Horsepower

On Sunday evening Robin and I attended an event at a local BnB which was sponsored by our local Indivisible chapter. This was a social occasion rather than a strategizing occasion, which was sorely needed by the working members. So good to just have some time to hang out and enjoy one another’s company.

The first half hour consisted of mingling and the next two hours we spent watching a television broadcast of the Rise Up: Sing Out! concert that was taking place in New York City and being viewed all across the USA. There were stirring speeches and stirring songs and a lot of beautiful people saying things we needed to hear. Jane Fonda was there, as was Bette Midler.

Robert De Niro even got up to speak and to give his assessment of what we can answer whenever we hear Trump open his mouth. According to him all we need to say is: Shut the fuck up. For the next minute the audience enjoyed a call and response thing where De Niro would make a statement and we would answer with that same pithy phrase. Clearing out the cobwebs, so to speak.

Robin even won a door prize, so the evening was a total success.

One of the last songs of the evening was The People Have The Power, written and sung by Patti Smith, from her 1988 album. The song was long and loud and brash and was a perfect fit for the evening.

The People Have The Power, by Patti Smith

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I hope that you can forgive an old Minnesota boy for having completely missed Patti Smith. Singer, songwriter, poet, photographer, author of twenty books. Whew! Right by me. What a waste of space I have been. The case could be made for just putting me to sleep and making an end to the whole sorry thing.

On the other hand, if you recall these words of Jesus imagine what a good day they are having in Heaven right now.

I say unto you that likewise more joy shall be in Heaven over one sinner that repenteth, than over ninety and nine just persons who need no repentance.

Luke 15:7, King James Bible

My first attempt at repentance was to read the Wikipedia biographic entry on Patti Smith, and by the time I was done with even that abbreviated bit of prose I was exhausted. And in awe. She is such a creative person that she makes the gap between her and we ordinary mortals depressingly obvious . When Bob Dylan couldn’t make it to Oslo to pick up his Nobel Prize for poetry, who do you think went in his stead? Yep, it was Patti Smith.

I’d love to see a PET scan of her brain at work, I’ll bet you could light an entire room with the glow.

She is regarded as one of the earliest punk performers, and the album Horses is listed among Rolling Stones’ 100 Greatest Albums. But in my listening this week I found that she has a tender and lyrical side as well. Here’s the lullaby “The Jackson Song” from Dream of Life. It was written for her two-year old son. Prepare to be beguiled.

The Jackson Song, by Patti Smith

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Lyrics to: The Jackson Song

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Patti Smith yesterday and today.

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Coming back from the grocery store I was listening to our local station which is KVNF. It’s the kind of station where the absence of corporate ownership means a lack of the sterility you find generally in music radio. Definitely old school. Local DJs play what they want, and between the bunch of them they cover pretty much all of musical genres except for classical. Today one was playing a version of Bruce Springsteen’s The Ghost of Tom Joad. It was a live performance and was both electrified and rock-ified. Tom Morello sings along with Bruce. Good cover. Enough passion for a multitude.

The Ghost of Tom Joad, by Bruce Springsteen and Tom Morello

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Warmakers

This photograph showed up on Substack on Sunday. Of an exhausted Ukrainian soldier sleeping in a trench with his companion. Harshness and tenderness in one heartbreaking frame. He is so young, so bruised and muddy. The cat holding on to his shirt with that single paw. There are tears to be shed for this pair of soldier-friends. They should be home, not out where people are trying to kill them. May God please damn all to hell the men who make wars.

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I have been so glad that our troubadours are raising their voices against Cluck’s depredations. In the Twin Cities on No Kings 3 there were musicians Tom Morello, Bruce Springsteen, Joan Baez, and Maggie Rogers. Music has such power. It slices right past any defenses or cynicism we might be holding up to shield ourselves and hits us where it sticks. Baez and Rogers singing The Times They Are A-Changing was a linear connection, a passing of torches.

There are many American men and women who have been on the right side of change and history, but none more consistently than Joan Baez. Her life and her music are well embedded in my DNA … CRISPR-ed in by time and circumstance.

Colours, by Joan Baez

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How fragile we all really are
Like straws of glass
In a windy field
We feel so strong
So confident
When standing on our own
Admiring of ourselves
Our beauty and the distance we have come
When suddenly a wayward wind
Breaks off a piece of us
And sends it tumbling to the earth

It’s when we soften, when we flex
And bend before the gale
That we survive
And when the wind dies down
We spring up
Wiser, stronger, taller than before
Ready now to leap another hurdle in the row
That circumstance has left there in our way

We can’t complain that life is not the way we wish
It’s not a promise
Of a road, a list of happy guarantees
Life is life
No more, no less
Perhaps it could be looked at
As a set of chances

To attain a goal, a happiness
And if we reach one, why, let out that joy
Crack open that champagne that you’ve saved
And celebrate your little victory
Before the day i
s done.

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Little Victories, by Bob Seger

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To me there are few pleasures in this world better than sitting down to a steaming bowl of soup. Not just any old slop, mind you, but something warm and liquid and composed mostly of umami. And if one lives long enough a list of favorites begins to arise. One of my own faves I first encountered at the chain of restaurants called Olive Garden. Its name? Zuppa Toscana. It knocked me off my chair.

Such flavor, such delicacy … even a bouquet! I gobbled it up and immediately ordered a refill, which I have been doing ever since when offered the opportunity. Like last evening at a local restaurant. Last night’s version was good, but not quite up to the original.

But here comes the good part. At least a couple of decades ago I ran across a bootleg recipe that promised exactly the same flavors as those of the Olive Garden version. It lived up to that promise and has done so every time I make it. So anyone with the recipe in their hand has a power that can only be granted by the gods – and now, standing in for them, me. Click on the link and be empowered, but don’t stint. Use a good grade of sausage and you can’t go wrong. Zuppa Toscana. You got it.

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