Tuesday Open Thread: Roots

A look at the man little boy behind the curtain, photos included.

By design I've by and large maintained the profile of a mystery man. Today I unmask myself, well, in an erstwhile sense anyway, through the eyes of a little boy growing up in the 50s.

Some music to set the tone:

For you early risers:

I love this song, played in the background when I wed my lovely wife oh so many moons ago (43 years on October 10):

Read on further and you'll see why I included this song:

-AND-

As promised. Here are some photos of me taken just a few short years decades ago. In my family, all males celebrate birthday number two as the Cowboy Suit Birthday. This is my story. The characters are factual, the pictures are authentic and no real animals were harmed in its telling.

Cowboy1_0.jpg

This photo was taken right after I was dry gulched by a gang of desperadoes. They had gotten the drop on me while I was taking a nap and stole my pony. The tracks were still fresh and I was determined to get Buttercup back. I just needed to figure out what direction those jaspers lit out on.

Cowboy2.jpg

Ah, looks like they headed out through the garden. Bet they stole some of Granpa's corn too, the dad-blasted sidewindin' bushwackers!

Uncle_John.jpg

Uncle John telling me to "Buck up, pard, cowpokes don't cry", after I lost the tracks in the tater patch. At this point I was certain I'd never ride Buttercup again.

Me_and_mom.jpg

Mom consoling me about losing my pony, but what I didn't know was things were about to get much better. You see, Buttercup was really a rocking horse that I had plumb wore out ridin' on all my many cowboy adventures. Unbeknownst to me at the time and as I learned years later, during the aforementioned nap, Buttercup had moved on to the great Rocking Horse Pasture in the Sky. But, to my great surprise, later in the day, mom and dad, grandpa and grandma gave me a brand new rocking pony for my birthday. I was back in the saddle again. The bad guys in black hats were on the run again and the world was right.

hr.png

These photos were taken at Grandma and Grandpa's farm house, mid 50's, central Illinois. They were from the hills of Kentucky, not sure when they moved to Illinois though. I being the first born spent a lot of time there. Precious memories.Granma.jpg No running water, just a pump in the kitchen sink that drew sweet well water. Wood burning pot belly stove that supplied the heat in the winter. Grampa's_Car.jpgI took baths in a large galvanized tub on the kitchen floor, heated water from the wood burner. Outhouse out back, chamber pot on the back porch in the cold winter time. Hillbilly music on the radio as grandma and grandpa called it, I later discovered it to be mountain music and bluegrass. Weenie roasts around a bonfire in the fall, running and running around the big house with cousins big and small. Climbing the apple and pear trees, falling one time and knocking the wind from my lungs, Tree.jpg scared mom cross-eyed. Digging tunnels in the huge snow drifts in the winter. Swimming in the rain flooded ditch out in front of the house. Having to spend the whole day in the house for fear I'd look up at the eclipse. Helping grandpa work on his old car out in the shed. There was a railroad track maybe 50 or 60 feet from the house, it rattled and shook when a train went by. Spent many hours exploring up and down that track on youthful adventure, picking and stuffing wild strawberries into my mouth, flushing rabbits and pheasants from the long grass.Watermelon.jpg Occasionally a hobo would walk by on the track, as forewarned by parents and grandparents I gave width berth. Chickens in the coop, snapping turtles in a 50 gallon drum buried in the ground, vegetables galore in the garden, fruit in the orchard. I learned to love the simple country life. Though they may not have had much they left me rich in memories. I wouldn't trade them for anything. It's been said that one's personality is formed by early childhood experiences, I guess that provides some insight into what makes this old boy tick. I embrace my humble roots.

Is there any wonder why I love bluegrass music so much?

Though I've since grown a bit larger, I'm still the little boy in those photos, in spirit anyway. Must be why I love old westerns. Although I'm not really a cowboy, in lucid dreams, I still ride the trails of days long past.

Adios.
adios.jpg
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I'll be in and out this morning but I'll be available from then on.

These young ladies are great:

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dance you monster's picture

@JtC

. . . we tossed out my old (and desiccated) saddle (I actually had a pony) and diminutive cowboy boots.

As for the ladies just above, the creek that flowed through the farm where I grew up, the waters I played in endlessly, emptied not far away into the Harpeth River. My mom, relocated now, lives near that river again, just a bit higher than the flood-line it famously reached some years back.

Like you, I grew up with the sound of bluegrass. What people call country music, the kind that came along in the 1960s, was in my mind a horrendous infection (and you have to understand we knew quite a few of those singers personally, they were our immediate neighbors, so I had to squelch any negativity), but those old bluegrass sounds and musicians I always liked. On occasion I'd find myself in the black neighborhoods of the county, where you heard the blues (at night) and gospel (in the day). My mom, a classical pianist, was recording some of that gospel music, so we ventured places where most of my peers didn't. And you're right, those early childhood memories shape you forever.

Thanks for the essay and the tunes.

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@dance you monster
the things that trigger memories. I bet the old saddle and boots jolted you back in time when you saw them.

I was not aware of the Harpeth River flood, I'll have to look that up.

Speaking of things that can jolt you back in time, that would be music, no? I totally agree, that the evolution of some genres of music has certainly not been for the better.

Thanks dance.

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Does that mean you were one of the Obama critics who actually did expect a pony?

*ducks*

I recognized the expression in the that first pic of you. A picture of me when I was about ten shows me with the identical expression.

As my extended family and I were getting into positions for a pic, I hit my head on a boulder. That prompted my much older sister, to add insult to injury (literally), to make some humiliating remark, which seemed to be her only hobby when I was young. Hence my expression.

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@HenryAWallace
two, actually.

Does that mean you actually were one of the Obama critics who expected a pony?

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mimi's picture

@JtC
ducking …
If my personality was formed during my early childhood experiences, I have only two. The first house my parents rented after the war had one bedroom for all of us three siblings. I had ever so often what is called in German "ein Böckchen", meaning a hissy fit like male goats fighting each other. My mother used to send me down to the basement's hole, which was tiny, dark square place of around 1 square Yard and apparently the only place, where she could calm down my loud protesting screams. Of course, screaming ended after a couple of minutes turning into sobbing and then into resignated, exhausted silence. Then she came and asked me if my "Böckchen" was over. And I must have nodded with my nose sniffing back its snot. It was said I had some hissy fits quite often, I also ate the some stuff I poked out of the walls in the bedroom. I guess my body needed that Calcium. Just something nobody knew.

And the only thing I remember of my elementary School is that they had outdoor toilets, stinking terribly and nobody wanted to sit on the wood plank covering the hole full of shit. It took a while til Germany had rebuilt schools after wwII.

Very nice of sharing your memories and photos. I think you would have liked me a little as a three year old. I have photos of myself in which I look like you standing leaning against the first car my father had after the war.

Smile

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lotlizard's picture

@mimi  
since the mid-1970s.

For many years they did use an “outhouse” — the low-tech sanitation solution of a separate little wooden shack some way off from the main building, with a hole in the ground and a plank over it — before finally putting in a septic tank.

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mimi's picture

@lotlizard
TV channel: "Wer braucht den Osten" and for the first time I thought I understood what caused the feelings of many in the former East German regions. It helped me a lot, as I never could have understood it from the outside of Germany in the US, even though I was working for the German TV employer WDR as a little archival mouse in the studio in DC. I never had enough time and strength left to follow what was happening in Germany. Now I am out of everything (retired and unhappy).

Your comments and reactions triggered me to pay attention and that documentary gave me lots of insight. Thanks for your input here on C99p.

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@HenryAWallace
"single issue voter" accusation, though it probably also doubled your disappointment.

Win some, lose some.

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Childhood memories of fun times and loved ones - nothing better. I lived in a household of extended family, and I used to watch cowboy movies with my Grandpa all the time. Gabby Hays, Roy Rogers, Lone Ranger - how sweet it was.

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"Religion is what keeps the poor from murdering the rich."--Napoleon

@dkmich
cowboys can't be cute can they? With all that dirt, dust and riding through cow pies, not to mention the steady bean diet. Cowboys can't be cute.

Oh, wait, you mean little cowboys, yeah, maybe. I guess even Gabby may have been cute when he was a little boy. Maybe.

Jimmy Stewart and Gary Cooper are a couple of my faves. And Ben Johnson. Oh, yeah, and the Duke, can't forget the Duke.

Thanks dk.

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turn myself in for the internet crime of posting disinformation. I did not do it intentionally, but my research must have been sloppy or outdated (which is also sloppy).

I have posted here, probably more than once, that Warren wrote no substantive bills that became law. That is false. Warren has written substantive bills that became law. https://www.govtrack.us/congress/members/elizabeth_warren/412542 See also, this 2015 article: https://www.theatlantic.com/politics/archive/2015/05/is-elizabeth-warren...

There may be others out there. If anyone finds any, please let me know.

Believe it or not, authoring several substantive bills that become law in almost six years is a relatively good output for our very expensive, but not very productive, Congress. By way of comparison, then Senator Clinton, whose campaigns included boasting about her ability to get things done, wrote 0 substantive bills that became law. However, for whatever reason(s), Warren also does write bills that she knows from the off will never become law.

I cannot apologize enough.

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lotlizard's picture

I guess only we old fogeys and fogettes still associate the “William Tell Overture” with cowboys, Indians, and the Wild West. My older brother’s cap pistols and cowboy hat were his pride and joy.

And in other news, Joan Baez on her farewell tour . . .

https://www.nakedcapitalism.com/2018/10/thats-hell-act-call.html

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mimi's picture

@lotlizard
me and my son went to an outside Obama campaign event in 2007 in MD. Incredible tight security. But we were in the hopey changey frenzy back then.

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@lotlizard
it certainly was a much different era. Will the kids growing up today look back at this moment in time and consider this the good old days. How messed up will that be?

Heh, Joan Baez schmoozing with the Big Dog, yep, it is truly a different era.

Thanks lotlizard.

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Anja Geitz's picture

I especially loved the memory of eating wild strawberries while exploring the countryside. I'll bet they were wonderfully sweet! Do you remember any of the Sunday meals your Grandmother cooked?

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There is always Music amongst the trees in the Garden, but our hearts must be very quiet to hear it. ~ Minnie Aumonier

@Anja Geitz

but I remember all the great meals my aunt cooked. I also remember riding behind a tractor in a wagon full of baskets overflowing with the peaches they harvested on the farm. OMG talk about peach fuzz face. The fuzz stuck to my face, and it really used to hurt. The peaches were so juicy, fresh, and good that it was worth it.

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"Religion is what keeps the poor from murdering the rich."--Napoleon

Anja Geitz's picture

@dkmich

With that memory. Sitting in the back of the truck with those fuzzy peaches I can almost smell them myself right now. And yes, I remember that fuzz did hurt! (I wonder why peaches nowadays don't have that same kind of fuzz they used to back in the day?)

One of my absolute favorite desserts as a kid was my Mothers peach cobbler. A dish my German mother not only adopted from a Southern friend of hers, but improved upon by adding a touch of peach brandy in it for extra flavor. My Mother's peach cobbler, served warm, in a bowl, with ice cream and a spoon was love personified.

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There is always Music amongst the trees in the Garden, but our hearts must be very quiet to hear it. ~ Minnie Aumonier

mhagle's picture

@Anja Geitz

https://www.allrecipes.com/recipe/218021/best-in-show-blackberry-cobbler/

I first used this recipe last Spring with wild blackberries. When we had the bumper crop of peaches this summer I started using it with peaches. I use butter instead of margarine and cut the final sugar from 1/2 cup to two tablespoons. Works great with my frozen peaches. Perfect every time.

Never successfully made cobbler before finding this recipe.

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Marilyn

"Make dirt, not war." eyo

Raggedy Ann's picture

@mhagle @mhagle
a co-worker of mine gave me this very recipe in the mid-80's. It works every time!

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"The “jumpers” reminded us that one day we will all face only one choice and that is how we will die, not how we will live." Chris Hedges on 9/11

mhagle's picture

@Raggedy Ann

Yeah. Maybe we should have a recipe OT again. I am a cooking novice and enjoy the advice of the sages.

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Marilyn

"Make dirt, not war." eyo

Anja Geitz's picture

@mhagle

I think we have the makings right here for a signature peach cobbler dish competition! Sounds like a yummy recipe. I love switching things out too. Peaches were a great call on your part.

Now if we could only get handsome Paul Hollywood to preside over the judging Wink

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There is always Music amongst the trees in the Garden, but our hearts must be very quiet to hear it. ~ Minnie Aumonier

mhagle's picture

@Anja Geitz

More cooking. More recipes.

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Marilyn

"Make dirt, not war." eyo

@Anja Geitz
are generally smaller but I remember the ones along the tracks as large, juicy and delicious. Could have been because all things seem larger and better through the eyes of a child though.

Grandma's specialties as I remember them were fresh fried chicken straight from the chicken pen, that was most excellent. And roast beef. Of course they were always served with the best mashed potatoes that I have ever eaten, piles of sweetcorn, sliced tomatoes and every kind of vegetable that a little boy could possibly want. Her gravy was heaven also. She also canned so the garden goodies were present for most of the year. Damn, now I'm hungry.

Thanks zb.

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mhagle's picture

@JtC

Iowa farm food too.

I didn't understand how completely fabulous it was until I grew up, moved away, and came back home. Then I understood I couldn't find better in the most expensive restaurant.

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Marilyn

"Make dirt, not war." eyo

Anja Geitz's picture

@JtC

How delicious that fried chicken tasted straight from the pen. The flavor must've been incredible. Wow.

Meals from our childhood hold such a special place in our memories, don't they? I recently had such a conversation at the store where I work with two elderly women. We couldn't stop smiling as we recounted the dishes that were special to us, each of us singing the praises of our Mother's culinary skills. At one point during our conversation, I noticed another elderly woman listening nearby.

"Some of us didn't have Mothers who were very good cooks," she finally said, bringing the conversation to a screeching halt.

Hmmm...

"Oh, but she must've had one thing she made well" I encouraged her.

"Toast," she said. "She made good toast"

And there you have it. We all have our cherished childhood memories of food. Even if it's just toast. Lol.

Thanks for sharing yours!

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There is always Music amongst the trees in the Garden, but our hearts must be very quiet to hear it. ~ Minnie Aumonier

enhydra lutris's picture

hotel WiFi, wande on over here and ?Que T F? Es el maestro hisself. Thanks very mucho, cowpoke. I met Hoppy once, but don't recall ever seeing any of his work, for me it was all about Cisco and Pancho. I confess that I was a bluegrass junkie for a bit, and still give it a listen some.

Thanks for the look at the man behind the mask. Gotta run, over two weeks out and still hundreds of miles from the coast.

Have a great one.

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That, in its essence, is fascism--ownership of government by an individual, by a group, or by any other controlling private power. -- Franklin D. Roosevelt --

lotlizard's picture

@enhydra lutris  
At the end of the show, “Cisco” and “Pancho” would then — still in character — plug a couple of local dairy products made right on Oahu — pronouncing the names very carefully and distinctly.

“Moanalua Milk! And Rico Ice Cream! You get some too, eh?”

I was so impressed! Big time radio stars knew about us! Local in Hawaii could often feel a lot like what everyone would later refer to as the “Third World.”

It wasn’t until the 1990s, reminiscing, that my brother and I realized how this must have been done. Of course the voice actors hadn’t come to Hawaii and talked to Moanalua Dairy. A business agent at wherever the studio was in North America just handed “Cisco” and “Pancho” a list of stations, products, and businesses who had paid for an ad, with the lines they were supposed to say.

No doubt someone had carefully written “moh ah nah loo ah“ out phonetically.

“Cisco” and “Pancho” then read the whole thing off into — well, into whatever the setup was being used to record the show and, in this era before communication satellites, produce a physical copy that could be mailed off to the radio station in Hawaii.

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@lotlizard

Mahalo, Loti.

*evil grin*

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lotlizard's picture

@HenryAWallace  
“2018 me” lives in Germany.

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WindDancer13's picture

@lotlizard @lotlizard

Given the time that Cisco was on, were you in Hawaii when it became a state?

Lol, nvm...answered by 50s and 60s. That must have been an interesting time!

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We are what we repeatedly do. Excellence, then, is not an act, but a habit.--Aristotle
If there is no struggle there is no progress.--Frederick Douglass

lotlizard's picture

@WindDancer13  
“The Mainland” seemed so far away.

Heck, even the “outer islands” (every island other than Oahu) seemed far away.

Wow, look at that red 6¢ air-mail stamp with the picture of the airplane.

Not just the boring purple 3¢ George Washington all the other letters have.

The airplane on the air-mail stamp has a propeller engine. Jet? Not yet.

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WindDancer13's picture

@lotlizard

Sent by today's airmail. = )

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We are what we repeatedly do. Excellence, then, is not an act, but a habit.--Aristotle
If there is no struggle there is no progress.--Frederick Douglass

@enhydra lutris
I think I may do a few of these OTs at least until the muses pull the leash back or I bore the heck out of everybody.

I was always partial to Rawhide, the early Gunsmoke episodes and Bonanza. And of course Pancho, Roy Rogers and the Lone Ranger a bit earlier.

Happy trails my friend.

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mimi's picture

in case you have time and the appetite to listen to this long conversation...
[video:https://youtu.be/c2ya19uJzZ0]

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Raggedy Ann's picture

@mimi
you were correct - this is WELL WORTH the listen. I need to listen to it about 100 more times. Good call - thanks for the link! Good

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"The “jumpers” reminded us that one day we will all face only one choice and that is how we will die, not how we will live." Chris Hedges on 9/11

WindDancer13's picture

@mimi

While I am not naive about what is happening, the whole picture spelled out this way is truly overwhelming (for me).

I have saved the video and when my spirits are flagging about getting the hell out of this country, I will replay it to remind me how urgent it is that I do.

Thanks . . .I think.

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We are what we repeatedly do. Excellence, then, is not an act, but a habit.--Aristotle
If there is no struggle there is no progress.--Frederick Douglass

mimi's picture

@WindDancer13 @WindDancer13
when I feel depressed and scared, I try to think about 'the unintended consequences' everyone seem to know are sooo bad. Sometimes the 'unexpected' in those consequences is that they turn out to be positive unexpectedly and for that little chance - I think - it is worth to stay and keep on going on.

Be alarmed, but let people know what you think. There isn't something else one can do. If you (and the masses of ordinary cititzens) tell some folks often and long enough that they are pieces of slime and talk like snakes with split tongues and minds, eventually they believe it themselves...and that could be the beginning of change to happen.

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WindDancer13's picture

@mimi

I am planning it for my own peace of mind. There many are countries that are a lot saner (and it is going to get worse and I am not sure it will ever get better) than here, and I want to spend my "golden years" somewhere that has more respect for others.

I do not believe in calling people "slime" or such (with a few exceptions and those tend to be in power). I try hard to understand other people's way of thinking based on my favorite quote: "If you were born where they were born and you were taught what they were taught, you'd believe what they believe".

For a fuller idea of what that means, please see my first essay here:

Republicans (or fill in the blank) are not the enemy.

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We are what we repeatedly do. Excellence, then, is not an act, but a habit.--Aristotle
If there is no struggle there is no progress.--Frederick Douglass

mimi's picture

@WindDancer13
hope to find a saner and safer place than where you are now. My comment was an effort to give you some hope and not to give up. On a second thought though may be to prevent you from another disappointment of finding in the place you hoped to find better conditions to feel betrayed or disappointed again.

I apologize, I shouldn't have tried to influence you in one way or another. Wishing you all the best.

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WindDancer13's picture

@mimi

and all of the countries have one main thing in common. They are all socialist-democratic or democratic-socialist countries. I do not think I will be disappointed. = )

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We are what we repeatedly do. Excellence, then, is not an act, but a habit.--Aristotle
If there is no struggle there is no progress.--Frederick Douglass

gulfgal98's picture

Thank you for stepping out from behind the curtain, even for just a little bit and sharing yourself with us. Your child hood memories sound like good ones.

I remember every year for the first two weeks in July, my family would return to my parents' home town in western Pennsylvania to visit family. This was back in the 1950's when cars were not air conditioned and some roads in the South were not always that great. The trip would take two very long days.

We always stayed with my grandparents on my father's side who lived in a big old house built shortly after the turn of the century which was only two blocks from downtown.. The house is still there and looks exactly the same as it did during my childhood. The downtown is now pretty much abandoned.

My grandmother made all her own bread, hamburger rolls and sweet rolls for breakfast. I could hardly wait to eat some of grandma's wonderful home made bread. We usually would do at least one picnic somewhere out in the woods in the area. And every evening we would sit on the front porch and listen to the Pittsburgh Pirates baseball game on the radio.

Times were so much simpler then. No air conditioning, no tv, no outside distractions, and more time spent with family.

Thank you again for sharing. Your post brought back some fond childhood memories.

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Do I hear the sound of guillotines being constructed?

“Those who make peaceful revolution impossible will make violent revolution inevitable." ~ President John F. Kennedy

@gulfgal98
we all contain a library of memories and experiences, sometimes they flow like a river, sometimes like a tsunami. This OT was a tsunami. I actually loved scanning the old photos and putting this all together. It took a while but it was very rewarding and fun.

Thanks for sharing some of your childhood with us.

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Raggedy Ann's picture

Nice to see you this morning - love the pictures. I have a picture of my brother in his cowboy suit, on his old rocking horse, too, and one with my sister on the r-horse in a parade. I got cheated!

Harpeth Rising is awfully good! Love all the posted music - I enjoy bluegrass, although I was exposed to it late in life. My parents were older, llke being raised by grandparents (I was adopted), mom born in 1908 and dad in 1910, I grew up with music of the 20's, 30's 40's, some 50's. They hated rock and roll and when my brother would play that stuff on the piano, my mom would come out of nowhere to make him stop. We would really get a kick out of that (I was only about 5-6 at the time because my brother was 12 years older than me and their natural child).

Have a beautiful day, folks! Pleasantry

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"The “jumpers” reminded us that one day we will all face only one choice and that is how we will die, not how we will live." Chris Hedges on 9/11

@Raggedy Ann
thanks for sharing your memories. Those photos are really old and didn't scan so well so I was a little disappointed in that.

I know how your mom and dad felt about rock and roll, I feel exactly the same way about a couple of the modern genres, "Hey, you kids, get that music off my lawn"! Although I generally like all types of music the genres I allude to really grate on me. I'll leave it up to you to imagine what those genres are.

Thanks again.

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Not Henry Kissinger's picture

they typically think of urban Chicago, but most of the state is quite rural.

These photos were taken at Grandma and Grandpa's farm house, mid 50's, central Illinois. They were from the hills of Kentucky, not sure when they moved to Illinois though.

Mid and southern Illinois was basically settled by hillbillies who got tired of scratching out a living on the rocky hills of Kentucky and became flatland farmers in the rich, glacier carved floodplains north of the Ohio and Mississippi rivers confluence.

This guy was one of them:

Fun fact: the Illinois and Indiana border closely follows the separation between the Upper Mississippi and Ohio watersheds.

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The current working assumption appears to be that our Shroedinger's Cat system is still alive. But what if we all suspect it's not, and the real problem is we just can't bring ourselves to open the box?

lotlizard's picture

@Not Henry Kissinger  
https://duckduckgo.com/?q=education+hyman+kaplan

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@Not Henry Kissinger
is much much different than the Chicago metropolitan area. Take Chicago out of the equation and the state would probably trend red, I know I'm smack dab in the middle of its redness.

It's a long state. In the northern third you'll hear the typical midwestern dialect, below that and you'll hear a southern drawl, and the drawl gets thicker the further south you travel.

And you're right, a common expression from the downstaters is "All Illinoisans come from Kentucky".

Thanks Night Owl.

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Not Henry Kissinger's picture

@JtC

It's a long state. In the northern third you'll hear the typical midwestern dialect, below that and you'll hear a southern drawl, and the drawl gets thicker the further south you travel.

I'd say Peoria is probably the North/South line, while everywhere south of Vandalia could easily be mistaken for somewhere in Dixie.

Big Klan presence there once upon a time as I understand it.

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The current working assumption appears to be that our Shroedinger's Cat system is still alive. But what if we all suspect it's not, and the real problem is we just can't bring ourselves to open the box?

@Not Henry Kissinger
I'd put that North/South line 30 or 40 miles north of Peoria and yeah, a big klan presence in that area, not all that long ago either.

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lotlizard's picture

Nationwide, if federal election were next Sunday
26 % CDU – Christian Democrats; chancellor Angela Merkel’s party
18.5  AfD – Alternative for Germany; right-wing populists
16     SPD – Social Democrats
14.5  Greens
11.5  Left Party
10     FDP – Free Democrats, laissez-faire-economics party; “liberals” (European terminology)
——
Source (INSA poll released Oct. 1):
http://www.wahlrecht.de/umfragen/index.htm

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janis b's picture

@lotlizard

What coalition parties do you think Merkel would be most satisfied with?

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lotlizard's picture

@janis b  
Probably the latter, since the FDP already turned Jamaica down once.

“Jamaica” and “Kenya“ coalitions are called that because the colors symbolizing the parties match the color combinations on those nations’ respective flags: black, green, and yellow for Jamaica; black, red, and green for Kenya.

However, unless Merkel loses a vote of confidence or the Social Democrats end their current coalition with the Christian Democrats, new elections don’t have to be called until 2021.

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janis b's picture

@lotlizard

wouldn't be a bad combination with the more popular black (CDU).

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mimi's picture

@janis b
is still comfortable with Merkel and who of them accuse her for being the reason that the extreme right AfD is rising. There seems to be an internal revolt against Merkel within the CDU/CSU. Criticism of Merkel from the SPD, Linke or FDP is viewed by most voters a matter of profiteering from her troubles the CDU rebels caused her when they did not vote again for her confidant and longterm chairman of the CDU parliamentary group (party whip?), Mr. Kauder. That was unexpected and seen as Merkel not understanding the base of her party's voters wishes and expectations.

The CDU discusses now, if they should move more to the right to satisfy the populist right as to take those voters, who voted for the AfD, back from them.

Merkel was too human and liberal and centrist for them with regards to the refugees and asylum seekers.

Everything is open and if I understand it correctly, Merkel will have to call for a vote of confidence, before she can go on. The SPD is weak and may be seen as elitist and arrogant as well by many voters. A bit like the Democrats in the US. Lost all touch with real people's expectations. All talk, no walk, and if there was walk, they walked in the opposite direction than their talk would have made you believe.

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janis b's picture

@mimi

I hope it's not too much to wish that Merkel retains her integrity.

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mimi's picture

@janis b @janis b
on moral values is the reason she might fail, and that is shit in my books. I prefer new elections. I don't really know yet enough about all the political types running around here in Germany. Better listen to lotlizard, she knows all about them and has a better grasp of 'the German shadow kabuki theater'.

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Thank you for this beautiful memory. My Mom's family is in part from Illinois, and much of my constant need to find peace in relation to the land comes from her forebears, I think. You've described the essence of that peace so well. Both my Grandmas were born in Illinois, my Dad's Mom in Chicago, where her parents both immigrated as children from Italy. My Grandpas were descended from early Tennessee pioneers and from southern Italy directly to northern California. My Mom's Dad was born in the valley his great grandparents built the first house in (a tiny cabin in 1845) and through him I am a 5th generation northern Californian. My Dad's Italian parents met in San Francisco just before the 1906 earthquake.

So because of their separate and very different migrations west, my brothers and I had the gift of living within walking distance of all 4 of my grandparents, all 14 of my aunts and uncles, and all 14 of our cousins from both sides of our family. We were in each other's faces, we were in each other's laps, we ate together constantly, we trusted each other unquestioningly, we hung out at each other's houses uninvitedly, and fortunately we had a love fest that never quit.

Grandma, my Dad's Mom, cooked dinner for 30 or so people every Sunday, and for a lifetime, all of us, her grandchildren, will continue the endless quest for the recreation of that meal, I mean her spaghetti sauce (nowadays known as pasta sauce) forever. I have actually been to Italy with the search for her secret in mind. It's nowhere, except in her old house in California. Trust me, as you walked up the stairs to her house, you were filled with the aroma of that sauce, plus the cheese, plus pure garlic, or whatever. Never mind, it's gone.

But, what If Grandma had not been the creator of the world's greatest meal? Suppose she had been a normal cook but still had us all over for dinner? It was the being together that really mattered. That's what I feel like we're losing with the emphasis on everyone being a corporate executive and hiring out the raising of children to professional daycare centers. It's the very fortunate family these days who can experience the peace of multi-generational love, unconditional, unprofessional, unwarranted, just plain being there. It's becoming a rare thing. Thanks again for bringing your memories to us, JtC.

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@Linda Wood
thanks for sharing memories of your family, beautiful story. Modern life is destroying the nuclear family to the detriment of the human condition.

I love a good spaghetti sauce, too bad your grandma's recipe has proven to be illusive.

Thanks again.

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Mark from Queens's picture

@Linda Wood @Linda Wood
Imagining your parents meeting in SF at turn of the century is enchanting, as well as the completely different scenario of other family members being among the first to settle in Tennessee. (Ever read Mark Twain's descriptions of his time in SF in the 1860's, or Jack London's, an Oakland native, of the Earthquake? The latter was one of the only times the vivacious writer seemed too stunned to report in his usual way).

But the part about the festive Italian-American custom of family dinners resonates most for me.

I experienced something similar in the Bronx apartment of my grandmother. Same kinds of things I remember as a young boy: the anticipation of the feast as we drove from Long Island over the Throggs Neck Bridge, the aroma that wafted down four floors to elevator door in the foyer, then the gurgle in my stomach and beginning to salivate as we opened the door and piled into the welcoming plate full of proscuitto wrapped around Stella D'oro breadsticks.

Her sauce (or "gravy" as it was known to my father's generation) was legendary in the family. She was the eldest of 10 or 12 kids I think and was pretty much the mother to most of them, taking on the major duties at a young age. Man, she could cook. Always homemade ravioli, or manicotti, gnochi, etc - all laid out across a few ironing boards in the small apartment. During a sleepover when I was young I remember that morning having a feeling of slight nervousness that maybe her genius was just limited to Italian cooking. Not a chance. Her pancakes made my mother's seem comparatively like cardboard.

Part of her family/neighbors-wide famous sauce (which I later learned and can now duplicate, though with a slight change) was the use of lard for richness. Later when my Dad and Mom got more health conscious that was jettisoned. But the rest of the recipe mostly relied on some select browning of meat (sliced pepperoni stick) and using tomato puree and paste. Like the Southern Italians that most Americans are (though I also have family from the furthest Northern point on the Austrian border in the Alps), the sauces we make are similar and can be found all over NYC and I'm sure other notable enclaves everywhere from Boston to Philly, Chicago to Pittsburgh, N'awlins to SF. In a general sense they're heavier than in the North because they rely on meat.

I only make hers on special occasions, and would for friends who would be delighted. But that aroma...Sometimes I think I like to cook so much just for the strong evocations that stir up connection to my ancestors. Anyway, it's also as simple and powerful as just heating up some olive oil and throwing in a handful of chopped garlic or thinly chopped onions and everyone entering has the same exact reaction, bar none: "what are you cooking? It smells so good in here!" Heh.

Now I prefer to make a puttanesca (another S. Italian invention, "puttana" (sp?) being a derogatory word for a loose or "spicy" woman). Mine isn't so much spicy asit is really robust in the rich flavor combinations of the onions/garlic, capers, chopped Greek olives, anchovies, and to really send it over the top, sundried tomatoes and smoked paprika.

But my family is scattered around a bit and for the past two decades have had nothing even remotely close to those wonderful festive Sunday dinners at my grandmother's (though my Aunt would do similarly, but it's a shame there's been such a family fallout). That doesn't stop me from finding any reason to make her sauce on the occasion and be transported back in time. Like with music, food (and by extension sense of smell) have uncanny powers to set one back inside a memory closer than perhaps anything in life.

This whole thing is making me want to visit North Beach again. Too long since I've been on the West Coast. I hope it hasn't changed as much as the Italian marketplace enclave my grandmother took me to in the Arthur Ave. section of the Bronx.

I'm about due for another big Grandma's sauce now that the season has changed and we can hunker down all together here. Nothing better than cooking inside on a cold day and basking in the aroma, warmth and closeness. Want to pass this onto to my little ones someday, though including a relativity to appreciating other cultures' food and customs that we've introduced too.

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"If I should ever die, God forbid, let this be my epitaph:

THE ONLY PROOF HE NEEDED
FOR THE EXISTENCE OF GOD
WAS MUSIC"

- Kurt Vonnegut

@Mark from Queens
Thank you for all of this. Sigh. More than words, I can just sigh. Very recently I made my very first trip to New York City, kind of reluctantly, and to my surprise I just loved it. It seems like a gargantuan small town. And I was aware while I was there that my having read your writing here at c99 over the years was part of what made it so fun, so friendly, and so meaningful. Thank you for all that you do.

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moneysmith's picture

My childhood was almost a carbon copy of yours, just a little farther north in rural Michigan. We had an outhouse, pumped water from the well, raised chickens, and I had a pony (and an Annie Oakley outfit!), although I still cannot figure out how the heck my parents managed to afford it.

Loved the old radio shows, like "The Shadow," "Lone Ranger," etc. We didn't get a tv until I was maybe nine or ten, so I've never been particularly fond of television. Thank dog for the local library, though. Books were my lifeline to the rest of the world, and still are. Dad liked the Big Band sounds of the 30s and 40s, with a little Chet Atkins thrown in, so no bluegrass. But it was mandatory in grade school that we learned to square dance, and later, joined the 4H. Future Farmers of America was a big social group in high school!

I wonder if anyone these days grows up as innocent as we were? My little grand-nephews still live back there, although they are so plugged into their iPads and games, I'm not sure they know or care where they are. Cyber-childhood ... honestly, I wouldn't wish it on an enemy.

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Hell is empty and all the devils are here. William Shakespeare

@moneysmith
when I tell them about the outhouse, even among folks the same age as I. They find it hard to believe that was the case even in the 50s. But, we both can attest that it really wasn't that uncommon back then.

Innocence, is that even a thing anymore? I have doubts.

Thanks for the memories my sister in parallel.

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moneysmith's picture

@JtC Also, very rude of me not to thank you for an absolutely wonderful essay -- so many thanks! Got too wrapped up in memories.:-)

Even with a pump that froze up in the winter and an outhouse, I'm so grateful for those days. And I'll bet we agree on that!

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Hell is empty and all the devils are here. William Shakespeare

mhagle's picture

Lovely essay, photos, and music . . . and the comments following rounded it all out.

Westerns. Lone Ranger. Childhood hiking. Good homemade food. Fruits and vegetables everywhere. Sunsets. Stars. Full moon on the snow. Family.

This essay and thread took my breath away.

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Marilyn

"Make dirt, not war." eyo

@mhagle
I'm glad you liked it. Believe it or not, I thought of you several times as I wrote it. I knew you'd appreciate the values inherent in the simple country lifestyle. It is the essence of resilience.

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janis b's picture

From Robyn’s first calling you Johnny Cakes, I knew that was the perfect name for you. What a sweetie you are. Thank you for the background. It was fun reading and looking.

In search of some bluegrass for you I ran into this little guy. Coulda been you if you weren’t so busy riding horses ; ).

[video:https://youtu.be/mR-0FHesfj0]

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@janis b
Johnny Cakes it is.

Loved the video, thank you, did you catch the name of the young artist? He went on to be one of the great pickers. Ricky Skaggs. That was awesome, I can only wish I'd have that kind of talent.

Thank you my kind friend.

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janis b's picture

@JtC

figuring he must have had an interesting future. Here he is with Emmylou Harris …

[video:https://youtu.be/FO4jZ3pvgNU]

Your Kentucky roots took you in a whole other creative direction. Lucky for us dear Johnny.

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Cant Stop the Macedonian Signal's picture

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"More for Gore or the son of a drug lord--None of the above, fuck it, cut the cord."
--Zack de la Rocha

"I tell you I'll have nothing to do with the place...The roof of that hall is made of bones."
-- Fiver

@Cant Stop the Macedonian Signal
I'd still like to do the "History Of c99p" thing if you're still game.

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Cant Stop the Macedonian Signal's picture

@JtC Game, just continually exhausted. Health's getting better, but just in time to do a flurry of things that have to be done before my partner gets in line for a kidney transplant. One of these days, I hope and pray, I'll have the energy to write instead of just run around doing housework and making doctor's appointments and then collapsing in a chair.

But yes, I'd still like to do it.

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"More for Gore or the son of a drug lord--None of the above, fuck it, cut the cord."
--Zack de la Rocha

"I tell you I'll have nothing to do with the place...The roof of that hall is made of bones."
-- Fiver

smiley7's picture

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@smiley7
my good old friend, I'll try.

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Mark from Queens's picture

Particularly enchanting for this boy having been born in the city and grown up in the suburbs. I have dreams (and sometimes daydream) about places such as how/where you grew up.

Good to see you, Johnny. Got me intrigued with the tunes too. Came around to appreciating some bluegrass and country in my more recent years.

Hope you'll do some more.

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"If I should ever die, God forbid, let this be my epitaph:

THE ONLY PROOF HE NEEDED
FOR THE EXISTENCE OF GOD
WAS MUSIC"

- Kurt Vonnegut

@Mark from Queens
thanks man.

I've lived in the city for a few years (Memphis), but mostly in the country/small towns. I think it really doesn't matter where you live as long as you take a stand and do the best that you can. I can tell from your writings that you're doing exactly that.

Bluegrass is a beautiful genre my friend, it grows on you.

Carry on my brother.

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janis b's picture

What a beautifully tender and affectionate song you chose to play in the background ...

Upon my word what does it mean?
Is it love or is it me
That makes me change so suddenly
From looking out to feeling free?
I sit here lying in my bed
Wondering what it was I said
That made me think I lost my head
When I knew I lost my heart instead
So won't you please read my signs?
Be a gypsy
Tell me what I hope to find deep within me
And because you can find my mind
Please be with me

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@janis b
that song touched me from the first moment I heard it. Clapton covered it in 1974 on his 461 Ocean Boulevard album:

Tommy Talton and Scott Boyer and their band Cowboy wrote the song and included it in their 1971 Album 5"ll Getcha Ten. I much prefer the original Cowboy track, I mean, Duane Allman on acoustic slide guitar, it doesn't get any better than that.

Yep, our 43rd anniversary next Wednesday, my wife deserves a medal for putting up with me all these years, I was a handful in my younger days.

Thank you very much.

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janis b's picture

@JtC

You hinted at that when you once told me the story of going back to the doctor demanding he cut off the rest of the cast you personally started to do yourself! What a lot of nerve you have ; ).

[video:https://youtu.be/NwFiWCUkk4M]

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Lookout's picture

Sorry I'm a day late to the party, but I couldn't resist a parallel picture or two - I fought on both sides...cowboys and indians.
7_0.jpg
Looks like i'm a slow draw - I've got a sno-cone in my hand

1_1.jpg

No idea what I'm trying to rake up there. Didn't really know indians were much on raking...thought they were mainly getting raked over.

Anyway thanks for the stories. I can relate. Happy trails to you till we meet again!

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“Until justice rolls down like water and righteousness like a mighty stream.”

@Lookout
You looked like a pretty tough hombre with the way you tied down those holsters and had them slung low, bet no black hats messed with you, sno-cone or not.

The bottom photo highlights your agrarian tendencies which I know you adhere to. Quite noble as is the outfit.

Happy Trails back at you, my friend.

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mimi's picture

foreign dummies who can't follow all your insiders' cues. I always get jealous if you all understand each other (and seem to know each other personally and with your real names and persona) and I am feeling like like an outsider. (sorry, I pity myself - darn me idiot)

I remember having met my first American and Canadian couples, who were working colleagues of my then husband in 1980 in Italy. The women spouses were very miserable and wanted to go 'home' asap. Didn't understand the people they were able to meet in Europe. I remember that I thought back then of them to be 'homesick to that point of crying and feeling miserable' as a little amazing and weak. I can relate better to them today, because one has to experience several times in life that one actually doesn't understand other folks feelings of other countries and ethnicities. And it needs some 'humbleness, patience and honesty' towards oneself to avoid being an 'arrogant ass'.

Having roots and a home to relate to in your childhood is imo a privilege. There are many children of migrating parents, who never got that. And it turns out to be a possible mental problem, when those children get old.

I believe the urge to create roots anywhere life happens to throw you in (mostly beyond your own control) is always the strongest urge people have. To interrupt them in that attempt, send them back to their "home countries", where they supposedly have a home and roots- according to politicians, who have an interest in getting rid of them, is very cruel and the next generations of children will grow up without roots.

Just saying. It's very kind of you to share some of your roots with us. Thanks again, if I haven't said it before.

BTW I am back at places that were my home and where my roots have been created - supposedly - and I don't feel at home and I don't understand my 'folks' and I am 'homesick' now to what my folks here at my original home never could understand, the new home in a country, they don't understand. So, I am the dummy, no matter what. Smile

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@mimi
I will, eventually.

I know very few people here by their first names unless they have provided that info in their profiles.

And no, you are not a dummy.

Thank you, mimi.

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mimi's picture

@JtC
it's my imagination that fools me to believe that you know each other. Sorry for that.
Those anonymous conversations just play fuzzy with my mind. But what can I say, I like them.
It's my online home, somehow, and that's a nice thing to have.

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Mark from Queens's picture

@mimi

I want to live with you
In the fifth dimension
In a dream I've never had
'Cause I just can't live like this
In a world like this
I just want a kiss goodbye

We are not of this world
And there's a place for us
Stuck inside this fleeting moment
Tucked away where no one owns it
Wrapped up in a haste, and by mistake got thrown away

And oh, I am so homesick
But it ain't that bad
'Cause I'm homesick for the home I've never had

I know I sometimes get annoyed
I know just where I'm at
This is my song of joy
And now I know there are no secret tricks
No correct politics
Just liars and lunatics

We are not of this world
And there's a place for us
Stuck inside this fleeting moment
Tucked away where no one owns it
Wrapped up in a haste, and by mistake got thrown away

And oh, I am so homesick
But it ain't that bad
'Cause I'm homesick for the home I've never had

And though I would not take it personally
It's just the child in me
I never really knew how much I had

And woe is me, I am so homesick
But it ain't that bad
'Cause I'm homesick for the home I never had

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"If I should ever die, God forbid, let this be my epitaph:

THE ONLY PROOF HE NEEDED
FOR THE EXISTENCE OF GOD
WAS MUSIC"

- Kurt Vonnegut

mimi's picture

@Mark from Queens
and that ain't so bad either, good thing to have a home everywhere I go. Smile
Thank you so much.

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