“As I spent more time listening, and really learning the root causes of poverty, I realized I was wrong.”
There was a woman outside of my building at work on Good Friday. She had a sign made from a cardboard box that said, “HOMELESS.” I gave her a dollar; sometimes I’m moved in these situations, and sometimes not, I don’t know why.
I could see the man right behind me with the Look. You know, “Don’t give that woman money. She should be working. Maybe she’s on drugs. You’re enabling her. She may be lying to you.” Or whatever.
Well, maybe, but that’s on her, not me.
And I can just read about what I thought was a revolutionary transformation by an unlikely source: Paul Ryan (R-WI), the Speaker of the House of Representatives. He said, as reported in the religious magazine Sojourners, of his past comments about the poor:
“There was a time when I would talk about a difference between ‘makers’ and ‘takers’ in our country, referring to people who accepted government benefits. But as I spent more time listening, and really learning the root causes of poverty, I realized I was wrong. ‘Takers’ wasn’t how to refer to a single mom stuck in a poverty trap, just trying to take care of her family. Most people don’t want to be dependent. And to label a whole group of Americans that way was wrong. I shouldn’t castigate a large group of Americans to make a point.”
Now some folks, understandably, thought these were cheap words, and I understand that. What actions will come from the budget process? Still, he’s a guy apologizing, when admitting culpability, in this election cycle, has been in short supply.
How long you think that you can run that body down?
February is often tough. In addition to the regular stuff – work, home, Friends of the Albany Library, church choir, et al, there’s Black History Month at church. I had everything arranged, or so I thought, but it never seems to work out as it is planned.
For instance, I had arranged for someone to talk about Black Lives Matter during the adult education hour on February 21. But a week and a half earlier, the speaker had an accident, which I found out because of Facebook. (See, it CAN be useful.)
A few days later, I asked if she could still do the gig, and the Friday before the Sunday class, she wrote that she could not. But she offered me a substitute and told me I’d get that person’s contact information.
Went to my doctor yesterday
She said I seem to be okay
She said “Paul, you better look around How long you think that you can run that body down? How many nights you think that you can do what you been doin? Who, now who you foolin?”
Someone was doing a search for sources of vinyl records and discovered this image. “Damn, if Sonny Rollins doesn’t have a doppelganger right here at Corporate Woods.”
When some network news program comes back from the break playing some old song, there’s a good chance the artist has died. Such was the case for Jimmy Ruffin.
Hanceville to seek a $160K grant for firefighter equipment. “Fire Chief Roger Green asked the council to approve applying for $159,547.76 through the Federal Emergency Management Agency’s (FEMA) Assistance to Firefighters Grant (AFG) program. The Cullman County Economic Development agency will write the grant for the fire department, Green said.” This is in Alabama, BTW.
Dhani Harrison works on keeping his father’ George’s legacy.
In late September, Conan O’Brien devoted a week to the music of George Harrison, in honor of some of his music being re-released. I’ve mentioned before that my realization of how much I experienced George’s loss was much more gradual than the shock of John Lennon’s murder.
I’ve become newly interested in the Beatles song Piggies since its inclusion in a musical review at church. Here’s the Anthology 3 version. “Harrison’s mother provided the line ‘What they need’s a damn good whacking’, and [John] Lennon contributed the line ‘clutching forks and knives to eat their bacon,” instead of the original lyrics “to cut their pork chops.” Here’s Piggies from the white album.
When I turned 50, I could think, “Maybe I still have another half a lifetime left.” After all, the number of centenarians in the United States has been growing. Willard Scott, with whom I share a birthday, BTW, still announces the birthdays of those over 100 on NBC-TV’s TODAY show, as far as I know.
Now that I am 60, though, I have to acknowledge that I’m not going to live another 60 years, even if I move to Azerbaijan and start eating yogurt soup. (And if I’m wrong, which one of you is going to write to correct me?)
I note this, not with melancholy or dismay, but with a certain resolve not to waste my time with X or Y. I’ve already done a fair job in that I’ve largely stopped caring about the negative things people who aren’t friends and family say. It’s not that I won’t complain about them, and in fact, I’m even more likely to do so, probably in this blog; it’s that the anger and frustration don’t consume me, as they once did.
Once upon a time, every March 8 (the day after my birthday), I would play a particular Paul Simon tune. The lyric started: Yesterday it was my birthday
I hung one more year on the line
I should be depressed
My life’s a mess
But I’m having a good time
I played that song annually for 20 years or more. I should get back to doing that again.
There was a woman outside of my building at work on Good Friday. She had a sign made from a cardboard box that said, “HOMELESS.” I gave her a dollar; sometimes I’m moved in these situations, and sometimes not, I don’t know why. 
