Rest In Peace, Fontella Bass. The singer – most known for her Aretha Franklin-sounding soul classic “Rescue Me” – passed away at the age of 72 from complications resulting from a heart attack she suffered a month earlier.
Click on photo for Huffington Post obit.
Even as a non-believer, and even with all that the holiday entails (the myths, the inventions, religion), I’ve always adored Christmas. To me, and for me, it’s always been the ethos of the holiday – the carols, the trees, the spirit of love and compassion and the conceptual peace-on-Earth-good-will-toward-men. Naive, perhaps, maybe even foolish; some might proclaim (as I’ve done so very often) that reality dictates it is not love that makes the world go round, but money, greed, hate and intolerance. And, more often than not, they are masqueraded in the religious dogma that, ironically – and speciously – enough, they allege opposition to.
But it is not – and never was, for me – the religious doctrine of the mythology; rather the ideal of the season, and I never let that aforementioned reality imbue my unabashed immersion of Christmastime and the power that rescinds that reality. You don’t have to believe in a virgin birth to hold tight the tenor of Christmas.
Sorta how (Calamities of Nature’s version of) Linus’ soliloquy from “A Charlie Brown Christmas” explains it (click to enlarge):
More specifically, his last paragraph.
For me, Christmas is my love. Christmas is my friends. Christmas is family. Christmas is battling the vampires and dragons to the death for the ones that you love. Christmas is progress, not regress. Christmas is believing, if even for a nanosecond, that perhaps love – and not hate – actually does make the world go round. Or at least our love makes our worlds go round – those fortunate enough to have love, family and friends. Christmas is a community that lends its hands – and hearts – to those in most need during this holiday.
Platitudinous? Perhaps. But I’m not ashamed to own it. The “Christmas spirit” should be the spirit of the “every day.” We are the captains of our own souls and create our own fates…so, we need to be the person who we can actually look into the mirror at. Perhaps be even more than that reflection, not less.
Many, many years ago, once upon a time, when I was a wannabe songwriter and self-proclaimed poet, I wrote this little poem below, and while the innate message is of “hope and love,” this Christmas poem was crafted during a period I call my dark ages – a chapter in my life I look back upon only in abstract awe that I actually ever survived. Perhaps those stories are better left hidden within the storehouses of my soul. But even then, as now – whatever demons resurrect(ed) in my life, I, again, never let them deter my adoration of the holiday spirit, even when it seems an impossible task.
What has made my heart smile over the years is knowing that friends I cherish love this poem. Especially those with children. After copyrighting it years ago, a few years after writing it, I hand-wrote it (ah, the lost art of the handwritten word!) inside the Christmas cards I sent that year and the response was lovely and surprising. It was such a simplistic thing (it actually rhymed!) literally written while on a ten minute walk home from the subway, passing glorious neighbourhood holiday decorations while kids were running around the local park. Yet, throughout the ensuing years friends told me they actually read it to their children! How can my soul not gleam at the thought that my unsophisticated words of optimism in darkness would bring such light to others? I was honored and deeply humbled. As I still am.
And, as uncomplicated as it might be, it is how I feel throughout the holidays…and I share it here because if it can possibly put the smallest smile on a face, then it’s worth sharing. It’s not a monumental work; hell, it ain’t even the opposite of that. It is not of epic proportions. It’s merely guileless and mildly sanguine. But it, simply, is.
I want to wish all my family and friends…near and far, tangible and intangible, a most extraordinary holiday beyond our dreams and aspirations, and a new year filled with promise. Enjoy your days surrounded with people you love. I wish for all who read this – friends, family, strangers – the most magical Happy Holidays. Merry Christmas. Happy Kwanzaa. Happy Chanukah, Happy Festivus. Set asunder your beliefs or non-beliefs, whatever your religious or non-religious persuasions. Forgo the animosity you might imbibe in a world you might find indifferent.
Even for a scintilla of a moment, will it hurt for anyone to just…believe?
Christmas Angel
(a holiday dream…)
Where is the snow at Christmastime?
Where are the songs that I sing in rhyme?
They’re inside your heart and they ring in time
Open your soul…let your soul shine
Christmas angel
Sing to me
Meadowlark
Don’t abandon me
Santa Claus
I need you now
Don’t want the Grinch
Coming around
So I dance in the flight of the snow-white dove
As I swallow the flakes as they land on my tongue
And I carol all night to the ivory and pine
With chestnuts afire…an intervention divine?
While the children playing with the snowman, pleased
Creating snow angels at the trunks of the trees
And I thank you, Christmas angel, for bringing me here
Even Mr. Scrooge, full of holiday cheer
Christmas angel
Sings to me
Meadowlark
Lets me fly on her wing
And Santa Claus has come to town
I knew he’d never let me down
He never ever lets me down
@1998 Sage Song Musings
**********
The odious and ignominious Wayne LaPierre should have just unzipped his pants, pulled out his limp, flaccid cock and pissed on the slaughtered children and their heroic guardians at Sandy Hook.
Masquerading as a press conference with ideas to alleviate such horrors, LaPierre instead regurgitated the same bullshit the NRA always preached. His words were detestable, his facts odious and his logic defined illogic. He’s a madman.
It’s infuriating, to say the least. But it’s a relief that the rest of the sane world all agrees that this man needs a straight jacket. Stat. When Conservative tabloid the NY Post calls you a loon, it’s time to start packing more than just an overnight bag.
The most stinging commentary of LaPierre’s debased logic came from Lawrence O’Donnell on his “Last Word” MSNBC show. Listen and observe the truth:
Oh, and let me be clear – I don’t believe in “banning guns” and do not want the 2nd Ammendment abolished. But the lackadaisical gun laws in this country are a monumental joke – it’s risible that it’s harder and more complex in this country to buy a house or a car than it is to purchase an AK-47. It’s a disgrace.
After this week’s searing, fiery tears of unfathomable horror, I stayed away from FB and Twitter for the most part. I didn’t want to get angry at those who posted incessant streams of religious-themed “prayers” (in the history of the world, prayer has never – ever – helped anything other than the emotions of the one doing the praying) and sickening “heaven has new angels” shit. Unparalleled and unimaginable horror and the slaughter of children can not be made better, even briefly, by treacly (even if well-meaning) mythologies.
But then I saw this.
Whether you watch the Voice, or whether you’re a fan of Blake Shelton, Adam Levine, Christina Aguilera, Cee Lo Green or this season’s contestants matters not (I’ve not seen an episode since Season 1). This was a much needed moment…a simple act of grace in the most agonizing, harrowingly painful 100 hours we’ve had to bear. And it was beautiful. Heartbreaking and beautiful.
Direct contributions may be sent to:
Sandy Hook School Support Fund
C/O Newtown Savings Bank
39 Main Street, Newtown CT 06470
Newtown Youth and Family Services, a nonprofit mental health clinic, that provides emergency counseling for families. All donations made to the organization will benefit those affected. https://newtown.uwwesternct.org/
Newtown Parent Connection, a nonprofit that addresses issues of substance abuse and offers bereavement group counseling.
http://www.newtownparentconnection.org/
I can’t seem to stop the tears. It’s permeating…a brutal blow to the reality that is called living. I weep, along with the rest of the world, knowing that this isn’t the end; that the vampires will thrive and the ogres shall endure to wander this world; and innately good and innocent people – our children – will continue to be slaughtered.
How soon before the demon that possessed the evil Sandy Hook assassin will manifest itself into another infernal living vestibule and carry out more unparalleled, aching horror?
We, as merely mortal Homo sapiens, can only pray to a god that doesn’t exist…it comforts the soul; folklore sooths the agony for many. And that’s okay.
But I immerse myself in meditative thought and music. It may sound frivolous, but not any more so than praying to invisible gods in imaginary heavens.
I weep for the innocent lambs slaughtered by the wolves – I weep. What else is there for me to do?
I go to this piece in times like these…times that too often darken the skies of our world.
So, as you listen, bow your head in remembrance of the victims of this most heinous act – the innocents and the protectors:
Another true Jazz legend lost today. Pianist/composer Dave Brubek left us at the age of 91. He was one of the architects of progressive Jazz movement and released one of the great Jazz albums of all time, TIME OUT, which featured the classic “Take Five.”
Rest easy, Dave~
As someone who staunchly believes that her nearly 20-year old Christmas collection is the album of her career (the only completely – hell, possibly remotely – listenable one), I wasn’t sure what to expect, but what a delightful surprise! Leave it to Jimmy Fallon and the great Roots to add some extra Yuletide cheer by accompanying Mariah Carey to breathe some “acoustic” life into her classic holiday gem, “All I Want For Christmas Is You,” utilizing only children’s instruments and with some helpful harmonies courtesy a quartet of actual children (that added touch could have easily been cloying instead of its resulting sweetness). As someone usually so dependent on porn-star moans mixed with wailing brays, Carey hasn’t sounded so innocently playful – and joyful – in years. I surmise being a new mom can do that to someone.
Only a Scrooge would scoff.
For my friends who are living with it…
For the souls we have lost forever because of it…
Here’s to all your brave and dauntless hearts…
In the most brilliant of days and through the darkest hours…we fight with you…and will continue to fight with you until this scourge – and the blinding heat of hate – is banished, evermore…
We will never forget.
Another legend, gone, but at 91, he lived a full, sumptuous life. And the list of songs he wrote the lyrics for (with his writing partner, the great Burt Bacharach), is beyond staggering: “A House Is Not A Home,” “One Less Bell To Answer,” “The Look Of Love,” “Anyone Who Had a Heart,” “Always Something There to Remind Me,” “Do You Know The Way To San Jose?” “”Walk On By,” “What the World Needs Now Is Love,” “I Say a Little Prayer,” “This Guy’s In Love With You” – I could go on and on and on and on. He’ll always be timeless, alive in his music. R.I.P. Hal David~
My New Boyfriend 