Memory
Every single day is paradoxically heaven and hell. My grand daughter cannot experience life in such terms because she is somewhere in the middle of her effort to acquire language. I have no doubt that as years pass, with experience, reading, pursuit of scholarship, she will understand that unalloyed moments of joy flicker and pass. Also, there is no pain that lasts forever. Everything passes, everything. Any individual that says otherwise, is lying, and has ill intentions, likely has a con in mind…
Today is my birthday. I’ve never paid much attention to any past birthday. It is a “matter of time” until nature taps one on the shoulder, with a reminder of mortality. I am not the man that I once was in many respects. So be it. It is always time to move on, is it not? Should I grieve what cannot be helped? I could panic and do something extreme, a fool’s errand, proof to myself that I “remain” in my 40s… Every action has a cost. Every action taken must be paid for, something I and others would regret.
I will remain right here in relative comfort at Starbucks for a few more minutes, to enjoy coffee while it remains warm. I will finish this post. I will remember the suffering of Ukraine, this day of agony with the distant rumble of Russian artillery, the shriek of multiple rocket launchers raining ruin upon some distant town. I am angry that our president often says what we cannot do to help them. Fear of the Russians, fear of the lassitude, and of the distraction of Americans are subtext of this foreign policy. How long will we pay nearly five dollars for a gallon of gas to help Ukraine? Not for very long.
I remember “The Summer of Soul” documentary film which we viewed last night. Experiencing the film caused me to remember 1969. I remember the social ferment caused by the unnecessary, by the monstrous, colonial war waged to prevent the Vietnamese autonomy over their country. I narrowly missed being drafted for that. Sometimes I wonder if I would have returned home, if circumstances had broken differently? Would I have returned with a permanent nightmare embedded in my mind?
In 1969 American Blacks were “waking up” coming to consciousness of their 2nd class citizenship, their servitude to the dominant White male majority. Malcom X, Martin Luther King Jr., and Huey Newton gave voice to their will to “rise up.” Newton founded the Black Panther Party. According to wikipedia, despite graduating from high school not knowing how to read, he taught himself literacy by reading Plato’s Republic and earned a Ph.D. in social philosophy from the University of California at Santa Cruz.
The 1969 Harlem Cultural Festival was held at Mount Morris Park for six weeks. The film, Summer of Soul is a window back to that fold-point time in the American story. I was 20 years old in 1969.
Here is a clip from the movie. David Ruffin performs the thrilling Motown hit My Girl.
