Click on the headline to link to a "YouTube" film clip of Iris Dement performing "Our Town".
Markin comment:
Okay, okay I know this is not related to the song mentioned at the top of the story but I just wanted an excuse to listen to my "Arkie Angel".
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Not all the entries in this space are connected to politics, although surely most of them can be boiled down into some political essence, if you try hard enough. The following is one of those instances where trying to gain any “political traction”, or as I am fond of saying, drawing any “lessons” would be foolhardy. I should also note that this entry is part of a continuing, if sporadic, series of “trips down memory lane” provoked by a fellow high school classmate who has been charged with keeping tabs on old classmates and their doings, even those of old-line communists like this writer. Go figure?
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This comment was provoked by viewing a number of "now" photos of fellow old geezer classmates. As I noted in the headline-Ouch!
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On “Now” Photos- For Robert F.
“’Cause I’ve memorized each line in your face and not even death can ever erase the story they tell to me”-a line from the folksinger/songwriter Iris DeMent’s hauntingly beautiful song, “After You’re Gone”. (You can Google for the rest of the lyrics. Some of her music is on “YouTube but I could not find this one.)
Well, of course, those lyrics only apply to our male classmates. After all Iris is singing about her gone man. I do not, age of sexual equality or not, want to extend their application to our sister classmates because I do not need to have every cyber-stone in the universe thrown at me. But those same lyrics do bring me to the purpose of today’s entry. As part of getting a 'feel’ for writing about the old high school I peruse the class profiles and a number of you have placed your current photos there, although a number of people, including myself, are apparently camera-shy. Some, however, like the, to be polite, bleary-eyed Chase brothers are not at all shy. (By the way, Jimmie and John, and others as well, what is up with the hats? We are Kennedy-era boys and hats were not part of our uniform.) Or like the born-again "muscle man", Bill Cady, formerly mentioned in this space as the slender, silky-strided, gracefully-gaited class star runner. That little fact forms the basis for my comment.
I have to admit that I have been startled by some of the photos. Many of them seem to have been taken by your grandchildren just before their naps. Isn’t the digital age supposed to have made the camera instantly user-friendly? Why all the soft-focus, looking through a fish tank kind of shots. And why does everyone seem to be have been photographed down the far end of some dark corridor or by someone about six miles away? Nobody expects Bachrach-quality photos but something is amiss here.
In contrast, a new arrival on this photo scene, Robert Flame, has found just the right approach. Initially, Robert placed a recent shot of himself on his profile page. Frankly, the old codger looked like he was wanted in about six states for “kiting” checks, and maybe had done a little “time”. More recently, however, his page has been graced with a stock photo provided by the site, a tastefully-shot, resplendent, wide old tree. Wise choice. Automatically I now associate Robert with the tree of life, with oneness with the universe, with solidity, with the root of matter in him, and with bending but not breaking. Moreover, I do not have to suppress a need to dial 911, but rather can think of Robert as one who walks with kings, as a sage for the ages. And nothing can ever erase the story that tells to me.
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