If We Only Have Love

I just signed up here a night or two ago, and here I am making bold to share with you some little bit of myself. It's about me, of course, because I chose not to be known here by my screen name from TOP (DaNang65, fwiw) but to use my real name. Not exactly the one my parents carried me to baptism with, Robert, but the more familiar Bob.

I know, Bob, the butt of a thousand typical white guy jokes. So be it.

For some time now I'd regretted ever having had a screen name. When I adopted it internet anonymity was all the rage. So when I signed up, first at Arianna's hustle and then at Markos', I did what was expected and adopted a nom de web. The first several I chose were so obvious they'd already been taken. After a half hour or so of getting my ideas rejected by the machine, as you might have, I reacted in frustration. I spit out a handle that seemed to me somewhat unique in the Left blogosphere of that time. I claimed myself by a time and place. Da Nang. !965. I'd been there and then. In some ways the most transformative, for better and worse, experiences of my life. Been stuck with it ever since.

The great google machine now gives it back to me as an "aka", although I've never intentionally linked it.

So, it's such a great pleasure to be here where I can use my own name. I hope that turn of phrase rang a bell with you, "where I can use my own name." It did with me. It got me thinking about a great song, by a great singer/poet/songwriter by the name of Jacques Brel. A Fifties and Sixties kind of guy, a Belgian who wrote and sang in French mostly. En Anglais, not at all.

So what we have of him is in translation, except of course, where we have the real thing

Power, passion, they come through. The beauty of Brel's words, to those non-Francophones of us, not so much. Fortunately, perhaps the smoothest voice of the time, Brel's almost contemporary, Johnny Mathis nailed it in English

I'm no Johnny Mathis, nor Jaques Brel. I'm an ordinary human being, but when I came here I felt I could use my own name.

Thank you for providing that space, where I can "use my own name."

Glad to be here!

bp

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Bob Phillips's picture

but the little we are . . . .

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detroitmechworks's picture

so, it's a pleasure to have you at C99.

I chose to keep my old one for sentimental reasons when I came over here. My handle didn't START at TOP, and won't end there. Smile

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I do not pretend I know what I do not know.

Winglioness's picture

Good to see you ! The water is much nicer over here.

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When I saw your post's title, I was immediately reminded of one of my favorite Brel songs, and sure enough, here it is! I'm a happy woman tonight. I'm glad you're here.

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Yahoo

Alison Wunderland's picture

Welcome aboard, Bob.

Dad was a "Bob" and is still the smartest person I've ever known.

I remember enduring through a wave of commercials that featured a hapless boob named "Alan". Forever the clueless one.

You'll like it here, Bob.

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Unabashed Liberal's picture

Pleasantry

(Music City) Mollie, C99P & DKos



Screenshot Of 'Barabas' -- Dual Photo From WP With Caption.png
Visit Us At Save Our Street Dogs (SOSD)

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Everyone thinks they have the best dog, and none of them are wrong.

Miep's picture

I remember you well. Welcome!

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Stay on track. Stay in lane. Don't throw rocks.

thanatokephaloides's picture

This place is kind of like how they sung about the "Cheers" bar: "where everybody knows your name".

And hereabouts people can "know your name" because we keep it kind and we keep it authentic.

Over on That Other Place (TOP) whence you came, only someone utterly barking mad would do that. (And yes, my real name, Sean McCullough, is public info over there. Here, too.)

Blum 3

Srsly, though: welcome, glad you're here!

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"US govt/military = bad. Russian govt/military = bad. Any politician wanting power = bad. Anyone wielding power = bad." --Shahryar

"All power corrupts absolutely!" -- thanatokephaloides

smiley7's picture

A hearty welcome from another Brel fan.

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Martha Pearce-Smith's picture

Like you, when I moved in here, I thought it was time to drop the, as you put it, nom de web (SaraBeth) and go the full name route...I figured, "What could be done to me?" I have little money for some hacker to steal...and if the government wants me, they know where to find me...

So I speak my mind under my own name and to hell with those who don't like it... and it is really pretty nice... Good folks here. Smart ones too. Enjoy!

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Please help the Resilience Resource Library grow by adding your links.

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Alison Wunderland's picture

I've outed myself too... at least as far as I want to go. "AB" is just too good to let go though, and has a long and storied history (easily Googled -- A...B... Hoocoodanode).

What can "they" do, right?

If I ever go down for a felony and they give me Life sentence, I'll say, "Really? That's not much of a threat any more, suckers."

Btw, I have an uplifting comment @ Miep's essay.

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Demandez-vous, belle jeunesse
Le temps de l'ombre d'un souvenir
Le temps du souffle d'un soupir
Pourquoi ont-ils tué Jaurès ?
Pourquoi ont-ils tué Jaurès ?

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"Don't believe everything you read online." -- Epicurus (Greek philosopher, 341–270 BCE)

I do remember you from TOP. Welcome, welcome.
Thanks for the Brel, it was so nice to hear this morning.

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I think you'll like the atmosphere here.For me it's like hanging out around the kitchen table with good friends.

Love
Poets have used many metaphors for love.A rose ,a flame,an arrow,a ball and chain.I would choose the humble dandelion.It's roots are deep and tenacious.It survives in the poorest soil under the harshest conditions.It's seeds are spread far and wide by the slightest breeze.It never gives up.

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Solidarity

Serendipitous. When is was 20-ish (early 70's), I was part of unique traveling Children's Theatre group. We sang this song to close our shows -- I had requested it.

Last night, I remembered this song -- that is, I remembered that we had sung it; I could not remember the words, except a line here or there.

So moving to hear it again, and remember my young self's dreams and hopes for the world.

Thank you.

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I'm a "Bob" of sorts -- my father was Robert Franklin, I carry his name as Roberta Lynn. Kept the old moniker just so it would be easy for folks to spot me and know a friendly face. Glad you found your way here.

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