Three Women (Carrie Newcomer)

How amazing to think I've been back almost three weeks... and haven't posted in almost two weeks - overwhelmed and sensory-overloaded and crazed, oh my!

M just offered up A Challenge!, which I'll rise to in the next day or so - in the meantime, I wanted to mention a most lovely evening at my friend Nancy's a few nights ago. I appreciated The Circle of Life theme... and it was nice to celebrate a few friends' August and September births as well as honor mom's passing - thanks to all for allowing me a chance to talk about the experience, even for a bit... and with more than a few tears...

I loved everyone's contributions (Sandy's Gibran, Alisa's P.D. Eastman, Judi's poems, one of which is reprinted below) - I also reference the perfect book Susan P. gifted me with (she had no idea we used to use that song in our pre-K graduation video, oh so many years ago, in my preschool director life). I brought a few photo albums as well as Mom's plastic tiara (which many of you will recall I had on a pillow on her couch back in Georgia before bringing it home to rest on a shelf in my curio cabinet) - the feelings are still fresh and the grief process at this level is new to me. I don't want to segue into "business as usual" and gloss over what is real and deep and ongoing - I cherish my women friends, their importance being one of the many legacies from my mom...

The below essay came to me in a forward, unattributed - it suits...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

GIRLS IN MY CIRCLE

When I was little, I used to believe in the concept of one best friend, and then I started to become a woman. And then I found out that if you allow your heart to open up, God would show you the best in many friends.

One friend is needed when you're going through things with your man. Another friend is needed when you're going through things with your mom. Another will sit beside you in the bleachers as you delight in your children and their activities. Another when you want to shop, share, heal, hurt, joke, or just be. One friend will say, 'Let's cry together,' another , 'Let's fight together,' another , 'Let's walk away together.'

One friend will meet your spiritual need, another your shoe fetish, another your love for movies, another will be with you in your season of confusion, another will be your clarifier, another the wind beneath your wings.

But whatever their assignment in your life, on whatever the occasion, on whatever the day, or wherever you need them to meet you with their gym shoes on and hair pulled back, or to hold you back from making a complete fool of yourself... those are your best friends.

It may all be wrapped up in one woman, but for many, it's wrapped up in several... one from 7th grade, one from high school, several from the college years, a couple from old jobs, on some days your mother, on some days your neighbor, on others, your sisters, and on some days, your daughters.

Thanks for being in my circle.

SONG: Three Women by Carrie Newcomer (scroll down to page 17)

BOOK: Forever Young by Bob Dylan, Paul Rogers (illustrator)

POEM: Just Lying on the Grass at Blackwater by Mary Oliver

I think sometimes of the possible glamour of death -

that it might be wonderful to be

lost and happy inside the green grass -

or to be the green grass! -

or, maybe the pink rose, or the blue iris,

or the affable daisy, or the twirled vine

looping its way skyward – that I might be perfectly peaceful

to be the shining lake, or the hurrying, athletic river,

or the dark shoulders of the trees

where the thrush each evening weeps himself into an ecstasy.

I lie down in the fields of goldenrod, and everlasting.

Who could find me?

My thoughts simplify. I have not done a thousand things

or a hundred things but, perhaps, a few.

As for wondering about answers that are not available except

in books, though all my childhood I was sent there

to find them, I have learned

to leave all that behind

as in summer I take off my shoes and my socks,

my jacket, my hat, and go on

happier, through the fields. The little sparrow

with the pink beak

calls out, over and over, so simply – not to me

but to the whole world. All afternoon

I grow wiser, listening to him,

soft, small, nameless fellow at the top of some weed,

enjoying his life. If you can sing, do it. If not,

even silence can feel, to the world, like happiness,

like praise,

from the pool of shade you have found beneath the everlasting.

QUOTE(S): “If you carry your childhood with you, you never become older.” ~ Tom Stoppard

"Friendship is a combination of art and craft. The craft part is in knowing how to give and how to take. The art part is in knowing when, and the the whole process only works when no one is keeping track." - E. L. Konigsburg

Every Grain of Sand (Bob Dylan)

Happy Earth Day!

I facilitated our UU church service this past Sunday, on the topic of our seventh principle: the interdependent web of life - below are excerpts from the sermon:

Springtime – the season of rebirth – is the perfect time to Celebrate Earth Sunday as humans have celebrated the bounty of Earth since ancient times. Everything we need for life comes from this Earth. There is no other source. So on this special occasion, let us “celebrate the web of life . . . seeing the divinity in every living thing.”

Attending to our relationship with Earth, and our responsibility for its care is crucial in this time as Earth suffers under the burden of careless human activities. And in gratitude for the beauty and bounty of this precious planet, let us also commit ourselves to “protect the lives of all that share the glory of the Earth.”

If we pay attention, the Earth will teach us gratitude instead of grasping, simple joy instead of compulsive consumption, openness to life instead of a driven (and fruitless) attempt to control everything. Thoughtlessness needs to give way to awareness, arrogance to compassion, addiction to balanced calm. A deep and abiding connection with nature can be that antidote to the compulsiveness and stresses of a life spent chasing the materialism of our post-modern American Dream.

As Unitarian Universalists, we profess to believe in the interdependent web – the unity of all existence. And we acknowledge that we are a part of it. Not outside of it. Not separate from it. And not subject to a different set of rules, or consequences. The evidence for its Truth is found in science, and also art and spirituality. We feel the interdependence in our relationships with each other, and our relationships with non-human creatures, and specific places. Our consciousness of these connections has to influence the way we live. How can we allow ourselves to use more of the Earth’s gifts than we need, knowing that our grandchildren and future generations will not have what they need for survival? How can we let our greed get in the way of our relationships?

We Americans suffer from a “Gratitude Deficit Disorder” – we keep trying to make ourselves happy through more stuff, but it never works, so we have to grab for even more stuff. It’s a never ending escalation, this addiction to stuff. We must break the cycle, remembering that happiness comes from relationships, connections, satisfaction of worthwhile endeavors.

[ Here... two long-time members at the Unitarian Universalist Church of Ft. Lauderdale shared their own personal experiences and relationship with the Earth. ]

In the final analysis, to love the Earth is to participate in the circles of life with respect and compassion. It is to live, work, and play in communities... communities that celebrate our interconnectedness and strengthen our ties... with one another, with the land, and with all of nature. We must deepen our sense of place, and take time to watch, and listen, and absorb the wisdom of the Earth.

Our longing for a healthy future for all beings may seem too good to be true when everything in our world conspires against our efforts to reach that vision. But hope assumes that, in the end, all will be well. That all must be well! Hope is not based on facts. Hope is a choice built on the faith that we have the imagination and creativity to build such a future. And that we are, in fact, building it.

In addition to the suggestions made by F and K... we urge you today to make, or continue, a commitment to action: bring your canvas bags to the grocery store... recycle... walk, bus or bike instead of driving and, if you do drive, carpool... use compact fluorescent light bulbs... turn off lights when you leave a room... brush your teeth with the water off... plant a garden... start and maintain a compost pile... become a locavore (eating as much locally-grown food as possible)... buy minimally-packaged goods to reduce your garbage... go on a low carbon diet... support carbon offsets... take the Ten Tree Challenge, which is listed on the UU Ministry for Earth website, which was a great resource for this service...

The principle of the interconnected web reminds us that we are connected to each other as well as to the Earth and all the creatures that are a part of nature. And we must spread the message of our that connection, a message that challenges us to heal the Earth for our children, and for all of Beings on this precious planet. We must all envision and work towards a future that will be healthy for all beings as if our lives depended on it. Because, in fact, it does.

May we be among those bringing forth that vision. And may that vision come to be our reality.

P.S. Have you seen Google's logo today?

SONG: Every Grain of Sand by Bob Dylan

BOOK: Thinking Like a Mountain: Towards a Council of All Beings by John Seed, Joanna Macy, Pat Fleming

POEM: To Begin With, the Sweet Grass (excerpt) by Mary Oliver

1.

Will the hungry ox stand in the field and not eat
of the sweet grass?
Will the owl bite off its own wings?
Will the lark forget to lift its body in the air or
forget to sing?
Will the rivers run upstream?

Behold, I say - behold
the reliability and the finery and the teachings
of this gritty earth gift.

2.

Eat bread and understand comfort.
Drink water, and understand delight.
Visit the garden where the scarlet trumpets
are opening their bodies for the hummingbirds
who are drinking the sweetness, who are
thrillingly gluttonous.

For one thing leads to another.
Soon you will notice how stones shine underfoot.
Eventually tides will be the only calendar you believe in.

And someone's face, whom you love, will be as a star
both intimate and ultimate,
and you will be both heart-shaken and respectful.
And you will hear the air itself, like a beloved, whisper:
oh, let me, for a while longer, enter the two
beautiful bodies of your lungs.

7.

What I loved in the beginning, I think, was mostly myself.
Never mind that I had to, since somebody had to.
That was many years ago.
Since then I have gone out from my confinements,
through with difficulty.
I mean the ones that thought to rule my heart.
I cast them out, I put them on the mush pile.
They will be nourishment somehow (everything is nourishment
somehow or another).
And I have become the child of the clouds, and of hope.
I have become the friend of the enemy, whoever that is.
I have become older and, cherishing what I have learned,
I have become younger.

And what do I risk to tell you this, which is all I know?
Love yourself. Then forget it. Then, love the world.

QUOTE: “To be alive in this beautiful, self-organizing universe – to participate in the dance of life with senses to perceive it, lungs that breathe it, organs that draw nourishment from it – is a wonder beyond words. Gratitude for the gift of life is the primary wellspring of all religions, the hallmark of the mystic, the source of all true art. Furthermore, it is a privilege to be alive in this time when we can choose to take part in the self-healing of our world.” ~ Joanna Macy

Highway 61 Revisited (Bob Dylan)

Wednesday night was our book club discussion group meeting, and I mentioned earlier in the week that this month's selection was The Road by Cormac McCarthy - it has now joined To Kill a Mockingbird, Broken for You, Prodigal Summer and others in my Top Ten.

As I said, despite the stark subject (post-apocalyptic America), the language is stunning - although the reader visualizes the landscape in terms of black/bleak, gray/ashen, white/snowy (with splotches of occasional red/blood), the tone is undeniably optimistic. McCarthy is liberal (but not elitist) with his use of unrecognizable vocabulary, to the point where I almost suspected they were made up but, upon dictionary perusal, determined they were indeed real (rachitic and crozzled and parsible, oh my) - his not contractions were also apostrophe-deficient (shouldnt, didnt, cant), conjuring thoughts of calling in TEAL, a bit of comic relief to break up the horror (weak grin)...

The novel reminded me of Stephen King's The Stand (a long-time favorite), another tale of good vs. evil, although with fewer characters, less dialogue and more symbolism - McCarthy's prose is substantially more poetic and the undercurrent of hope is equally prevalent, but not easily told in shades of black or white (no pun intended)...

I don't think I'll ever be able to view a See Rock City sign, drink a Coca Cola or eat canned peaches without a visceral reaction - I'm also reminded to hug my (almost-grown) children more frequently, show my husband (of almost 32 years) I love him more demonstrably and stop and smell the "fire" more mindfully...

One member absolutely hated the book, and asked if anyone wanted her copy... and I quickly spoke up so I could pass it on to a friend - to say I'd highly recommend is an understatement (various said-it-better-than-I-ever-could reviews below)...

Wikipedia

Washington Post

New York Book Review

SONG: Highway 61 Revisited by Bob Dylan

BOOK: The Road by Cormac McCarthy

POEM: For the Children by Gary Snyder

The rising hills, the slopes
of statistics
lie before us.
the steep climb
of everything, going up,
up, as we all
go down.

In the next century
or the one beyond that,
they say,
are valleys, pastures,
we can meet there in peace
if we make it.

To climb these coming crests
one word to you, to
you and your children:

stay together
learn the flowers
go light

QUOTE: "The future is called "perhaps," which is the only possible thing to call the future. And the only important thing is not to allow that to scare you." ~ Tennessee Williams

Green Eggs and Ham (Bob Dylan... or a reasonable facsimile... :-)

From today's Writer's Almanac:

It's the birthday of the children's book author who wrote under the name Dr. Seuss, (books by this author) born Theodor Geisel, in Springfield, Massachusetts (1904). He was the son of German immigrants. His mother was an accomplished high diver, and his father was a target shooter who held the world record for marksmanship at 200 yards.

He studied literature and planned on becoming an English professor. But a woman in one of his classes noticed the drawings he doodled in the margin of his notebook during a lecture on Milton, and she told him he should become a cartoonist. He took her advice and also decided to marry her.

Seuss made a living selling cartoons to magazines, and he also drew cartoons for advertisements. The Standard Oil Company hired him to create monsters that live in the car, and he created the Moto-raspus, the Moto-munchus, and the Karbo-nockus. He published his first book for children, And to Think That I Saw It on Mulberry Street, in 1937.

He went on to publish a series of fairly successful books for older children, and then, in 1955, an educational specialist asked him if he would write a book to help children learn how to read. Seuss was given a list of 300 words that most first-graders know, and he had to write the book using only those words. Seuss wasn't sure he could do it, but as he looked over the list, two words jumped out at him: "cat" and "hat."

Seuss spent the next nine months writing what would become The Cat in the Hat (1957). That book is 1,702 words long, but it uses only 220 different words. Parents and teachers immediately began using it to teach children to read, and within the first year of its publication it was selling 12,000 copies a month.

A few years later, Seuss's publisher bet him $50 that he could not write a book using only 50 different words. Seuss won the bet with his book Green Eggs and Ham (1960), which uses exactly 50 different words, and only one of those words has more than one syllable: the word "anywhere." It became the fourth best-selling children's hardcover book of all time.

A bit more googling, following a semi-memory from last year, led me to this article - although the original website is now defunct (i.e., someone pulled the plug), an mp3 of the song seems to still exist...

Tangled up in Seuss
When a musician recorded "Green Eggs and Ham" in the voice of vintage Bob Dylan and posted it online, the Grinch estate promptly replied: One fish, two fish, cease and desist.
by Dan Brekke

Salon
April 13, 2007

Kevin Ryan doesn't want to talk about his recent fling with Web stardom. He's a bit rueful and more than a little nervous about it, in fact, and wishes the whole thing would just go away.
If you missed his star turn, here's what happened: Ryan, a 33-year-old Houston music producer and author, went into his home studio and engineered a sort of retro mash-up of two of his favorite artists, Bob Dylan and Dr. Seuss.

Ryan took the text from seven Seuss classics, including "The Cat in the Hat" and "Green Eggs and Ham," and set them to original tunes that sounded like they were right off Dylan's mid-'60s releases. He played all the instruments and sang all the songs in Dylan's breathy, nasal twang. He registered a domain name, dylanhearsawho.com, and in February posted his seven tracks online, accompanied by suitably Photoshopped album artwork, under the title "Dylan Hears a Who."

The rest of the article can be found here...

[I used another poem when I first posted this blog earlier today, but decided to replace it with one I wrote over a decade ago, for a friend's Return to Singlehood party six months after her divorce - she asked that each person's gift be an "exercise in creativity" and I tapped into my inner-preschool teacher (my career path at the time) to convey my depiction of the emotional tug-of-war I witnessed... and safety-netted with music, white zinfandel and non-judgmental listening on many an occasion. Life has a way of working itself out - I am lucky to still count her among my friends... ]

[Added 11:15 p.m.: I just finished watching Iron Chef America, an admitted TV addiction - the secret ingredient was, synchronistically, ham... and one of the dishes Cat Cora made was Green Ham and Eggs... :-) ]

SONG: Green Eggs and Ham by Bob Dylan... or a reasonable facsimile... :-)

BOOK: The Seuss, the Whole Seuss and Nothing But the Seuss: A Visual Biography of Theodor Seuss Geisel by Charles D. Cohen

POEM: Fleeing Legs Then Wham! (with sincere apologies to Dr. Seuss) ~ self-penned, 10/27/95

I'm Roxanne.
Roxanne I am.

I am sad, so sad, you see,
because The Grinch walked out on me.
I do not want to be alone,
I talk to friends all day by phone.

What did I do to make him go?
I do not know, I do not know.
I only know I loved him so,
and loved the life I'd come to know.

How will I raise these kids of mine
without a Dad to make it fine?
I am in such great despair.
Who cares about the Cultural Arts Fair?

My world has fallen down on me,
I cannot do this alone, you see.
My nights are spent tossing and turning,
my days go by in endless yearning.

You can, you can, you are so strong,
if not now, it will not be long.
It may seem worry is here to stay,
but you will soon wake up one day
and realize that what seemed lost
has taken on another cost.
Try it, try it, you will see,
that being alone can be very free.

I will not try it in a bar,
I will not try it in a car,
I will not try it with my friends,
I only want this pain to end.

I will not try in here or there,
I will not try it anywhere.
There isn't enough wine in Pembroke Pines
to make me forget this horrible time.

I think that you will realize
and see things through unclouded eyes,
that what you seek to keep isn't worth
the one who took away your mirth.
And you will wake one day to find
that maybe you don't even mind
the time alone, with kids or friends.
Who needs this guy to make amends.

Hey, it has been six months and you were right,
I now can sleep right through the night,
and those who mattered to me before
still ring my phone and bang my door.

I have my school, my family, my work,
although they can make me berserk,
it is a different way I feel,
it is so true, it is so real.
I like the person that I am,
and sometimes I don't give a damn.

Hell, yes, I'll try it on a plane,
and in the dark and in the rain.
I will try it in my room,
just reading a book or listening to tunes.
I will try it here or there,
I will try it everywhere.
I do not mind losing his name
because alone and lonely are not the same.

QUOTE: "Don't cry because it's over. Smile because it happened.” ~ Theodor Geisel

One More Cup of Coffee (Bob Dylan)

I know everybody says this but... I don't watch much television - really. However, there are a few shows I make a point to turn on, one of which is Weeds, in which "Nancy Botwin (Mary-Louise Parker) struggles with the sudden death of her husband and agonizes over how she'll support and raise two young boys on her own. Without any discernable career skills, the widow Botwin finds good paying work as the local pot dealer in the pristine, new LA suburb known as Agrestic."

Allrighty then... - what's probably even worse is that my 19-year-old son turned me on (no pun intended) to it over the summer, so I spent a few sleepless nights catching up on all the back episodes of Seasons 1 and 2 so as to be ready for the third when it premiered last month. The theme song is Malvina Reynolds' Little Boxes, and her version played for all of Season 1 - Season 2 found a different musical artist covering the song each episode, showcasing such diverse talent as Elvis Costello, Death Cab for Cutie and The McGarrigle Sisters.

I think the show is clever, intriguing and unpredictable - about the only thing you can count on is that Nancy is going to have some sort of franchise coffee drink (hot or cold) in each scene... which brings me to today's poem-inspired theme...

P.S. My other TV shows of choice: Antiques Roadshow, Iron Chef America and Jeopardy - I happen to *adore* Alex Trebek, and I have a feeling I could, charmingly, get him to stack the deck for me... with Creative Song Lyrics; Alice Hoffman Novel Characters; The Colors of the Rainbow; Best Children's Books of All-Time; and Denim, Batik, and Macrame (oh, my!): Have the 60's Really Come Back?... :-)

SONG: One More Cup of Coffee by Bob Dylan

BOOK: The Song of Suburbia by David Bouchier

POEM: A New Lifestyle by James Tate

People in this town drink too much

coffee. They're jumpy all the time. You

see them drinking out of their big plastic

mugs while they're driving. They cut in

front of you, they steal your parking places.

Teenagers in the cemeteries knocking over

tombstones are slurping café au lait.

Recycling men hanging onto their trucks are

sipping espresso. Dogcatchers running down

the street with their nets are savoring

their cups of mocha java. The holdup man

entering a convenience store first pours

himself a nice warm cup of coffee. Down

the funeral parlor driveway a boy on a

skateboard is spilling his. They're so

serious about their coffee, it's all they

can think about, nothing else matters.

Everyone's wide awake but looks incredibly

tired.

QUOTE: "Coffee should be black as hell, strong as death and sweet as love." ~ Turkish proverb

Forever Young (Bob Dylan)

Today I am fifty-f*cking-three years old - who'd a thunk it?!?

The following, written by Robert Redford, was posted to the Dar Williams discussion list yesterday - considering her song, You're Aging Well, is my personal anthem, this hits me in the heart. I'm fond of saying that I feel 19 until I pass a mirror, and then do a double-take at the older woman staring back - maybe I'll purposely avoid the looking glass so as to prolong my perception, however skewed... :-)

Some time ago I was driving from Santa Fe to Sundance - taking back roads only - when I came on some cattle wandering along ahead of me, headed by a woman in a rusted red pick-up. Because of having to slow down I had time to gaze around and think. I focused on the back of the head and shoulders of the woman in the truck. She had a ponytail and a bandana cinching up her blonde hair. She periodically waved a tanned arm outside the driver's open window directing and yelling instructions to a couple of cowboys riding alongside the course.

I thought, she has wonderful energy--youthful and spirited. I imagined a young girl 16 or 17 schooled on ranch life taking on the responsibilities of older brothers.

Finally, as they all cleared and I passed I saw her face. It was of a woman in her 60's, wizened by the rigors of weather and hardship. As she looked at me and smiled, her wrinkled and burrowed brow still bore an innocence of a time gone by. I thought, when did that moment happen, that moment when she passed from youth to old age? Is she aware of the moment? Of this Passing? Did she know? Do any of us?

P.S. I'll be on the radio today, in the 2:00 p.m. hour, on Michael Stock's Folk and Acoustic Show (WLRN, 91.3), promoting our upcoming Labyrinth Cafe concert series, for which I do the booking - the station webstreams if anyone who reads this has a notion to listen...

SONG: Forever Young by Bob Dylan

BOOK: The Fountain of Age by Betty Friedan

POEM: How to Be Old by May Swenson

It is easy to be young, (Everybody is,

at first.) It is not easy

to be old. It takes time.

Youth is given; age is achieved.

One must work a magic to mix with time

in order to become old.

Youth is given. One must put it away

like a doll in a closet,

take it out and play with it only

on holidays. One must have many dresses

and dress the doll impeccably

(but not to show the doll, to keep it hidden.)

It is necessary to adore the doll,

to remember it in the dark on the ordinary

days, and every day congratulate

one's aging face in the mirror.

In time one will be very old.

In time, one's life will be accomplished.

And in time, in time, the doll––

like new, though ancient––will be found.

QUOTE: "We do not grow absolutely, chronologically. We grow sometimes in one dimension, and not in another; unevenly. We grow partially. We are relative. We are mature in one realm, childish in another. The past, present, and future mingle and pull us backward, forward or fix us in the present. We are made up of layers, cells, constellations." ~ Anais Nin

Buckets of Rain (Bob Dylan)

Lots of rain these last few days - a bit of a pain driving back and forth to work in it, although we desperately need the increased precipitation to make up for the horrendous drought we've been experiencing (water restrictions in effect). It's been a crazy and difficult last two weeks, as we've been short-handed in the office and I'm working longer hours - I just can't seem to check off items on my To Do List fast enough. However, it is Friday evening and, at this point, I welcome the continued downpour - I'm donning my bunny slippers, pouring a glass of Pinot Grigio and curling up with a good book. All is right with the world - relaxation mode on...

SONG: Buckets of Rain by Bob Dylan

BOOK: Bringing the Rain to Kapiti Plain by Verna Aardema

POEM: The Rain by Robert Creeley

All night the sound had
come back again,
and again falls
this quiet, persistent rain.

What am I to myself
that must be remembered,
insisted upon,
so often? Is it

that never the ease,
even the hardness,
of rain falling
will have for me

something other than this,
something not so insistent—
am I to be locked in this
final uneasiness.

Love, if you love me,
lie next to me.
Be for me, like rain,
the getting out

of the tiredness, the fatuousness, the semi-
lust of intentional indifference.
Be wet
with a decent happiness.

QUOTE: “May you always have walls for the winds, a roof for the rain, tea beside the fire, laughter to cheer you, those you love near you and all your heart might desire.” ~ Irish blessing

A Hard Rain's A-Gonna Fall (Bob Dylan)

In honor of Bob Dylan's 66th birthday... today! - the times, they are a'changin', indeed... :-)

SONG: A Hard Rain's A-Gonna Fall by Bob Dylan

BOOK: Chronicles: Volume One by Bob Dylan

POEM: Hard Rain by Tony Hoagland

After I heard It's a Hard Rain's A-Gonna Fall
played softly by an accordion quartet
through the ceiling speakers at the Springdale Shopping Mall,
I understood there's nothing
we can't pluck the stinger from,
nothing we can't turn into a soft drink flavor or a t-shirt.

Even serenity can become something horrible
if you make a commercial about it
using smiling, white-haired people
quoting Thoreau to sell retirement homes
in the Everglades, where the swamp has been
drained and bulldozed into a nineteen-hole golf course
with electrified alligator barriers.

You can't keep beating yourself up, Billy
I heard the therapist say on television
to the teenage murderer,
About all those people you killed—
You just have to be the best person you can be,
one day at a time—

and everybody in the audience claps and weeps a little,
because the level of deep feeling has been touched,
and they want to believe that
the power of Forgiveness is greater
than the power of Consequence, or History.

Dear Abby:
My father is a businessman who travels.
Each time he returns from one of his trips,
his shoes and trousers
are covered with blood-
but he never forgets to bring me a nice present;
Should I say something?
Signed, America.

I used to think I was not part of this,
that I could mind my own business and get along,
but that was just another song
that had been taught to me since birth—
whose words I was humming under my breath,
as I was walking through the Springdale Mall.

QUOTE: Bob Dylan was once asked if he thought of himself more as a singer or a poet. He said, "I think of myself more as a song-and-dance man."