SO IS THIS THE DAY THE MUSIC DIED?

Depressed this week. Why? There’s that darn pandemic but that’s not it, not really. It’s this country. This government. It’s the ‘state of the union.’ You know how you wake up with the line of a song or poem running through your head, a stanza, a chant from your high school cheer (Northome High School, Hats off to Thee…was it really ‘thee’?), your mom’s voice, whatever. This morning it was ‘the day the music died.’ Go figure as we say in not-puzzlement.

I went down to the sacred store
Where I’d heard the music years before
But the man there said the music wouldn’t play
And in the streets the children screamed
The lovers cried, and the poets dreamed
But not a word was spoken
The church bells all were broken
And the three men I admire most
The Father, Son, and the Holy Ghost
They caught the last train for the coast
The day the music died
And they were singing
Bye, bye Miss American Pie
Drove my Chevy to the levee but the levee was dry
And them good ole boys were drinking whiskey and rye
Singin’ this’ll be the day that I die
This’ll be the day that I die
They were singing
Bye, bye Miss American Pie
Drove my Chevy to the levee but the levee was dry
Them good ole boys were drinking whiskey and rye
Singin’ this’ll be the day that I die
Usually Dylan’s my best friend in times of melancholy, sadness, disillusionment…but Don McLean’s with me right now and I’m singing  ‘bye bye Miss American Pie’ and attaching great political/social significance to it.
Guess I’ll write about walks in the bosque later. ‘Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald’ plays between versions of American Pie; that works this morning too. Sad pop from my day. Wish I were in a dark room with a bottle of wine.
Here’s my friend Bob with his t-shirt of hope.

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