View of Lower Sabino Canyon and the Tucson Basin from Phoneline Trail — Panorama by kenne
On a clear day Rise and look around you And you’ll see who you are. On a clear day How it will astound you That the glow of your being outshines ev’ry star.
You’ll feel part of ev’ry mountain sea and shore. You can hear, from far and near, A world you’ve never heard before. And on a clear day… On that clear day… You can see forever and ever more!
— from On A Clear Day You Can See Forever by Burton Lane and Alan Jay Lerner
‘Drove My Chevy To The Levee’ (Bisbee, May 18, 2012) — Image by kenne
I started singin’ bye-bye, Miss American Pie Drove my Chevy to the levee, but the levee was dry Them good old boys were drinkin’ whiskey and rye And singin’ “This’ll be the day that I die This’ll be the day that I die”
The November 13th posting, “Chevy Bel Air Taillight Art” took me back to a June 1, 2009 posting, “We Have Lost Another Piece of The Pie.”
We Have Lost Another Piece of The Pie
“. . . bye-bye, Miss American Pie. Drove my Chevy to the levee, But the levee was dry. And them good old boys were drinkin’ whiskey and rye Singin’, ‘this’ll be the day that I die. “this’ll be the day that I die.'”
In the Don McLean song, “American Pie,” he wrote about “the day the music died,” referencing the 1959 plane crash causing the deaths of Budd Holly, Ritchie Valens, and The Big Bopper. Now it’s the Chevy’s (GM) turn to test destiny.
These were also the days when “See the USA in your Chevrolet” rang through the head of many a young boy, such as I. The first car that made me aware that I was hooked on cars was my grandfather’s 1945 Chevy. My first car was a 1950 Chevy, followed by a 1953. Emotions are the makings of the human experience. What would life be without feelings, without passions, whether short-lived, or life-long?
A part of me has always been a “car guy,” struggling with the other me (like a marriage), resulting in an intense love affair to this day. As with all relationships, the thrill of driving is about closing the gap. Connecting with a car is not about becoming one but about maintaining identity while always seeking to close the gap. Even though the evidence that GM would file for bankruptcy has been apparent for some time, today’s formal filing still came as a shock. Chevy and GM will live on, but an age has died – another piece of the American pie. Now we are singing:
“. . . bye-bye, Miss American Pie GM drove to the Feds But the Feds exposed their lie. And them good old boys were still Drinkin’ whiskey and rye Singin’, “this’ll be the day that I die. “This’ll be the day that I die.”
We Have Lost Another Piece of The Pie. As Michael Moore recently wrote, “It is with sad irony that the company which invented “planned obsolescence” — the decision to build cars that would fall apart after a few years so that the customer would then have to buy a new one — has now made itself obsolete.” For the “car guy” in me, I experienced a real blow to my psyche. The pragmatic me is saying, “it’s about time!”
The “car guy” would now like to share a couple of blog posts over the last couple of years:
Soul of a Car
Signs of age Tell the story Miles on the gauge Count the glory
Now at rest In the shade Once the best Of the fifties decade
There is a key Only to a past Now rest free At long last
A rusty door A broken fan blade Longing for more Feeling only frayed
Having a heart A few remaining horses Seeking a start From special forces
Old cars can rust But never the soul Covered with dust Stuck in cruise control
Moving On…
How do you measure the worth of a “driving machine?” Miles? Miles per hour? Drive-ability? Reliability? Attractiveness? Safety? Maybe all these.
But the real worth of the 318i that I bought, September 1983, and sold, September 2007 can only be measured by those intangibles by which we measure passion.
It is not my nature to dwell on the past, but parting with something that was an extension of my very being was not easy. If there is one image that reflects more than a third of my life, it was this little BMW.
… A long, long time ago I can still remember how that music Used to make me smile And I knew if I had my chance That I could make those people dance And maybe they’d be happy for a while
… But February made me shiver With every paper I’d deliver Bad news on the doorstep I couldn’t take one more step I can’t remember if I cried When I read about his widowed bride Something touched me deep inside The day the music died
… So, bye-bye, Miss American Pie Drove my Chevy to the levee, but the levee was dry And them good ol’ boys were drinkin’ whiskey and rye Singin’, “This’ll be the day that I die This’ll be the day that I die”
You know that old trees just grow stronger And old rivers grow wilder every day Old people just grow lonesome Waiting for someone to say, “Hello in there, hello”
So if you’re walking down the street sometime And spot some hollow ancient eyes Please don’t just pass ’em by and stare As if you didn’t care, say, “Hello in there, hello”
— from Hello In There by John Prine
As a Veteran and an old person in general, I’m trying hard not just to fade away — “Old soldiers never die, they just fade away.” Like many people my age, we are familiar with the line in General Douglas MacArthur April 19, 1951 farewell address to the U.S. Congress. A great line for a General but not for older people. I, for one, am not ready to just fade away.
As older people, we experience daily the looks of people we may come in contact with, and in their eyes, we have already faded away — they stare straight through us. In the last decade, I have seen more doctors than in the total of my eighty years, and just once, I would like, “Hello in there, hello.”
Hey hey, my my Rock and roll can never die There’s more to the picture Than meets the eye
Hey, hey, my, my Out of the blue and into the black You pay for this, but they give you that And once you’re gone, you can’t come back When you’re out of the blue and into the black
Just like the white-winged dove Sings a song, sounds like she’s singing Ooh, ooh, ooh Just like the white-winged dove Sings a song, sounds like she’s singing Ooh, baby, ooh, said ooh
And the days go by, like a strand in the wind In the web that is my own, I begin again Said to my friend, baby (everything stopped) Nothin’ else mattered
He was no more than a baby then Well, he seemed broken-hearted Something within him But the moment that I first laid Eyes on him, all alone On the edge of seventeen
Just like the white-winged dove Sings a song, sounds like she’s singing I said ooh, baby, ooh, said ooh Just like the white-winged dove Sings a song, sounds like she’s singing I said ooh, baby, ooh, said ooh
‘Hold Tight’ — Oil Painting in Black and White by kenne
Hold tight Hold tight If you wanna make this feeling stay Hold tight Hold tight Don’t let this moment fade away Hold tight Now tears gonna stay Everybody gets the chance someday Call it once it last you think you’ve got it made Not a word that anyone can say That can change the way you feel Cause you know that love is real You can choose within you fall in love Anybody any moment any way ‘Cause no matter who you chose There’s a chance that you might loose Gonna the best that I can do Hold tight
— from Hold Tight by David Romani / Davide Romani / Mauro Malavasi / Paul Adrian Slade
He had a blue wing tattooed on his shoulder Well, it might have been a bluebird, I don’t know but he’d get stone drunk and talk about Alaska The salmon boats and 45 below
Well, he got that blue wing up in Walla Walla and his cellmate there was a Little Willy John and Willie, he was once a great blues singer so Wing & Willie wrote him up a song
Another Glass Of Wine My Dear (April 5, 2007) — Image by kenne
Have Some Medeira, M’dear
She was young, she was pure, she was new, she was nice She was fair, she was sweet seventeen. He was old, he was vile, and no stranger to vice He was base, he was bad, he was mean. He had slyly inveigled her up to his flat To view his collection of stamps, And he said as he hastened to put out the cat, The wine, his cigar and the lamps: Have some madeira, m’dear. You really have nothing to fear. I’m not trying to tempt you, that wouldn’t be right, You shouldn’t drink spirits at this time of night. Have some madeira, m’dear. It’s really much nicer than beer. I don’t care for sherry, one cannot drink stout, And port is a wine I can well do without… It’s simply a case of chacun a son gout Have some madeira, m’dear. Unaware of the wiles of the snake-in-the-grass And the fate of the maiden who topes, She lowered her standards by raising her glass, Her courage, her eyes and his hopes. She sipped it, she drank it, she drained it, she did! He promptly refilled it again, And he said as he secretly carved one more notch On the butt of his gold-headed cane: Have some madeira, m’dear, I’ve got a small cask of it here. And once it’s been opened, you know it won’t keep. Do finish it up. It will help you to sleep. Have some madeira, m’dear. It’s really an excellent year. Now if it were gin, you’d be wrong to say yes The evil gin does would be hard to assess.. Besides it’s inclined to affect me prowess, Have some madeira, m’dear. Then there flashed through her mind what her mother had said With her antepenultimate breath, “Oh my child, should you look on the wine that is red Be prepared for a fate worse than death!” She let go her glass with a shrill little cry, Crash! Tinkle! it fell to the floor; When he asked, “What in Heaven?” She made no reply, Up her mind, and a dash for the door. Have some madeira, m’dear. Rang out down the hall loud and clear With a tremulous cry that was filled with despair, As she fought to take breath in the cool midnight air, Have some madeira, m’dear. The words seemed to ring in her ear. Until the next morning, she woke in her bed With a smile on her lips and an ache in her head… And a beard in her lug ‘ole that tickled and said: Have some madeira, m’dear!
Fishing Boats Docked at Galveston Bay, Texas — Image by kenne
[Verse 1] Sittin’ in the mornin’ sun I’ll be sittin’ when the evenin’ come Watching the ships roll in And then I watch ’em roll away again, yeah
[Chorus] I’m sittin’ on the dock of the bay Watching the tide roll away Ooo, I’m just sittin’ on the dock of the bay Wastin’ time
[Verse 2] I left my home in Georgia Headed for the ‘Frisco bay ‘Cause I’ve had nothing to live for And look like nothin’s gonna come my way
[Chorus] So I’m just gonna sit on the dock of the bay Watching the tide roll away Ooo, I’m sittin’ on the dock of the bay Wastin’ time
[Bridge] Look like nothing’s gonna change Everything still remains the same I can’t do what ten people tell me to do So I guess I’ll remain the same, yes
[Verse 3] Sittin’ here resting my bones And this loneliness won’t leave me alone It’s two thousand miles I roamed Just to make this dock my home
[Chorus] Now, I’m just gonna sit at the dock of the bay Watching the tide roll away Oooo-wee, sittin’ on the dock of the bay Wastin’ time
Oh… (CHORUS): Shrimp boats is a-comin’ Their sails are in sight Shrimp boats is a-comin’ There’s dancin’ tonight Why don’t ‘cha hurry hurry hurry home Why don’t ‘cha hurry hurry hurry home Look here! The shrimp boats is a-comin’ There’s dancin’ tonight (Shrimp boats is a-comin’, there’s dancin’ tonight)
: They go to sea with the evenin’ tide And the women folk wave their good-bye (There they go… There they go) While the Louisiana moon floats on high And they wait for the day when they can cry…
: Happy the days while they’re mending the nets ‘Til once more they ride out to sea (There they go… There they go) Then how lonely the nights will be ‘Til that wonderful day when they sing…
: Happy the days while they’re mending the nets ‘Til once more they ride out to sea (There they go… There they go) Then how lonely the nights will be ‘Til that wonderful day when they sing…
Becoming is Superior to Being 