This is Where I’ve Been

  41 Week Forty-one: The Way It Is Said hey, little boy, you can’t go where the others go “Cause you don’t look like they do Said hey, old man, how can you stand to think that way? Did you really think about it before you made the rules? He said, Son, that’s just the way it is Some things will never change That’s just the way it is Ah, but don’t you believe them — Bruce Hornsby, The Way It Is from the album The Way It Is My friend of some 28 years came with one of her friends to visit us and the Greensboro, NC area where we live. As unlike we two appear (and I mean that literally and figuratively) we are friends. She’s short; I’m not. I’m fluffy; she’s not. She’s a woman, and although I’m not, she refers to me as one of her best girlfriends. She is an ordained Christian minister; I’m about as far from that as is possible. I enjoy an ardent spirit; she rarely if ever does. She’s black. I’m not. We first met when she was appointed as assistant principal at the high school where I was th

  Week Forty: Blank Stares   Oh how do I get you back If I could only seal the cracks you’re slipping through Wish I didn’t feel so helpless when it comes to helping you Hold on So I keep holding on To every little memory made of you and me Every little glimpse of who you used to be I know you’re still in there Deep down somewhere I swear I still see you Between the blank stares — Jay Allen, Blank Stares, from the album Blank Stares I sometimes imagine this life in terms of an endless line of people. When a person is  born, he or she takes a place at the back. I measure the experience on the line by how much closer we are getting toward the front. Those at the very front are excused. When we are pulled from the line before the front is achieved, the result can be devastating for those still waiting. In its own way, my metaphor for life is ridiculous; I know that. It’s the concept of dying too soon that sticks with me. I call that “getting out of line.” Even those who have been on line

  Week Thirty-nine: Behind Blue Eyes …and if I swallow anything evil put your finger down my throat and if I shiver, please give me a blanket keep me warm, let me wear your coat —The Who, Behind Blue Eyes, from the album Who’s Next? On a warm Saturday in July I sat with our dog Leon on a bench provided for old guys or old guys with dogs while our granddaughter, her mother, and Gwaz searched the various buildings of the craft village we were visiting. From my vantage point I could see the tourists coming and going from one building to the other and between them to the petting zoo stocked mostly with goats. Strategically located near the entrance to the goat enclosures was a vending machine swallowing quarters in exchange for a handful of  goat munchies. It was popular to say the least. I couldn’t help but notice one particular grandma who seemed to have an endless supply of quarters, of which she was more than willing to part. She called to her granddaughter who was intent on rushing pa

  Week Thirty-eight: Roy Rogers Sometimes you dream, sometimes it seems There’s nothing there at all You just seem older than yesterday And you’re waiting for someone to call You draw the curtains and one thing’s for certain You’re cozy in your little room The carpet’s all paid for, God bless the TV Let’s shoot a hole in the moon Oh, Roy Rogers is riding tonight Returning to our silver screens Comic book characters never grow old Evergreen heroes whose stories were told Oh the great sequin cowboy who sings of the plains Of roundups and rustlers and home on the range Turn on the TV, shut out the lights Roy Rogers is riding tonight   —Elton John, Roy Rogers , from Goodbye Yellow Brick Road I heard Roy Rogers a while ago and coincidentally just after a discussion I had with our eldest granddaughter about my opinion of Goodbye Yellow Brick Road . My opinion, of course, is that GYBR is Elton John’s masterpiece. Along with lyricist Bernie Taupin, they created start-to-finish, a singular mu