Looking for a song

Unearthing the ghost of Thomas Paine

There were no protests I could get to this week and I found I was missing it. At least I did well on my five things:

1. I found a new noodle joint, cash only so going to the bank was part of getting lunch. I had fun watching everyone build their bowl, tearing up Thai basil leaves and carefully stacking them on the soup with bean sprouts, spicing it up with chili oil, hoisin, and sriracha, squeezing lime on top as the final touch.

2. I read a lot and wrote some, did some administrative stuff, paid some bills, finally got going on a couple big projects I have been pushing off.

3. I found myself muttering a prayer or two for the new pope – rumor has it Pope Leo may be as good for the poor, maybe better, than Francis — it has to do with the name chose, I also saw the comment that Trump is now the second most important American in the world. I guess they were not counting the tariffs or the guns.

4. I went to the de Young with a couple friends and saw some groovy sculptures made by Leilah Babirye, a contemporary African artist, invited to seek inspiration in the museum’s permanent collection. The result was massive, (wo))man size, chainsaw contoured blocks of wood and found materials, braided human hair represented on her figures, for instance, with conduit or knotted up inner tubes. Solidifying another traveling theory. Going to another country to see art that was taken from her country and others in many cases more than 100 years ago, and coming back to her country and expressing what she saw in a completely modern form -- that rhymes with the art of her forebears.

5. I was pretty good with my PT and OT regimen, the fine motor stuff is still a bear, but my balance and strength are better.

And there was even more. Nonetheless, absent protest, absent the opportunity to shout and clap loudly with my fellow citizens, I have found myself casting about a bit. This morning it was in taking particular pleasure watching film of Sen. Chris Murphy of Connecticut, where I lived for three years, excoriate the former governor of another state where I once lived.

Murphy, in his scraggly divorce beard, told DHS Sec. Kristi Noem, coiffed, painted, and botoxed to the nines per usual, that she was overspending her budget, she would run out of money two months before the end of the fiscal year -- and that she was doing it illegally — according to Congressionally authorized budget mandate or Supreme Court decision. She would not say – yes or no -- whether she would “facilitate” the return of Kilmar Abrego Garcia, despite the Senator’s pointing out to her that the Supreme Court had ordered her department to do so in a 9-0 decision. Good TV, that’s for sure. That’s what the Orange Julius wants, right?

Think small. Bit by bit. Nibbles and bites.

I also went out early this morning to get a kouign amann and a good cup of coffee at a favorite little joint on Larkin. I happened to end up sitting next to a table of children, three boys and a girl. She appeared to be the youngest, also to be leading the conversation. They were having a spirited conversation I didn’t quite follow, but it was just a pleasure being in their vicinity. Not at all troubled about the world, except to be clear on when summer vacation starts. It is sunny and warm in San Francisco today. If I can’t yell, I can stop, slow down, and enjoy the small things. Beautiful children and a good cup of coffee. Not bad.

I have seen and heard others searching for protest songs. I hear Joan Baez may have written a new one. I fear that it will not resonate sufficiently with the youth for whom I keep searching for that song that catches the spirit, however. As I mentioned in a past post, Neil Young is out there too, reminding us that “Rocking in the Free World” was in fact a protest song, against Reagan.

I was reminded of another song from across the pond, sweet and poppy, this directed at Bush 43. I appreciate the directness of the chorus, but it doesn’t give me much direction — though as theme song for resistance, it's not bad.

I ran into some decent doggerel in a comment section somewhere online (isn’t it cool that the Resistance at moments can feel like the ghost of Thomas Paine?) And I can’t find it now, thus am unable to give attribution, but if the author by any chance reads this, please let me know. I will be sure to give you credit.

(Sung to the tune of the “Battle Hymn of the Republic”)

They are stealing Granny’s pension/ to enrich the billionaires/ when the Judge said, “you can’t do that”/ Trump said, “Screw you, I don’t care/ “I will follow Putin’s playbook/ and become a trillionaire”/ And DOGE goes marching on.

It has been reported that the Trump family has earned $3 billion in the first 3 months of this regime.

The old can still teach the new

Again, nevertheless. Where is that song? I will go back to 1969. Thinking of all the federal employees, as well as others, school teachers and administrators, for instance, who have stood up against ridiculous directives, most of them around DEI; which, when used by this regime, basically means Black. But it can also mean Brown, female, disabled—in schools, even with learning differences. I have seen some letters folks in leadership and senior administrative positions have posted, saying NO. Across the country, people are taking a stand. They need our prayers and support. We must resist. We must push back.

When we are not resisting, we might perhaps think of simple pleasures, plainly on my mind today. A favorite song of Willie Dixon’s came to mind lately. He has recorded it several times, I know it best featuring Little Walter on the harp, but I will include this one. I like its simplicity.

It came to mind because I recently listened to the wonderful record Mose Allison did about 15 years ago, produced by Joe Henry, who reportedly pulled him out of retirement to make it happen. Henry assembled a great band, with some favorite players (Jay Bellerose on drums, Greg Leisz on guitar and Weissenborn) and picked a dozen songs, half of them composed by Allison, that not only show the artist’s range and capacity, but also speak to the time, then and now. Trump often talks about his big beautiful brain. Here’s a song about Mose’s. You might recognize the tune.

I subsequently listened to all of Mose Allison on Prestige while strolling this week. It is not his best stuff. You don’t get lines like: if you are going to the city/ you better have some cash/ because the people in the city/ don’t mess around with trash. Or one of his best, thinking on that beautiful brain: your mind is on vacation/ but your mouth is working overtime.

Shine on, shine on. Iruptions everywhere

I find out, however, that he plays trumpet. Shoulda known. In this case, he is playing a tune dear to my heart, that I have played and sung with friends before, and one that is particularly well-suited to this time. Not a song of protest; rather, a blues. A blues of the best kind, one that gets sorrow and hope in the same stanza. I’m blue/ but I won’t be blue always/ cuz the sun gonna shine/ in my backdoor someday.

This is where I might have heard it first, it is certainly my favorite. And here is how it is done by the Queen.

I spent some time when Trump was first in office trying to figure out the right music. I settled on Allen Toussaint. I thought he had the right mix of blues and funk, firmly in an American grain, and you could usually dance to it. It still hits for me in this moment, but I find that I have a bit darker turn of mind these days. We still need what Miles Davis used to call that bottom, that rhythmic foundation. But the words on top need to be a bit more insistent. I think Nina Simone fits the bill. This is for Senators Wicker and Hyde-Smith.” You might as well throw in Josh Hawley, Tom Tillis, Tommy Taber, Joe Kennedy, and a few others.

The sun is going to shine. I believe it. Peace, y’all