THE DEAD "SEE"

NEWS ITEM "WASHINGTON, April 28 /Prancer - On July 3, 1999, a monument honoring the lives of the estimated millions of African men, women, and children who died en route to and at the hands of transatlantic slavery between the 15th and 19th centuries will be lowered onto the floor of the Atlantic Ocean, 427 kilometers due east facing Africa off New York's harbor. (Five replicas of the Monument will be created for placement on land in the regions of the world historically linked to transatlantic enslavement, namely Africa, the Caribbean, Europe, North America, and South America)."

It even surprises me to learn that I have not been able to work up any enthusiasm over the above proposed memorial. And it has less to do the inevitable process of getting older and/or getting jaded. My sentiment(?) were the same years ago when there was much talk about the restoration of the Watts Towers. (The restoration, by the way, although scaled back, has moved forward.)

In this particular instance, I question putting a memorial at the bottom of the the ocean the Horrible reality of the Middle Passage notwithstanding. This would be a classic example of "out of aquatic sight, out of social/political/economic mind." Ellison aptly coined the phrase "the invisible man" and there is ample evidence even now in June of 1998 that Black people are "invisible" in America. That impossible-to-believe plight is in no way relieved by placing something (anything!) beneath the surface of the waters offshore. So, it’s the specifics that I contest.

Some time ago there was talk - a genetic flaw? - about a memorial to slavery [ or perhaps it was a memorial about slavery] to be erected in Jamestown, Virginia. I found/find that to be most appropriate. Americans are visual people. It’s got to be seen to be believed. It is no mere fluke that Jews press for "In you’ face!" Holocaust museums and related reminders. Though all to many of their friends, family members, casual acquaintances, and professional colleagues literally went up in smoke, they won’t allow the memory of them to do the same. We should be ever so obvious!

And surprising even myself, I am not so cooled to the idea because of the cost involved. Most assuredly I could devise a list of other, more fitting uses to which the eventual funds could be directed. That argument means little these days. The amount of $ waste is so phenomenal as to be mind-blowing. Waste is a way of life. The classic example is the absence of any wholesale shift of defunct (or at least dwindling) military spending be rechanneled to worthy social or educational endeavors. Not about to happen in this century or the (upcoming) next one either.

The dead already see the living. We need to see them in special, ongoing ways...and ocean currents don’t meet the need.

POP USED A POP GUN, BUT...

I made an unsuccessful attempt to start this commentary with something about the famous Springfield Rifle. What I was seeking was a touch of irony connecting the rifle (i.e., its name) with the Oregon town which was added to the list of tragic sites of teenage terror. At one time that latter expression would have been an ad man’s (ad person, these days) enticement to read a story, watch a particular movie or purchase a video. Now, however, it is all too accurate.

A young [we even ask what that means] man of 15 years "went on a rampage," killed one student and wounded many others. He will be tried as an adult because of a recently passed law in that state.

So adult discussions and sometimes disgust shifts from "babies having babies" to "babies killing babies." One of my all time favorite movies is "The Killing Fields." I never expected such a bone-chilling title to be so domestically applicable.

The formula response and aftermath are becoming all too commonplace. Pictures of chaos, parents in shock, youngsters in shock - although not as much as their parents, SWAT teams too late to do any swatting (thankfully!), a battery of crisis counselors [ a new cottage industry?] flocking in from who knows where? and media personnel asking real stupid questions of student - like ABC’s ("Good Moanin’ Y’all") Kevin Newman inquiring of a high school teenager, "Was it hard for you to sleep last night?" followed by the equally inane, "How many hours of sleep did you get?"

But perhaps all of this simply cannot be bypassed. There are "things" that we the so-called living are "destined" to do in the wake of social dysfunction of this nature. We do it because we don’t know what else to do. And yet there is something else to consider...another way of looking at our search for answers. Since ideally the answer follows the question, it could be that tragedy repeats itself endlessly, hopelessly is because we fall into the "Why?" trap. We are always asking "Why?" Only the "perpetrator" can respond; but because of our individual or collective grief, the answer is never a fitting one. If Kipland Kinkel tells the world he was/is depressed, angry, confused, drugged, sleepy, bored or simply experimenting, it’ll make for interesting reading and/or psychological reading, but it won’t bring back those he killed. His own parents are dead and two students as well.

Perhaps a better road to travel is the one which informs us about the HOW of what occurred. In an all to brief exploration, we learn that he had access to guns. They are legal, accessible and indisputably deadly, as well they are designed and intended to be. That does not mitigate K.K.’s actions for which he will and should "pay" a heavy price; but it pulls many others into the equation. Guns by themselves certainly do not kill people any more than alcohol basking in a bottle on a shelf or cigarettes securely wrapped in an unopened pack kill people. The "How" is always the application. And in this dark dungeon of dialogue without definitive action, we all bask in varying shades of guilt.

Pop may well have used a pop gun when he was young. His son or grandson vies for the real deal...with tragic results.

SINATRA SANG HERE

It was a long time before I realized that "Old Blue Eyes" and one Frank Sinatra were the same person. Perhaps that was because when I first saw him on television, the family’s BLACK and WHITE set didn’t make that distinction. Then again, I was attracted to the man’s voice and not his dog gone eyes! He may have been cute or handsome or who knows what else; I simply liked the way he sang...without really knowing why. That was part one for me: the dude could sing!

There was something else I found peculiar. I knew about the young girls who did a strange thing when they crowded the stage (at New York’s famed Paramount Theater) during a Sinatra concert. They - here’s an old time word - swooned. I couldn’t believe it. And with a growing mind that was forever looking for smart answers to unbelievably dumb questions, I just couldn't put it together. Comparing that aspect of the good old days with the good new days, I’d say swooning was a lot safe than tossing members of the audience around.

A couple of days after Sinatra’s death, I found myself listening to a static-inflected and infected Dayton Ohio AM radio station which played his music all night long. At least they said it would be all night. I copped out at 3:30 am. AM radio? Static? I must be losing it.

I look at Sinatra the same way I do two other all-time favorites: Nat King Cole (who might better have been referred to as King Nat Cole) and Billie Holiday. Switch: There’s a over used line in a rap song that instructs "Wave your hands [or is it arms] like you just don’t care." Well, Sinatra and Billie both sang like they just didn’t care. Accompaniment was neat and complimentary, but not necessary. They also sang in a manner that - at least to me - suggested that an audience was also not a requirement. And if there was one, either a concert hall, a small night club or cabaret or park bench would do just fine, thank you. They were true balladeers with talent, a message and an attitude.

Cole was smoother and more endearing. He went a step beyond Sinatra in not so much prompting swooning - which he may have done, but I’ve never heard about it - as soothing both the male and female savage beast. I heard a jazz commentator call his voice "silky" and I think that’s true. But reflecting on his music, I would contrast Nat’s [yeah, I can call him Nat] "silk" with many of today’s singers’ "sap." By this I mean they are so electronically smooth as to be vapid, sterile...especially many of the young vocalists. Anyway, back to real music, there was the whole element of real or suggested romance in Sinatra and Cole’s singing {Lotte pain in Billie’s] and one could imagine a man actually chanting or making a good try at it - those sounds to a damsel in or out of distress. Even if love wasn’t in the air, it sure as heck was in the music. Was it politically correct or appropriate? Gee I hope not!

Finally what I liked about Sinatra’s style was his weaving all around the musical notes that were on the page. Corny as it is, his did it his way - he sang his way, and maybe lived by the same code. Never having seen him live in concert or in any other up close and personal setting, I can’t really say I’ll miss him. Just like reestablishing the wonderful attachment to Nat and Billie, it’s a simple matter of putting on a 33 1/3 LP and struggling nostalgically through the wobbles and scratches.

WEDLOCK 101

Governor Chills of Florida is reportedly supporting a bill that will require all of the state’s 9th graders to take some kind of relationships course. The intent is to give them the kind of information which will (hopefully) preclude latter day divorce, family abuse, etc. The legislation is presumably prompted by national statistics.

Detractors are raising the expected points of opposition. One, that the schools are already saddled with more than their share. True. Second, that the current cadre of teachers are on emotional overload. Also true. Third, that other entities (home, church, civic groups) have a responsibility. Right again. It turns out however, that some of the best "things" that happen in the lives of growing children happen at school. They make friends, experience early life successes and, alas, learn new ideas about the phenomenon we call life.

Another point of opposition was that the earlier identified problems of contemporary family life are not precluded simply because of a required 9th grade class. The world hasn’t experienced any fewer troubles because of the efforts of good institutions and their attendant good people.

Well, I happen to think that the effort makes sense although the focus is somewhat off. There should be less concern about the kinds of spouses/lovers/companions will be as adults than focusing on how they relate to one another NOW...as 9th or 10th graders. Think about it: Many of them think that they are now in love. I heard a pre-12 year older talk about "my woman"! It’s laughable until one learns of the demands these agile and immature minds spew forth. When teenagers kill one another over love affair (?) gone sour, a course is not only fitting, but very much overdue.

The home is always the best defense and offense so long as there are adults present who have pretty good sense themselves. But that is not always the situation. Being a parent does not guarantee sanity. #

 

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