In my mind, I should be in a rented car rolling through the thick but manageable summer air in Beaver County.

   Rocking some shorts and a nice Polo style, shoes and socks flung across to the passenger floorboards as soon as my suitcase was stowed in the back seat. Good Lord, I hate having to wear shoes! Out of the airport and rolling down 376 towards Center, Aliquippa, Monaca, Beaver, Chippewa and more points north northeast. Down this four lane monstrosity crossed by other roads that seem to branch off like the veins of a leaf or on the back of my hand, the roads that feed to homes and businesses and shopping centers.

   Across the Mighty Ohio at Vanport and then off this major artery onto one of those smaller ones and into Beaver. Two lanes and some change feeding between houses, row houses, businesses and churches, a cemetery, a park and even the county courthouse. Past one location of the Brighton Hot Dog Shoppe – yes of course we’ll make it to one of these locations and the Housing Authority offices where several of my relations worked at or were based out of. Past Kretchmar’s magical bakery - I’m sure someone thought to get some maple rolls and cinnamon bread for my visit! Down from Beaver, briefly into Bridgeport and across the Beaver and then the climb through Rochester. Through the roundabout, up to the four way stop, the red light at Sheetz – left up the hill, across the Deer Lane Extension, past the school and Shewak’s and the new St. Cecelia’s. Bear right up the hill twisting past houses built almost right against the road or with driveways that fly up at impossible angles that must be hellish in winters. Past Sylvania Hills cemetery and mausoleums where a few of my own are laid to rest – Grandma and Grandpap Sheets and aunt Barb resting in peace. Around the curve where Marion Hill Road comes up from New Brighton, past Bachman’s Garage, signal for the left I’m going to take in the middle of the next curve…

   And then we’re on dirt. Officially it’s 911 address is Schoolhouse Road but to most everyone in our family it’s just “The Lane.” Second house on the right. Unique but unremarkable white block house with some white siding, one car garage and a couple of car ports. But this is “home.” This is my Uncle Richard’s home or “Dickie’s house” now that my grandparents have passed but it is still referred to as “mum’s” or “Grandma’s House.” This is the place a good deal of my Pennsylvania memories have been made.

   This is the place I’ve enjoyed walking in dew covered grass that hides no little sticker burrs that dotted out yards in Texas. This is where I’ve sat on the swing and enjoyed my coffee smelling the grass and clover and listening to the cars and trucks passing on the Route I came in on. This is the place where me and my many cousins chased and captured lightning bugs and played croquet and freeze tag. This is the place I’d hear my Grandfather whistling as he puttered in the workshop or coming up the stairs from the garden. This is the place I’d play dice baseball on the desk in dining room while Grandma whipped up supper in the kitchen. It was here I’d hit and toss the whiffle ball in the back yard pretending the Pittsburgh Pirates once again defeated the hated Reds of Cincinnati.

   I have already written at much length about the kitchen table in this place.

   This is the place I would pop in every couple of years and see my grandparents slowly age, one visit to the next. Noticing a hand shaking lifting a cup of coffee, a little less spring in the step, a body a little more bent. As I noticed it became more important to pay attention and to ask questions. And I tried and I learned and locked some things into memory. And they watched me grow – tempestuous child into bored teen into a grown man [in my own mind] and into a mature person.

   In his famous speech in Field Of Dreams James Earl Jones’ Terrance Mann speaks of a place where it’s as if they’ve “dipped themselves in magic waters. The memories will be so thick they’ll have to brush them away from their faces.” That’s how this place feels to me. Just standing in the drive, looking up I can feel days and nights many decades gone so many times returning to this safe haven. Standing in the kitchen I hear the voices and the laughter of so many loved ones. Standing in that yard I feel the worries of the world being drained from me and the energy and peace of my youth flowing back into me. Truly this is the one place I can totally relax and totally recharge myself. A few days here and I am good again for another year, even with the whipping that modern travel has become.

   In my mind, I have pulled into the drive…

    I hate writing about this stuff but I have to clear my head.

   A friend of mine – or maybe a former friend – parroted [copied / reposted because like so many people today they don’t have original thoughts] a couple of things on The Facebook that disturbed me.

   I will preface this by saying that I was associated with a group that would meet once a month or every six weeks for two or three of years – until the Covid pandemic hit and we were all locked in our own little universes. Since then due to some health issues with various people that were the primary hosts, the group has basically splintered and disintegrated. In a way I breathe a sigh or relief that there was no knock down, drag out over politics.. There was no “Fuck you!”, “No FUCK YOU!!!” screaming match. [Which unfortunately also mean no tearing of shirts off and women wrestling in their bras cat fight either.]

   Now this member always our ultra-conservative in the group which balanced out one full time ultra progressive liberal [with one liberal who was a non-regular attending member]. I am sure there were some spirited yet civil discussions as the more moderate persons kept the balance.

   As a bit of insight, I was a Republican [a moderate conservative but still] for many years but as the evangelicals became increasingly prevalent and the party shifted harder to the right [about 2004] I became less of a Republican and more of a Libertarian. I’m pretty sure I DID vote Libertarian ion 2008. In 2016 I voted for Trump over Hillary. I did not want share her vision of America. In 2020 I voted against Trump specifically on his personality. He did not present himself as a proper person for the office of the President. Corporate CEO, maybe [although his record of bankruptcy says maybe not], President of the United States, no. I saw 2024 as another referendum on Trump again and voted against him. [Which will probably get an FBI file opened on me since I am saying it out loud.] I don’t think he understands regular Americans and I know he doesn’t understand politics but somehow he rallied a populist vote promising stop the inflow and then get rid of the brown people coming to America despite America “not being great” [since we need to make her great again, which Trump failed to do in his first term]. He also told the world that he was going to go after his political enemies. That meant basically anyone who stood up and said he was a crook, a serial rapist and the world’s biggest narcissist crybaby with a martyr complex and that there was no fraud in the 2020 election and he lost fair and square. In retrospect, I kind of wish he had won in 2020 so we would be done with his shenanigans and he could fade into the sunset.

   Anyway, the post in question had [surprise] an aging white male opining that the Left and Muslims were moving to Texas to change voting patterns to turn Texas Democratic and that once that happened “that would be the end of America.” To which someone added “ [There is a] Global Marxist / Communist [plot] using Muslims as pawns to overthrow the governments of the world.” In researching, I believe that this is from a group called that Faith And Freedom Coalition, a conservative advocacy group linking the Tea Party movement to evangelical voters.

   I sighed when I read the headline and the added comment. I should be used to this by now having lived in Texas for fifty years but sometimes the level of ideocracy just gets to me.

   I asked if this person truly believed that. I pointed out that the persons coming to Texas must be coming to fill all of those great job opportunities that the Guv and the legislature has brought in and to fill the jobs that the brown people being shipped back to their points of origin. I pointed out that in order to turn Texas Democratic [“Blue”], those people would have to take over a lot of very, very rural areas that were very consistently Republican [unlikely because that is not where jobs or homes are] and asked why the current group of conservatives is so afraid of dissent or opposing viewpoints. I also reminded them that Texas had been a fairly Democratic state up until the 1984 election. [Democrats continued holding a lot of the state offices until the early 1990s.]

   The answers were pretty party line: “Muslims [the next non-whites to be targeted by The Administration, mark my words.] are here to destroy America, they’re screaming it all the time.” Trump won in a landslide so the people must not have liked the Democrats.” And “I Stand with Israel” – which no one asked about but I am sure links to Muslims wanting to take over the world. Starting by turning Texas back Democratic.

   I sighed again. And “unfollowed.”

   I don’t want to give D.J.T. or his falling all over themselves fawning followers any more foothold in my brain than I have to. I am not going to argue with people who are not open to discussion. I am not about to try to convince someone who has chosen their version of “truth” and “reality” that they may not be seeing The Whole Picture or A Realistic Picture.

   The fact is that the internet has made it so much easier for people to slip down rabbit holes and find these extremist views that resonate with them and then parrot them right back out on social media. And social media given each and every one of them a megaphone to announce what they have found, what new “truth” they have been enlightened to. And when we were stuck inside for most of 2020, it gave a lot of people time to fall down a lot of rabbit holes.

   I recently told someone that the only thing that Trump say that connects with people is
“I believe the same conspiracy theories you do.”

 

    This bunch scares me.

 

   They’re taking their cues from someone who is clearly unstable and obsessed only with power and revenge. And making deals. Not deals that are rally going to help Americans mind you but to say “I made a deal. I did this. I did it. Me. Don’t you love me for it?”

   Sadly, Trump’s obsession with money has him trying to run America like a business and make deals with the world and increase revenue in any way except, you know, allowing his Billionaire Buddy Club to cough up a few more dollars a year in taxes. This now includes trying to whitewash history, roll back progressive hiring and college admission practices and legislating any discussion of gender [as opposed to sex] out of existence. And kill public radio and television. And levy huge “fines” against colleges for Anti-Semitism for “allowing” Anti-Israeli demonstrations on campus.

   And now they want to try and re-run the census. But not count anyone here illegally. Despite the fact that the census is Constitutionally mandated to run every ten years. And that the census is to count all persons dwelling in the United States, including citizens, non-citizen legal residents, non-citizen long-term visitors and undocumented immigrants.

  

   This bunch scares me. The fact that 77 million people thought that this person was the best person to run the country saddens me.

   The Boomers have been allowed to hold on to power for far too long. 70- and 80-year-olds rarely bring fresh thinking and new ideas to the table. But who wants to be a Senator or Congressman now? I don’t blame my fellow Gen Xers for saying “no, thanks.” And realistically, our time is coming soon, too.

 

   This is the strangest point in my life and maybe in American history. I can’t believe the thigs that are happening and yet, these are a lot of things I thought would happen in Donald Trump was re-elected.

     I hope that when historians are looking back at the start of the next century that this will just be an era of one-man throwing shit at the wall and seeing what sticks. I hope that the next elections begin the return the nation back toward moderation and politics back toward a more civil discourse. Yes, I might as well hope that Santa Claus brings me Elizabeth Perkins for Christmas but a man can still hope in America. For the time being.  

 

   I hate writing about this stuff.

   But I have to get it out of my brain. I have to cleanse my soul.

   The political climate of 2025 is the oddest I have ever lived through. Likely the oddest since the 1860s when the failures of the Missouri Compromise came to a head in the election of 1860. For those young children who will not be taught about the Civil War because it paints America in a bad light, 13 states, basically the southern half of the United States split from the country over the issues of slavery. They wanted to continue the practice of one person literally owning another person.

   In an opinion piece on the Civil War Give Peace A Chance: Avoid the Carnage Of War dated 7/1/12, historian David Goldfield points out several issues that seem to apply as much today as in the 1850s and 1860s.

   “Our government governs best from the center and depends upon compromise. By 1861, however, the Bible had replaced the Constitution as the arbiter of public policy,…”

   “In 1858, when Abraham Lincoln ran for the U.S. Senate in Illinois as the Republican candidate, the party cited "The Two Despotisms — Catholicism and Slavery — Their Union and Identity. Self-righteousness eroded the vital center of American politics.”

   [One could frame the argument that the immigrants / refugees from Latin America today pose a second wave of a “Catholic Invasion,,” the first being the 1 million Irish Catholics in the 1850s fleeing the potato famine. Catholicism of course a great threat to the predominance of Protestantism in the United States. And of course the rise of Islamic refugees fleeing desots and chaos in the Middle East.]

   But I have wandered off topic here, sort of.

   These are undoubtedly troubled times. There is the strange mixture of the cult of personality surrounding Donald Trump and this doubling down by the extreme Right currently holding sway in Congress and the Supreme Court seeking to return the nation to the 1950s – before the Civil Rights Movement, Gay Liberation, Women’s Lib. The “Good Old Days” before we began questioning the way history was portrayed.

   It strikes me so funny that the United States was formed to separate ourselves from the whims of one person [i.e. the British Monarch – I say person because although George the III was currently in power, there would be queens again as the monarch.] and yet he whole Republican establishment and “Conservative” movement seems willing to follow the whims of this one person. One can’t help but wonder what will happen when President Trump is no longer in office. I mean his term will expire and he is Constitutionally barred from running again – not that that will deter him or sone other from attempting it. And the man is 79 years old, he’s [probably] not going to live forever.

   But for the first time in my life, I am truly scared for my country.

   Since it is now almost a capital offence to disagree politically, I have taken to hiding my truest opinions. My social media account only hints at the deep despair and fear I am feeling for this nation.

   I am greatly concerned that the damage that the Make America Great Again [MAGA] movement is and will inflict on this nation by the President’s bypass of Congress via Executive Order and by his packed Supreme Court carrying the water for an shift from Moderatism to Ultra-Conservativism will take decades to undo.

   This fiscal damage will likely never be undone. Besides the continuing shift of wealth to the super rich [despite claims that “we do not redistribute wealth” by some], the additional deficit spending and addition to the national debt will continue to erode the confidence in the United States and the dollar. I am sure China is very ready and perfectly willing to become the new monetary center for the world for the rest of the 21^st century.

   I let all of this get to me a couple of days ago. I am [was] reading Miles Taylor’s 2023 book Blowback: A Warning to Save Democracy from Trump's Revenge. Taylor pretty much calls the playbook that the President is running to centralize power in the Executive or more specifically the Presidency. I knew from Bob Woodward’s Fear: Trump In the White House that Mr. Trump would not repeat the mistakes of his first term. His first priority would be assigning people who were loyal to [or too scared to oppose] Donald J. Trump. Not the Constitution, not God and Country, not the Republican Party. He would want absolute Yes Men anywhere he could place them. And lo and behold…

  The passage of the President’s budget [aka “One Big Beautiful Bill” or “One Big Fuck You To the Common Man”] was the straw that broke me. I am not [currently] in need of Medicaid or SNAP assistance but the withdrawal of $ 700 billion dollars in funding  to those programs [scheduled to not take place until after the 2026 midterms of course] is going to be devastating to the states. Adding 3 trillion to the debt which is currently at 100% of GDP is not going to be healthy for our economy in the long run.

   But most people aren’t looking a year or two or ten into the future. They’re concerned with gas and food prices today. They want to feel that someone is doing something about people crossing into America illegally – except Congress actually fixing he immigration policy. They want to think that erasing DEI and LBTGQ alphabet soup and “whitewashing” history will somehow swing America back into being a majority white and God-Fearing Christian nation again.

   Of course that’s not going to happen. But of course, just like the 1960s, old white men continue to try and legislate away, compartmentalize, and marginalize what they do not understand. Stuff the toothpaste back into the tube.

   It’s been over 65 years – three generations and some change – since John F. Kennedy announced that the torch has been passed. It’s been a little over 30 years since the Boomers took over the White House [Joe Biden was actually a war baby born in 1942 but close enough]. I don’t see anyone of my generation who seems ready to or that I would want to be in charge. Ted Cruz? Ha ha ha ha ha ha!

   Mom says that her grandparents expressed it, I heard Grandpap lament it [every time I see two men kissing on TV or see a commercial for pubis shavers / groomers, I feel Grandpap roll in his grave] and I guess it’s just my turn to say it. We are living in the end times.

   But I do not think e are on the verge of the Second Coming of Christ. I think we ae watching the slow decline of the American … Era? The American Republic? I think our time as the world’s leader is coming to a close.

   And the saddest thing is we will do it to ourselves. Through alienating our closest allies and trading partners and possibly even withdrawing from our military alliances [NATO and SEATO]. We made Canada mad. CANADA! The most polite nation in the world! Even if we do not withdraw from those alliances, we have done immeasurable harm to decades of respect and trust between nations and trading partners that may never be fully healed.

    I’m sure I’ll have more to say even if I don’t think anybody is listening.

   Remember this is just my opinion and it’s worth what you paid for it.

 I really hate talking about this stuff and I'm sad as hell that I have to point out the obvious.

14TH AMMENDMENT:
SECTION 1: "All persons born or naturalized in the United States, and subject to the jurisdiction thereof, are citizens of the United States and of the State wherein they reside. No State shall make or enforce any law which shall abridge the privileges or immunities of citizens of the United States; nor shall any State deprive any person of life, liberty, or property, without due process of law; nor deny to any person within its jurisdiction the equal protection of the laws."

Plain and simple. It's IN the Constitution.

If the Republicans or Democrats or any mixed block of folks in Congress want to strike / repeal this part of the 14th Amendment to the Constitution, the rules are set out earlier in the same document. But the Executive Branch is not given the power to cut out or disregard the parts they don't like. The oath of office does not say "I will will to the best of my ability, preserve, protect and defend the Constitution of the United States except the parts I don't like."

Of course, Mr. Trump did NOT place his hand on the Bible during his inauguration, so maybe his swearing in wasn't legal. Or maybe that's why he feels he is not bound by any oath he "swore" to. Like having his fingers crossed.

Here's the video:
https://youtu.be/iqyYqY95QZY?si=V5GQ_30RtxKmyzrh


If you think that no birthright citizenship would only apply to the children of non-citizens, you might need to think again. If you're not automatically a citizen upon birth, then how do "They" decide who is or is not a citizen? What if the party in power suddenly decide that people born in "Blue" states are no longer citizens? Think they wouldn't? They're threatening to withhold California's federal money even though California pays in more than they get back. How do you think Oklahoma and Alabama survive if California decides to stop sending that $ 80 Billion [pays about 690 Billion / receives 610?

What if we must all swear a loyalty oath upon [or in the case of us over 18, retroactive to] our 18th birthday and must now carry our citizenship papers at all times? One the one hand I'm glad to have a "National ID" number other than my "not to be used for identification" Social Security number but the downside far outweighs that benefit.

What if they want to "chip" all citizens so that we can just hold our palm up to the ID scanners we use for everything now. We're suddenly in the cashless society but you have a chip in you like you might put in your dog or cat...

Am I being a little over the top? Sure. Maybe.

But the sudden idea that birthright citizenship does not exist opens the door to all kinds of things. Be careful what you think you want.

What I really don't understand why this "by the Constitution" Supreme Court wants to let the Executive bypass the Constitution and reign by executive fiat. Well, I do but I'm holding out hope that they will still uphold the Constitution in the end.

But I am damn disappointed in them right now.

 

The Real Twilight of the Gods and the End of the Rock Era

 

   On June 11, 2025, we began the real slide into the end of the Rock Era.

   The passing of the Beach Boys’ Brian Wilson is going to begin a long run of obituaries and tributes to the ladies and gentlemen who shaped The Rock Era. And I say The Rock Era, not the Rock & Roll Era because there truly is a demarcation line of the Rock & Roll Era and the Rock Era. Partially thanks to Brian Wilson but mostly because of the Beatles. And a little bit of Bob Dylan.

   1966 is [to me] the year that Rock broke away from Rock & Roll. One might consider 1965 being that late in the year we had the release of Dylan’s masterwork Highway 61 Revisited [8/30/65] and the Beatles’ Rubber Soul [12/3/65] and I will have to admit that it’s a fine, fine line and a good argument. Personally, I feel Dylan’s more major influence of the direction of rock & roll was introducing the Beatles to pot but Highway 61 is a true 5-star perfect album.

   But the line in the sand is truly drawn in 1966. The Beach Boys Pet Sounds [5/16/66] and the Beatles Revolver [8/5/66] are so far and away from what anyone else was doing that they pushed little ol’ Rock & Roll into something new. Something way beyond little three chord I love you and I want to hold your hand ditties. Now personally, I am not a big Pet Sounds guy. Yes I can appreciate the Beach Boys magical harmonies [in bits] and I get that Brian Wilson was pushing the boundaries of rock, rock & roll and music in general with that he was laying down. But it’s just not what I like.

   But I’ve gotten a little side tracked here.

   The fact of the matter is that the great musical artists who built the music industry into the mighty machine that it was late in the 1960s and through the 1970s and mid 1980s [when giant multinational corporations began buying up record companies and parts of mixed media empires ala Time-Warner] are starting to die. And it will be several years of opening up the paper – excuse me, logging onto the Wikipedia recent deaths page – and gasping about another favorite passing on from this plane.

   Despite our going jokes about what kind of world we are going to leave the prime examples of “what don’t kill ya just makes ya stronger,” [Keith Richards, Willie Nelson and Iggy Pop – who the hell had Iggy Pop making it to 50, let alone 78!!!] all of these people who have graced our ears with their output are going to return to the dust from which we have all sprung.

   Oh yes, there have been victims of accidents and “live fast, die young” lifestyle choices and a few like John Lennon caught out in the wild by the unbalanced and silenced in terribly tragic ways. Some of the great and nearly great have already passed. Tom Petty [2017] accidentally overdosing at 66. Charlie Watts [2021] rocked for over 60 years to the age of 80. Ric Ocasek [2019] at 75. Jon Lord [2012] of Deep Purple was 71. Robbie Robertson of the Band [2023] was 80.

   We mourned David Bowie at the “tender” age of 69. But the tributes and accolades and memories that poured out for Elvis himself in 1977, Lennon back in 1980 and Bowie in 2016 [2016! ALMOST ten years now!] will seem miniscule the days and weeks following Paul McCartney’s passing.

   Ah, now I think you understand.

 

   Let’s look at it this way. I’m now 58. Ringo Starr is 84. Paul McCartney is 83. The Glimmer Twins / Rolling Stones Jagger and Richards are 81. That’s the original British Invasion bands. Robbie Krieger and John Densmore of the Doors are 80 and 79. Grace Slick [Jefferson Airplane / Jefferson Starship] is 85. That’s the Summer Of Love. Sly Stone just passed at 82. John Fogerty of CCR is 80. Carlos Santana is 77. That’s Woodstock. Jimmy Page is 81. Robert Plant and Ozzy Osbourne are ‘only’ 76.  Aerosmith’s Toxic Twins Steven Tyler is 77 and Joe Perry is 74. Bruce Springsteen is 75. The Eagles Don Henley and Joe Walsh are 77.  Heart’s Ann Wilson is 75, sister Nancy is 71. Peter Frampton is 75. That covers Classic Rock. Punk icons John Lydon / Johnny Rotten and Mick Jones [the Clash] are 69. Elvis Costello is 70. How about MTV bands? The average age of Def Leppard is 63. Duran Duran: 64. Pat Benatar is 72. R.E.M.: 64. U2: 65. Billy Idol is 69.  Metalheads! The metal god Rob Halford is 73… but Judas Priest stared in 1969! Nikki Sixx is 66. James Hetfield is 62. Dave Mustaine is 63. Scott Ian of Anthrax is 61. Axl Rose is 65 and Slash is 59.

   You know what else? A LOT of these people / bands are still out there doing it. Maybe some are even doing it well. The Rolling Stones, Mick and Keith and Ronnie still worked a crowd and sounded as good as they did when we saw them in 1994 – when they were ‘old’ at 50. Which “Really This Is It the FINAL Final Tour, We Mean It This Time” is the Who on now?

   It’s what they do. Maybe some do it for money. I assume part of it is that once you feel the energy of an adoring crowd, that’s a high you continue to need. But mostly, it’s what they do. And some of them die out there, found in hotel rooms unresponsive. A few may go out right on the boards – it has happened. Col. Bruce Hampton, Johnny “Guitar” Watson.

   Of course, my point is that all of them are going to pass away – although some may outlive some of us. There will always be photographs. There [likely] will always be records or CDs or whatever the next physical media the remaining Big 3 can talk us into replacing our Zeppelin, Stones, Dead and Beatles catalogs with the latest and greatest new thing.

  

   For myself and the likeminded people blessed [or cursed] by a heightened love of vocal or instrumental sounds (or both) combined in such a way as to produce beauty of form, harmony, and expression of emotion [music], little atoms of our soul will turn black with mourning as our “heroes” pass into the ether. Or perhaps they will become brighter luminations. Who knows?

   What I do know is that the passing of each one will place one more mote of the nostalgia for the better, carefree days of youth more firmly into the past. Of course I will always have the music – I have a substantial library from which to draw even as I move away from the physical media of records and CDs. And should those libraries be corrupted and lost, burned or buried I have the little MP3s deep inside my own grey matter. Those little memories that have me drumming Superchunk drum patterns on my desk late into evenings at work, Those hidden corners from which The Earworm throws the most unexpected things like Summer Nights [yes, from Grease], Fish Heads, Clint Holmes’ gawdawful Playground In My Mind or Tom T. Hall’s The Year That Clayton Delaney Died.

   In those same corners rest memories of summer days in state parks in West Virginia or my grandparents basement. Memories of the first time a song made a connection in my mildew smelling first bomb of a car. The first time I saw MTV, first concert and many more nights after that. All the times music has helped me work through teen angst, or a bruised heart. All the times a song represents a night with someone special or something special happened. All the times I have the words of a song to try and express what I am really feeling. All the times I have been cruising aimlessly to or from work and a good song helped me put the work day behind me.

   That’s what the music means to me. And as the names of the people who made the music that I have connected to slowly disappear to memory and history, I will be saddened a little by each one from the mightiest singer to the lowliest backup singer. They all contributed something which is more than I can ever say for myself.

 

   You know I make these car CDs for two reasons. One, most radio sticks to narrow playlists of a couple hundred songs and the time frame they chose from has shifted from “My Era” [1967 – 1996] to the late 90s and early aughts. The music I didn’t get then and I still don’t get today. The second reason is that I’m trying to recreate the radio of the 70s and 80s as I half remember, half wish that it was. Did I ever hear Crack the Sky, the Joe Perry Project, Johnny Winter, Terry Reid, Michael Nesmith, Utopia or Delaney and Bonnie on the radio? I really don’t think so. But on my car CDs where I am the D.J. [and “I am what I play…”], they do. Alongside the lesser know cuts of Jefferson Airplane, Deep Purple [all 4 eras], the Steve Miller Band, Queen, David Bowie, Talking Heads, Cheap Trick, et al.

   I'm hanging onto a past that may not have really existed. I am nostalgic for a past that never really was but I shape it the way I wished it was. I think a lot of us look back to the past through some sort of rose-colored lenses. But a wise woman once told me that "Rose colored glasses do not come in bifocals because no one wants to read the fine print in dreams."

   And even though I don’t drive as long or far as I used to, it’s nice to still have my music with me. It’s comfort food for my soul.

   “A full cup of coffee, a full tank of gas, an open road and a real good idea is all you’ll ever need. So tip you bartenders, tip your friends, tip your mom and remember, life if too cheap to drink short wine.”  - Kevin Kinney

 

I started this a few weeks back and it just kind of ground to a halt, but with todays news of Sly’s passing, I wrapped it up. As a side note, tonight the Florida Panthers are killing the Edmonton Oilers 5 – 1 in t game 3 of the Stanley Cup Finals, so I would be again searching for something interesting to watch…

Sly Lives!

   The Florida / Carolina hockey game is over before it’s even begun. After the Panthers scored their third just shy of 16 minutes in, I just said “well that’s done. Now what am I gonna do?” So I go to the Hulu home page looking for something. No. No. No. Ugh, no. No. No. Mmmmmmnnnnnn, no I don’t think so. Oh!

   I had been seeing the box cover or whatever you call that… icon for Sly Lives! It’s Questlove’s movie. I mistakenly thought he did the We Want the Funk PBS Independent Lens documentary. [It was Stanley Nelson and Nicole London.] It’s Thursday, it’s re-runs season, let’s take a look.

   The story is the story – talented young man rises up seemingly out of nowhere, is on top of the world for a split second then it all comes crashing down. Is it an inspiring tale? In some ways, yes. You have to be who you are and do what you want to do and that’s how you make it. Is it a cautionary tale? Yes. When you get to the top, is it going to be what you think it is? If it’s not, how do you deal with that? Then there’s the subtext: as a black man is there more pressure on you when you succeed and do “They” cheer louder or laugh harder when you fall?”

   It’s a good show. It was worth the two hours to take it in.

   But what hit me – I was listening, really hearing the music again for the first time in a while.

   It took me back. I’m 10, maybe 11. Somehow I came across Sly & the Family Stone’s Greatest Hits [1970] in mom and dad’s records. And it just knocks my socks off. Pound for pound 12 absolutely stunning Sly & the Family Stone tracks. All time party album, right? There’s a lotta funk, a buncha movers and groovers and a couple slow burners for getting close to your honey. Even if you don’t dance [and I do not], how can you not be knocked out by the tightness and the groove when I Want to Take You Higher comes boiling out of your speakers. Greg Errico’s drums are right on, [at the time I wanted to be a drummer and I was just knocked sideways by Errico’s drumming, especially when Stand! goes from the main part into the breakdown 2:15 in. Rufus Thomas copied that breakdown for 1971’s The Breakdown.]. Larry Graham’s fuzz bass rolls along like the muddy Mississippi. Someone comes in: “Beat is getting stronger…” [it’s hard to tell the difference between Sly and his brother, guitarist Freddie]. Then those horns start throwing out those short little lines as the chorus kicks in. Cynthia Robinson and Jerry Martini are absolutely key to the Family Stone sound. Is it any accident that Joe Cocker’s Mad Doggs and Englishmen had that horn section of Jim Price on trumpet and Bobby Keys on sax? It is no accident that the Stones brought those two in to punch up Exile On Main Street. If you’re gonna borrow ideas, borrow from the best!

   It is not exaggeration to say that the bands medley of Dance To the Music, I Want To Take You Higher and Music Lover is THE highlight of the Woodstock movie. Sly in purple wrap around shades and that white jump suit with the purple vest and white fringe flying everywhere when he moves is just a visual that has to be seen and of course the music can get a dead man moving. As a band, this is as high as it’s going to get and it’s captured for eternity.

   We go from the boiling funk of Higher down to the low key single Everybody Is A Star. Everybody is the proof of the pudding. Each line is sung by a different vocalist. [I do not believe drummer Errico or sax player Martini were vocalists.] It’s just a low key reminder that we are all individuals and we all have our talents and skills that make us unique and to celebrate that. Next is Stand!, another reminder that there are things we all have to do if we’re going to make it – as a person or as a society. [“Stand /There's a cross for you to bear / Things to go through if you're going anywhere / Stand / For the things you know are right / It s the truth that the truth makes them so uptight”] Fun is just that… a fun little funky number. No muss, no fuss, just “put a smile on your face, leave that bummer behind.” Life has a purely circus / carnival feel that belie the serious lyrics. You Can Make It If You Try channels James Brown so well I’m sure James said “When did I write that one? Am I getting royalties on that?”

   Side 2 opens with PROBABLY Sly’s best known song Dance To the Music. The irony is that it was crafted more at the instance of record company president Clive Davis for something more commercial than their first album A Whole New Thing had been. It really is a prefect representation of their mixing rock, psychedelic and funk and it certainly caught the ear of the public. Even now, almost 60 years later, as soon as it comes on it just demands your ear. It’s followed by Everyday People. Everyday People owes as much to the Stax sound as Dance owes to Motown. Dig Larry Graham’s pulsing but amazingly simple bass line pushing the whole thing. Again, simple message – we are all in this together so let’s get past all the hang ups. [“I am no better and neither are you / We are the same, whatever we do”] Next is the amazing single Hot Fun In the Summertime. Again, amazing interplay between Greg Errico’s drums and Graham’s amazing walking bass lines under some amazing harmonies by the band. M’Lady … M’Lady is really hard to explain. Sing A Simple Song the opposite of Life - a very complex riff with some very simple lyrics. The album closes with Thank You [Faletinme Be Mice Elf Agin]. This may be the finest example of Larry Graham’s slapping bass [where the bass pops instead of holding notes]. I must have just found this record because I used on of the verses of this song for something they were discussing in music class, which is how I remember it was 5^th grade - my only full year at Foster Elementary.

   Whoever sequenced this record took care to make it flow. It was not pieced together in chronological order not just slapped together, someone really thought about this, which is pretty unusual for a Greatest Hits package.

 

   CAUTION: The Essential Sly & the Family Stone uses a different mixes for Thank You [Faletinme Be Mice Elf Agin] and Hot Fun In the Summertime. The Thank You mix adds horns in all the “wrong” places and there’s extraneous vocals and the bridge is not ‘”phased”… obviously, I do not dig it. I actually found the original Greatest Hits mix on Amazon and that’s the mix I use for my CDs. If one is only going to own one Sly and the Family Stone album, I obviously suggest this one with the full knowledge that because it was released in 1970 it misses 2 GREAT songs, Family Affair and If You Want Me To Stay. They can be found on the 1981’s Anthology set [2 PL / 1 CD] but I don’t think that set flows as well as Greatest Hits does.

 

   News came down today [6/9/25] that Sly has passed. It’s just a coincidence that I  happened to see the documentary so shortly before his death but I am glad I had a couple of days just digging those hits that are so well loved. I hope in those years he was out of the public spotlight from  1983 to 2011 that Sly found the peace of mind to reconcile that for one moment he and his band were one of the hottest and best bands in the world and found a way to deal with The Legacy of being both Sylvester Stewart and Sly Stone.

   I was not aware that Sly put out his memoirs back in 2023 but I will be keeping an eye open for that in the library, as well as former DJ and J. Geils Band frontman Peter Wolf’s.

    Anyway, thanks for the music Sly. Rest In Peace.

 

One Last Sunset

 

One last sunset

One day it happens to us all

There really is no endless highway

There is no beginning without and end

A lifetime is always forever

Yet it’s also just the blink of an eye

Depending on one’s perspective

 

   Everything ends.

   Seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, years, songs, albums, books and movies, Ina twist or irony, The Never Ending Story ended, those lying bastards! Kansas opined that “nothing lasts forever but the Earth and sky” but that’s wrong. Sometime in the next 2.5 billion years our star Sol will run out of fuel and grow into a red giant and destroy the Earth. In layman’s terms, that’s about the time they will finish working on the freeways around here.

   There a likely a google [one followed by 100 zeros] of words written about endings. Most of the words are probably about relationships ending or lives that have ended. But I have a few to add.

   As noted earlier this year, Mom is moving out of the house she has occupied for the last 44 years. Well the deadline is here. Barring something going terribly wrong, as of Monday May 19^th, 2025, it will belong to another family.

   On the one hand it is ‘just a building.’ Someplace you keep your stuff while you’re out making money to go and buy more stuff. But of course it’s also more than that. For 16 years it was my home. The front bedroom was “my room” even if it remains “Chaz’s room’ or ‘your brother’s old room’ to the immediate family. The place where I slept, listened to music, read, watched TV, played guitar and did NOT do my homework. There are of course many other memories. The time my parents went to Pennsylvania for a weekend and I had a few friends over and scratched the table playing quarters. The volleyball party where the lines were defined by weed eating them into the grass. Certain young ladies writing on my car windows in lipstick – but they did leave me a donut. The large contingent of people crowded in when they came to town for my sister’s wedding. Grandma and Grandpap Sheet’s last trip to Texas to meet their newest great grandchild, Shelby. “Vegamatic!” 31 games [“No mercy at the card table”]. Of course so many holidays, a couple of graduation parties, 40^th birthdays… they’re just buildings but they’re homes because of what happens inside.

   It’s mostly empty now. Surprisingly, it’s had very little work done. The master shower was redone recently more out of necessity than desire. Wallpaper, carpet, tile, paint. But no other major renovation. It hasn’t truly been empty since we moved in in January of 1981. Right now, knowing it is the last time or almost the last time, it just seems to be empty shell. All of the things that made it a home are now somewhere else. The only thing remaining is the ghosts / memories that I have brought with me.

   I am on the porch with a chair and a tall boy watching the sun sink into the trees that marked the edge of “The Berry’s property.” They haven’t been there for a couple of decades but it’s still The Berry’s just like it’s Chaz’s room.” A rain cooled breeze swirls and eases some of the humidity. The sun and the clouds are cooperating. It’s an incredible ongoing mix of reds, golds and purples as if God himself has ordered up one last spectacular show just for me.

   And really it is. Think about that. Each moment of our lives passes and it is gone.

    Some few are captured in photographs or whatever this digital business is called or burned into memories [based on our own perspective, of course] but like most of the 2.5 billion heartbeats in an average life, the moments pass without being noticed or cataloged. Of course right now I have a head full of memories fighting to surface right now.

   My dad, he doesn’t give a fuck for nostalgia or the past. It’s just the way he is. But Mom is sort of nostalgic and my sister and I get that from her to varying degrees. I felt I had to have some private time to look around and have one more sunset. One last run up Russell Lane although at a much more normal speed than I used to race down it when I was a teens. The poor neighbors had that white dust covering their yards every time I went up that road. Surprisingly that straight six Duster [irony] did a fair rip up that quarter mile. The V-8 Caprice… it might not have been old school Detroit muscle but it could move when you stomped it.

   I’m watching the sun fade one more time. I hear a train in town. It’s comforting and familiar and sad because “they” have silenced the train horns as they go through Fort Worth now unless some dipshit is trying to beat the train. The train will roll on to God knows where. I think that the engineer may never look out his window in wonder at the sunset and contemplate that no two sunsets are the same. Not even if one was at the same exact spot at exactly the same time every day.

   As I take the photos [which just do not get as dark as it is outside, I don’t know if it’s a filter or what] and feel the breeze I think about the trees that were here but are now gone. I laugh at the hedgerow Mom put in to block out the neighbors that moved in after the Hendricksons moved to wherever. I remember summer days riding the tractor around cutting the grass. How many times has the grass been mowed?!? I remember the old tin shack, red painted one stall lean to put up by my dad and me and Uncle Bill and I look at the ‘new’ barn… what a difference.

  Finally, it’s time to go. One last pee, sho\ut off the lights and close the garage door. One last sanely slow trip down Russell to the county road and then… well I had to run some interstate miles to clear my head after this little nostalgia trip

 

   In ten years, we [the family] will refer to this house as ‘the place over on Russell.’ In twenty years, it will just be “the place your grandmother lived when she was your age.”  In fifty, MAYBE a photo of the place one of Shelby’s children’s great-great grandmother lived. In a hundred years, the Galupi name will just be a name on an old paper deed or a digital file in the tax records.

   Will the house still be standing? The barn? What will it look like? Will the current “occupant” have any idea of how for 40+ years a family lived here, loved here through all of the good and bad, happy and sad and the memories that come with a lifetime? Will one of them look out over the trees and wonder at how every sunset is slightly different?