The ink is Black, the page is White

It’s fun to wax nostalgic every so often, especially when you find yourself peering around tomorrow’s corner, alone again; Naturally.

The early ’70’s was fun and raw to me and I learned everything, then, walking around my city. To my young sensibilities the music I heard celebrated what was in my exploratory heart. It was only later, when the grim realities of society bumped my innocence out, did I realize that the music that filled my heart as a yoot wasn’t celebratory at all. Pfft. It’s always politics.

To my 5 year old self, Black & White made me soar and I was awash with community and camaraderie. After all, I was in a city. My friends and neighbors were all different colors, and, on the street, we all loved each other just fine.

I made sure to keep my kids in the city until they were right around double-digits, too, like I was. And they played at the park in the neighborhood. We talked about people wearing a red coat, or whatever, instead of being a color. Which, may be innocent to a four-year-old, but that distinction lends itself pretty well to cementing division later, so, that wasn’t for me, for us.

They knew this song, too…

Just smiles and smiles happier than Brother Louie. ‘She was black as the night, and Louie was whiter than white…’ Fine, big whoop – go meet the parents; ‘man, he had a terrible fight’. WTF?! I loved singing, ‘ louie, louie, louie, loo-weeeeeeeee’ Heh, was catchy. Then, upon finding and playing the album as a teen – WTF?!?! Gone was the catchy, and in was the reminder of the ugly you could walk into wearing the wrong shirt.

But, don’t be bummed, listen to what’s playing…

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I've got this blog. It's named after my kids. So, there ya go.

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