, a light to others, that with God and us His children, all of the children of the earth, along with flora and fauna, God's vast creations, may live up to its eternal destiny.

    Life and love. Long live Finland and God's peoples everywhere!


Tuesday, September 9, 2025

Life and Death: Meaningful and Sweet

 Life and Death: Meaningful and Sweet

    Today while listening and contemplating during the hours I spent at my local church, or the chapel edifice where quite a few hundred of us congregated at our special six month or semi-annual meeting, which we peculiar people call Stake Conference, I was thinking about death on a few different levels, or in a few different angles or lights.

    They will be the following four references, for the purposes of this discussion: 

    1. The death of Jesus
    2. The deaths portrayed in film and art
    3. The deaths of those that we know personally
    4. The death of someone close to us, in person, in the time they expire

    Do we find beauty, grace, sublimity, value, meaning, goodness, or negative factors, in any of above? I do. I will explain. Life and death are partners, and as such, the dance between them is one eternal round of opening, dancing, and closing.

    First, the Death of Our Savior Jesus Christ. We Christians continually and consistently commemorate and memorialize, laud and recount His death, which is symbolic of what is to come, the greater goods of physical resurrection and the triumph of purity and cleanliness over sin and wretched filth. Death in Jesus is life eternal, the ultimate pay off for this life as we know it, according to Christian theology or doctrine. Death is requisite for Life Everlasting. The biggest dance that we know: God and existence, all of it. The totality of all creation.

    Second, the deaths that we see portrayed in film, or in art like paintings or nursery rhymes and books and stories. There are heroic and tragic deaths: some are gory or very traumatic. Some deaths are understated, or glossed over. There are the anonymous deaths, the ones that transpire without much acclaim or fuss. Sometimes soldiers or fighters are wiped out in fell swoops, while other victims are innocents that disappear from the realm of living without any identity or attribution. Anonymous, forgotten as living or dead, on screen or pictured or not. Some deaths are drawn out and poignant. The main characters, or side characters, may suffer from a terrible wound, or a long-standing illness, and he or she themself, or the others suffer and live till their last moment, which leaves us the viewer or the reader verklempt, caught up, engaged, living and processing as they die.

    Death be not proud. Whatever that means. I am not sure.

    Art in all its forms can bespeak and message the meanings, the beauties, the pathos and the drama of death in all its ways. From the Greeks to Shakespeare to George Lucas or Quentin Tarantino, Ernest Hemingway to Salmon Rushdie to Toni Morrison to a million other raconteurs, we look at, peruse, feel and process the passing of life in ourselves and others. Through art, a vicarious yet often emotional or cathartic exercise, for us the viewers and participants who go along with the creators vision of life and death.

    More of the eternal dance, personified in animals, like Charlotte's Web, or heroes, or their opponents the villains, who may  and all the dying ones in between. The aged, the infirmed, the young or snake-bit, at times literally. So many deaths in film and art! It helps us deal with the real thing, right?

    Then there is the real thing, the deaths happen in our personal lives. Grandparents, other family, friends or colleagues, and even closer relations die and go away. We can be thousands of miles away from where it occurred, but we feel the pain and the loss, sometimes forever. We may never get over it, as they say, the loss and death of a person near and dear to us. Some celebrities' passings can also affect us. Some of those artists or famous ones we become attached to emotionally, intellectually, artistically, so their loss can be very personal without a reciprocal association or kinship to us.

    If a baby dies, or a person dies suddenly from a car accident, or from so many unexpected means that delivers the final breathe to a person, to include wars or violent crimes, most of us do not see and feel those events up close. But some of us are closer to those that pass than others, which brings to my mind and soul a more meaningful and sweet experience with the death process, the transition of the soul to the next place.

    Real time spirit gone away, the life force has moved on.

    I was close to my mom when her spirit finally left her body. She was holding on the last few days, after a year and half of fighting the terminal liver disease. I have written about losing her before, about memories of her and her meaning.

    I was overseas, working on a base with military around 2021, some seven years after the passing of my mother. I was recounting my experience of my mother's physical death with another man, slightly older than me, me in the young fifties, he a slight be tougher, crustier guy. But friendly, for sure.

    We had both seen our mothers pass. My story touched him, as we ate a lunch together. I could tell. As I explained the details, which for me, a son, were sweet, perhaps it reached the sublime in the feelings it evoked. I told him this story in a busy lunch hall we call a DFAC, short for Dining Facility. We sat across from each other nearer the end, where members of our faith tended to congregate when we did eat together. It was likely a sunny and pleasant day (actually!) in Kuwait. Maybe November, or January. Perhaps a mild 80 or degrees outside. I cannot recall my exact words, so here I pose it retrospectively.

    It was the first week of March. Snowy in Indiana that year. The Sunday that she went to hospice was dark and grey with snowflakes. Tuesday came with some sun, but it was cold. I went to the Indianapolis Airport to pick up her dearest life-long friend and sister, and her only brother Bill, with his wife Anne. I took them the hour back to meet mom at her death bed. They all bade her solemn and kind farewells. It worked out well.

    Tuesday afternoon, getting dark, I took them back to my mom's house where they would stay. I was inside my mom's house, the one she had lived in married since I was in high school, minus the church missions in southeast Asia. Since 1986, now 28 years later a familiar abode. I received the call on my cell phone. It had to be Terry, my step-father, but perhaps it was my sister who was there, too.

    She had passed. We all got in my car again and returned to the hospice, to her room. Her body lay there lifeless, but I went and kissed her face. I cried hard. I think I uttered audibly "I love you, Mom!" Then I did something less usual. I felt the warmth in her body; I uncovered her feet and cried over them, sobbing and holding her feet. Still warm with her life now gone.

    The tough guy soldier listened to this and I could see some tears welling up in his eyes. Yes, this is the love of a son for his mother, I say.

    Weird, strange, odd? Maybe, to an outsider. That was my last farewell, my final touch of her mortal remains. She had given me many foot massages over the years, probably more as an adult. She believed in and learned and practiced reflexology, which posits that the foot has corresponding parts of our body that can be accessed to heal us and make us whole. She had done that to me when in my teens maybe, certainly in my twenties. Had she done it for me in my thirties or forties? I cannot remember. But all the times were sweet, comforting, loving. My mother made me feel loved and whole.

    Christ washed his disciples feet, with his hands in a ritualistic act of love. Women washed the Savior's feet, with their tears? Behold, thy mother! Yes, I held her 73 year-old feet, worn, tired, old. But fresh and clean. Now to be buried with the rest of her. Till the day she would stand again at the Resurrection. 

    And me with her! We should all be with our mothers and Jesus. Yes.

    I did not say all of these things, nor think them, at the cafeteria table, but I say and think them now.

    And thus I declare: Life and Death is Meaningful and Sweet.

    Yes, the whole thing. 

    From one to four, wherever we fit. May we all see it, approach it, embrace it. 

    Life. And that what comes.
    

Frankl's Search for Meaning - A Whale of a Tail

 Frankl's Search for Meaning - A Whale of a Tail

    Most psychoanalysts and psychotherapists are pretty good. They help us heal, or deal and cope with mental and emotional issues that can pester or plague us.

    Reading this book, "Man's Search for Meaning", has been good for me. It has been good for millions of others, including my daughter, who recommended that I read it. Finally. I first would hear about it in talks at church growing up, perhaps referred to over the pulpit dozens of times over the years and decades. Maybe Oprah on TV and others have praised it as well. Movies, speakers, radio folks... Perhaps.

    This book, this man, this thinker, this survivor, is well worth listening to. Ponder and follow his advice, his counsel and therapy. His words are edifying, and MEANINGFUL.

    I could say more.

    I will hold off now. I wish to see references to him in LDS (Church of Jesus Christ) General Conference talks.

    Peace, and RIP Mr. Frankl.

People in Uniform are Supposed to Help

 People in Uniform are Supposed to Help

    This thought occurred to me a few days ago. Or a week ago, same difference. There are complaints about some who wear various uniforms, be they police or military, doctors or nurses. All types of uniforms.

    A friend and client, if you will, used to come to our old house, on our smaller cul-de-sac not too far away, and pick up his son; sometimes I saw him wearing a collar shirt with his company logo on it. A uniform, conveying the message of his company and business, yes?

    Now we have all types of delivery service folks, starting with the U.S. postal service, to UPS (United Parcel Service), to Amazon Prime, which delivered a healing device to our home the other day, to others... FedEx, sure. A multiplicity of others. All competing for that business. In uniform.

    There are public servants in uniform, but there are privateers as well. The privateers of yesteryear are no longer called so. When did that go out of style? Now, do we call them contractors? Or sub-contractor? Almost like the guy who gets on a fishing vessel for the summer in Alaska? Is that the modern day privateer?

    Commercial fisherman where a sort of uniform, but perhaps not as rigidly uniform as other companies and organizations. It depends, I suppose, on the vision and protocols of the group. Some commercial fleets likely have their sailors and boat crews wear uniforms..

    How many people work on the seas?

    How many, or what percentage, wear uniforms? 

    And, what of these police that roam our streets and by ways? And what of the National Guard soldiers, now walking and talking in the streets of our capital, who look to go into the dangerous parts of Chicago, where murder is a norm, even to a bigger degree than D.C.?

    How do uniforms affect society? They should help, yes? Of course.

    The Israeli Defense Forces of the Holy Land are not helpful to many Palestinians. Of which, not just non-uniformed militants of Hamas, but nurses and doctors and emergency response workers who normally wear uniforms, even dozens upon dozens of journalists, who likely have a type of clothed or gear uniformity, are being killed by the other side.

    People in uniform kill other people in uniform. That is called war, typically. Like Russia and Ukraine. But plenty of civilians are dying too, which is sometimes an accident, and sometimes shamefully purposeful.

    And on that note, there are violent protests in Nepal because some videos were seen of some of them living opulently, so the normal poor folk went out to demand their taxes back.

    The uniforms versus the non-uniforms.

    Who is wrong and right?

    We cannot always say.

A Million Coal Miners Died for You and Me

 A Million Coal Miners Died for You and Me

    They worked the black seam, together, as Sting sang in his first solo album.

    Some might say they were working for their own self interest, for their own selfish desires of putting food on their plates. But in the bigger sense, they were mining the black pits and holes of England or elsewhere for energy that pushed and built up the infrastructure of our world, from London to Surrey (wherever that is), to Brighton, the beach where my son was watching feats of parkour type display, to Birmingham and Leeds and other industrial spots and centers, over to the Low Countries where the Dutch and the Belge (sp.?) made their iron works and smelted fires, to help build up the earth through ships and machines and edifices, surely.

    All of the ants of the earth, from the United States to Brazil to Russia and Japan, sacrificed their lungs and souls to extract this pollutable (not a word, but should be) rock, possibly bituminous, to feed the engines of our planet to get where we are today.

    My UCLA professor Bell wondered how much of the wealth of Britain came from the back sweat (my word) of the Latinos and Caribbean  peoples over the centuries. Yeah, sure.

    "Your economic theories make no sense." Quotes Sting. Gordan Sumner, is that his real name?

    What is your real name? It is real, surely.

    Like the words I type now.

    I type, virtually.

    So, what of those coal miners. (?) Some lived to be old. Others died prematurely. They all worked for the greater good. Do we believe that, from Adam Smith to Karl Marx?

    Discuss.

    "Power was to become cheap and clean." Goes the song.

    We all pay today, everyday. More and more energy and power. Some of us profit from it. We gas up our vehicles, we run all the devices and motors in our homes, such as air for the outside and the coolers of the refrigerators. The ovens, both convection and microwave. I used my printer a few times yesterday. The tone ink is getting low, it says.

    Thanks, coal miners. For finding and moving the energy towards us. The consumers.

    We, the ones living cancer-free in 2025, basking in electricity that comes from our wall sockets, as the car powered by a chord I saw under the late summer moon last night, walking with my wife in the cool suburban streets.

    Less fossil, more clean.

    As I play another round of chess with a random player from... Ghana.

    All this energy. Millions had to suffer and die, (okay, they did not have to, but it happened), to get to where we are today.

    So, thank you coal workers. All energy workers, everywhere. The engineers, the scientists, the laborers.

    We all have amounted to something.

    Do  you think?

    

Wednesday, September 3, 2025

It Happened Before

 It Happened Before

    Just because something has happened before, does it make it more likely to happen again?

    Falling in love, falling out. It can happen once. Or twice.

    It can happen again.

    We are merely mortal and human.

    When I was 22. When I was 25. 

    Not great feelings. 28 was different, the feelings were different.

    
    Who are we, in the end? Do we learn, do we grow?  We must.

    We must.

What to Do?

 What to Do?

    What to do
    
    What to say

    What to think

    What to pray

    
    How we think

    What we say

    How we dance

    How we pray


    How did I find you?

    How did I whoo you?

    How did I lose you?

    How can I win you?


    Have I lost?

    Are we adrift?

    What have I done?

    What have I missed?


    Alas. I must continue to seek you.

    Love.

Tuesday, September 2, 2025

Another Song About You

 Another Song About You

    I heard so many of those songs all my life

    I did not memorize many

    But the themes and the tunes became part of my heart

    My soul

    I knew some people, here and there, from far and wide.

    Years of knowing, smiling, sharing, imparting, 


    Then, I met you.

    Did I know at that time that all the songs had you in it?

    How was I to know?

    The ecstatic love, the bluesy days, and the long lonely nights?

    The jealous lover, the rejected pretender, the down on his luck anti-hero?

    The rager, the rocker, the notes taker,

    The monster, the rake, the heart breaker.


    All of them you.

    With me.

    Or without me.


    Like Bono sings with U2.

    Or Carly Simon, or James Taylor, or Cat Stephens.

    Billy Joel and Elton John.

    The illustrious Beatles.


    Prince, Michael Jackson, the Marvelous Mighty Supremes.

    Every genre, even the classical and baroque.

    
    I cannot escape it.

    I suffer from accumulation disease.

    The experiences and memories pile up

    The good and the bad

    The ridiculous and sublime

    The awful and awesome

    The sweet and the sour

    Those crazy tunes we heard once

    The favorite ballad we heard hundreds of times


    The Piano Man

    And on

    The raps (okay, not a ton of them), the country twangs and longings,

    The romantic Latin love songs

    All the time-worn rock ballads

    Folk song nostalgia 

    Since there was you...

    Here is another.

    Like the one you dedicated to me after I returned

    From the war zone.

    All our kids in tow.

    That song was you.


    Perhaps some people disassociate all the music that they know from the people that they have known.

    I cannot.

    They are inextricably, irrevocably, unabashedly intertwined.


    The music is you.