The piece I wrote yesterday failed the 2nd reading test. It wasn’t bad writing, just more ruminating on the human condition and I’ve about worn that out. But I had a deja vu kind of thing (all over again) yesterday. I had spoken with my daughter in law and that almost always includes a musical play list. In the pandemic I don’t listen to the radio much, if it’s not the virus it’s the president; how is that for a choice. Neither have I programmed my smart phone to be my disc jockey. But she reminded me how good music can lift your spirits and I needed the reminder. So I went to my I-Tunes library and selected a Beth Hart album. That started an unpredictably random sequence of connecting the dots. It leapfrogged from the Beth Hart album to her performance at the 2012 Kennedy Center Awards, honoring Buddy Guy. From there we went ahead to the 2013 Awards, where Buddy Guy performed to honor Carlos Santana.
I decided to watch the entire Santana tribute. The host was none other than Harry Belafonte, Jamaican born King of Calypso in the 1950’s & 60’s. His introduction began with a story, an outrageous fiction about the dangers of allowing immigrants into the U.S.A. Belafonte, an immigrant himself, alluded to when his career was struggling in the 60’s, that he needed a break through and sought an invitation to an outdoor concert in New York called Woodstock. But his slot was snatched up by a young guitar phenom from Tijuana, Mexico named Carlos Santana. With an absurd twist of logic, it raised the idea that Latino immigrants were taking jobs away from Caribbean born Americans. The audience went wild with laughter. The humor was so transparent, so absurd; what can I say!
That was seven years ago. In the meantime, America has made a troubling shift away from a culture of acceptance and inclusion. In its place we have thrown out the baby with the bathwater. The ‘Me First-America First’ agenda has been legitimized by the President, whose character shortfalls personify what I was taught to detest. They may feed the super ego but I don’t want that karma coming back on me. That, I'm told, is what tycoons do. I have nothing good to say about him but my opinion and two dollars can get you a cup of coffee in most places.
Needless to say, the Harry Belafonte humor may have lost its way but the music is timeless. In his second career, Santana has modeled the hero’s mythical journey to perfection. The young warrior sets out to prove himself, he struggles, endures, maybe even prevails. Then comes a conversion, he returns a changed man. What he has to share is his trove of experience rather than the point of his sword. It speaks to the classic hero Santana has become. In comparison, DT can’t compare.
I’m old enough, it takes a while for my flashbacks to unfold. It was 1970, Simon & Garfunkel’s ‘The Boxer’; a song about struggle and falling down, about the getting up. I liked it straight out the first time. Before it had finished I wanted to hear it again. Yet, the only line I could remember was, “Still a man hears what he wants to hear and disregards the rest.” That was enough. I may need someone to point out my errors when it’s me, hearing what I want to hear and disregarding the rest. I’m human and that’s what we do. But I would have it that my errors fall in the Golden Rule’s shadow. We are social creatures after all, we’re all in this together, we need each other. Still, any successful, self serving hypocrite can distort the Golden Rule into an unscrupulous, Me-First scheme. Don’t let me go there.
I decided to watch the entire Santana tribute. The host was none other than Harry Belafonte, Jamaican born King of Calypso in the 1950’s & 60’s. His introduction began with a story, an outrageous fiction about the dangers of allowing immigrants into the U.S.A. Belafonte, an immigrant himself, alluded to when his career was struggling in the 60’s, that he needed a break through and sought an invitation to an outdoor concert in New York called Woodstock. But his slot was snatched up by a young guitar phenom from Tijuana, Mexico named Carlos Santana. With an absurd twist of logic, it raised the idea that Latino immigrants were taking jobs away from Caribbean born Americans. The audience went wild with laughter. The humor was so transparent, so absurd; what can I say!
That was seven years ago. In the meantime, America has made a troubling shift away from a culture of acceptance and inclusion. In its place we have thrown out the baby with the bathwater. The ‘Me First-America First’ agenda has been legitimized by the President, whose character shortfalls personify what I was taught to detest. They may feed the super ego but I don’t want that karma coming back on me. That, I'm told, is what tycoons do. I have nothing good to say about him but my opinion and two dollars can get you a cup of coffee in most places.
Needless to say, the Harry Belafonte humor may have lost its way but the music is timeless. In his second career, Santana has modeled the hero’s mythical journey to perfection. The young warrior sets out to prove himself, he struggles, endures, maybe even prevails. Then comes a conversion, he returns a changed man. What he has to share is his trove of experience rather than the point of his sword. It speaks to the classic hero Santana has become. In comparison, DT can’t compare.
I’m old enough, it takes a while for my flashbacks to unfold. It was 1970, Simon & Garfunkel’s ‘The Boxer’; a song about struggle and falling down, about the getting up. I liked it straight out the first time. Before it had finished I wanted to hear it again. Yet, the only line I could remember was, “Still a man hears what he wants to hear and disregards the rest.” That was enough. I may need someone to point out my errors when it’s me, hearing what I want to hear and disregarding the rest. I’m human and that’s what we do. But I would have it that my errors fall in the Golden Rule’s shadow. We are social creatures after all, we’re all in this together, we need each other. Still, any successful, self serving hypocrite can distort the Golden Rule into an unscrupulous, Me-First scheme. Don’t let me go there.
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