Someday inevitably all of the Beatles will be gone and buried but the their songs will remain a treasure of my life. My favorite Beatle is Paul McCartney. I love his song writing and I can tell the difference between who wrote what in a “Lennon/McCartney” song. John Lennon was a great musician but he was defiant- a rebel. He had an almost abusive anger about him which was apparent even in his more tranquil and reflective songs such as Imagine. “Now is the time to act” is the message Lennon wanted to convey. The world is a barren war filled place and we are at its mercy.
“I’m just sitting here doing time,
I’m just sitting here watching the wheels go round and round–”John Lennon
Paul McCartney on the other hand gives me a feeling of sadness but hope. Yes he acknowledges that life is about loss but he is able to recognize that the loss is something that we should embrace as a natural order. In that there is beauty. A trail of comfort can be seen in McCartney songs. He is a healer if not physically then emotionally. His album Flaming Pie was written shortly before his first wife Linda, died of cancer. One of the tracks “Willow” really moves me. McCartney wrote this as a tribute to Maureen Starkey, Ringo Starr’s first wife who died of cancer in 1994.
There are many things to admire in his use of tone. Respect for the power of loss and a sense of control in succumbing to it.
Hey Jude leaves me feeling the same. Written as a comforting verse for small Julian Lennon, the lyrics begin with a poignancy but ends in victory…Take a sad song and make it better. John loved Yoko but it was Julian who was left behind without a father. Paul captured the loss of a young boy touched by divorce and turned it into a lyrical masterpiece.
So why I am writing about the Beatles songs on a political blog? The reason I need music is to cope. Something has to give me hope and strength to carry on through these barren times. The “historic moment” was not enough for me. It never was. Lately I have been taking a much needed break from writing. I did not want to contribute anything negative to an already polarizing political climate. Mother always said if you have nothing nice to say…
Instead I decided to digest in silence my fat healthcare bill meal that was shoved down my throat. Obama and the Democrats were rushing ahead with their gloating while actual people were still suffering. One afternoon, I was riding the bus home from the Art Institute of Chicago. My arms were carrying two shopping bags of gift shop goodies I caught on a 60% off sale. Posters of old Chicago and some decorative Japanese bowls. Nothing I really needed, they just looked pretty and I desperately needed some pretty in my life again. The morning had been chilly but by 3:00PM, my trench coat and tights were itchy from the 68 degree breeze. For some reason my bus card was rejected. I knew I had put ten dollars on it. Kindly, as I was about to dig in the abyss of my Marc Jacobs purse, the bus woman told me to sit down and forget about it. She must have thought I looked pathetic with all of my bags. I was. Not a young girl anymore, aching feet and ready to go home. As we moved down State Street, I shut my eyes while the sun was shining on my face. Mother and I used to take this bus I thought. So long ago when there was no Obama or iPods, just us…
My public moment of solitude was interrupted by two aged men speaking loudly about Chicago politics. Both were decidedly suspicious of everything- as they should be in Chicago. Gossipy tones plagued the bus now as the two “magpies” began a Heckle and Jeckel esque conversation about Obama. They supported him, that much I could tell. Jesus nearly everyone in Chicago did but me. As one man dug a thermos out of his bag and begin to drink, the other gave his monologue on political theory and Obama. Politics is a cesspool and Obama is untainted.
Drinking, magpie #2 just nodded: He is too classy for that Daley shit.
Magpie #1: He is too smart for that…Keep your friends close but your enemies closer…that is the Obama way.
Magpie#2: (Wiping some liquid from his mouth with the back of his hand) Like with his cabinet. That Hillary chick. You know put her in the cabinet that way you can watch her…watch what she is doing… control the woman so she don’t say or do nothing to hurt you later. She ain’t running for nothing now ’cause she too busy with that secretary post.
Magpie#1: (nodding, thin shirt soaked with sweat at the armpits) Yep like I said keep your enemies close.
Afrocity: (rolls eyes).
My bus stop could not have come soon enough. So tired of Obamabots and their verbal Kool Aid droppings. Where is my Ipod? Ugh. One of the magpies smiled at me as I went to the exit door. “Hi sweetie,” he said.
I sneered. Get real Mr. Delusional. I am not attracted to you in this dimension or any other and Hillary is not an enemy of Barack Obama. He is an enemy of us. He is an enemy of women… of the American way and everything our forefathers stood for. He is the cesspool.
I was his government and he wanted to be fed. I was fine with the arrangement. He paid his taxes in affection and warmth for my feet at night. I will pay for his food and healthcare.
Reaching for the cat’s special $1.89 a can grain free, venison cat food (because he is a diabetic), I wondered if my cat were under Obamacare and not Afrocity-care would he be afforded the luxury of premium cat food? Duck, venison, pheasant, along with a raw diet. The can was opened and the cat knew I would deliver the goods. I hummed “Blackbird Singing in the Dead of Night”
“Take these broken wings and learn to fly“
The cat hovered over the dish as I clopped in a hunk of wet venison. He brushed against my hand and began to devour his meal. The cat and I…A symbiotic relationship between two animals. Just like Obama wants it between Americans and the Federal Government.
Autographed Letter Signed,