Why do you pick those old songs a reader will ask?  Honestly those are the songs that I know.  Those are the songs of my generation, that served to inspire, that firmed our resolve as some of us marched to protest a foreign war, a place where many young Americans took their last breath in a dark jungle.  We also protested the racism that is still woven into the fabric of our society.  In the summer of love, the Woodstock generation gave themselves permission to explore the hazards and the rewards of human sexuality.  All of that, — the quest to reduce war, to protest racist attitudes, the violence of discrimination, as well as the exhilaration of human sexuality persist uninterrupted.  What other than the poetry of lyric, and the raw energy of a tune is apt to direct the solidarity that we need?  When the music dies, then so do we.

Here is another tune from 1979.  The lyric depicts a child’s questioning of his/her mother about the dangers of being alive in the world such as it is.  The child’s inquiry is prompted by “the wall” which any parent will attempt to build in order to protect the innocent, helpless child from the stakes that await him/her.

Paradoxically a wall will precipitate the very hazards it was designed to prevent.  The questions asked receive a knowing silence, — they are unanswered.  A mother knows well what the answer must be.

Drop the bomb?  Break my balls?  There is no question, — they surely will.  Will they put me in the firing line?

Mother, do you think she’s good enough for me?
Mother, do you think she’s dangerous to me?
Mother, will she tear your little boy apart?
Ooh, aah, mother, will she break my heart?

…Hush now, baby, baby, don’t you cry
Mama’s gonna make all of your nightmares come true

The holidays are upon us nonetheless.  Thanksgiving recedes and now we prepare for Christmas.  I was delighted to be shown a decorated Christmas tree by a grandson who is five years old,  He pointed out a colorful ornament made by his older brother depicting an alligator.  I commented that must be the only alligator ornament in the United States.  His brother replied, “Unless you live in Florida.”

Later in the morning the grandson proudly showed me two racers which he had just made out of legos.  Christmas and the creativity of children give me hope that the resistance will go on   There will be more songs to sing.