Howe Caverns, 1973

The darkness in Howe Caverns is absolute. Darker still in memory. 1973. Five years old. In a small boat. Floating down a narrow channel. Between rocks. Under rock. Far underground. A tall man guides us through darkness. Tells tales of the cavern. Tales of darkness. The boat bumps against a thin chain strung from rock wall to rock wall. The ride is over. People climb up onto dry cavern rock. I stare ahead past the chain. Water flows into darkness and disappears into sound. It falls. 1973. Five years old. The sound of a fall into absolute darkness. The end. I know the chain cannot hold. We are all slipping into darkness. The fall I still can’t imagine. The mouth of a monster. And I scream at that unknown. My father lifts me out of the boat. Tells me it’s alright, I’m okay. 1973. He was thirty-five years old. The darkness of memory is absolute. Dad unfastened the chain. Drifted into that darkness. I stand on the dry rock. The sound of falling water whispers through the darkness in a language I still can’t understand. I’ve stop screaming now to listen. 
 

CSN&Y, So Far

Found this at the Books & Melodies for $8 and wasn't sure. I always liked it and think I had it on vinyl as a kid, but I also know I enjoy CSN and CSN&Y but don't stick with them long. Still, there are things in my collection that are good to stumble upon and this is that type of thing. 

The beauty of records is the physicality and how easy it is to run across the unexpected and think, yeah, I want to hear that right now. That sort of thing is too difficult in the digital world. 

The record is surprisingly clean for eight bucks. It sounds just as I remember. Deja Vu man. 

Not Cool, Cool

I was never cool, never popular. I wasn't a major loser, an outcast or anything. I was in the middle where I didn't want to be. Cool people seemed to have better lives. I wanted to be in that group, but saw no way. See, I went to a suburban school where looks, money, and confidence mattered. I suppose they do everywhere. My folks weren't poor, but I wasn't stylish or hip. I wore jeans and t-shirts emblazoned with the names of jazz bands and old rock groups. I wore Converse high tops but they weren't cool, they were average like me. 

It felt like a lesser way to go through life. People had it better and did better. I had it good enough and should have done better, that's how it felt. The cool people seemed better than me. They had more money, but who had a better life? What is a better life? It has only occurred to me in my forties that life is not a competition and to make it so is to lose immediately. I've lived a good life. Dad and Mom were good to me. My brother and I got along better with every year. We had enough money. There was food on the table, presents under the tree, and I had my own room. I had good friends, one of whom has been with me for all but the first month and a half of my life. And I had a great dog. Mine has been a good life even if I've not been cool.  

My life has just gotten better and better. I'm married to and in love a woman I first kissed in 1991. Our two daughters are beyond wonderful. Dad died, and while that sucks, he had a good death with no pain and I still have Mom. My job is good enough and pays well. I'm on the lookout for new adventure. I'm writing. I'm healthy. I have a turntable and a bunch of records to listen to. 

I don't have a Tesla yet, but how important is that? Besides, it's good to want and not have everything. I have enough, probably more than enough. Still, I'm going to see what I can do about getting me a Tesla. There's no way _not_ to be cool with that car. (I'm mostly kidding.)

I wasn't a cool kid, but I've grown to be cool with that. I'm not in search of cool so much anymore. The coolest people don't try to be cool, they just went their own way. They are sure of themselves or at least seem sure enough that they don't have to go along with the crowd. I've gotten to the point in my life when I'm willing to go my own way, to shrug at being out of the mainstream, to understand that it's not at all about how I seem to others. It comes down to how I feel about me. How do I feel? I'm okay and I have the strong feeling that I'm getting better. That's cool. 

American Tradition

Seventeen people died yesterday at a Florida school as a result of a boy, an automatic weapon, and politicians bought and sold by the NRA, a terrorist organization. There will be outcry for about a week, but nothing will be done to protect anyone or anything other than gun owners and their right to shoot and kill. The NRA purchased a powerful clergy of zealots and murders the career of any politician who goes transgresses their creed. Seventeen people died in a school yesterday. They won't be the last victims of the jihad this year or even this month. Hell, there are two days left in the school week and who could be surprised if we have another shooting? The Repubs offer thoughts and prayers but are willing accessories to murder along with every dues-paying member of the NRA. 

But none of this matters. Soon the zealots will claim there was no shooting, that the victims' families are actors paid by liberals in a plot to destroy the American Way. Many  will nod their empty heads while cleaning their guns, loading them, and leaving them unlocked to repel the Obama/Clinton shock-troops surely coming for them. 

That boy in Florida is another American exercising his second amendment right to mass murder. My country 'tis of thee. Was he mentally ill? No more than the Repubs and NRA who cherish guns more than the lives of others. The boy executed our national policy. A gun is for shooting. Target practice is okay, but even the targets are human-shaped. Shooting animals is better. Instead of a mere hole in a target, there's the rush of extinguishing a life. And the highest order animal, the big prize is another human. The AR-15 is designed to bring down dozens in seconds. Does Guinness keep records for such things?

The Repubs and NRA have declared humans in season and there's no bag limit. 

Gun massacres are the law and policy of our land. They are our tradition and to oppose them is unpatriotic. Terrorists try such things, but patriots stand up. They root out traitors and preserve our peculiar traditions and institutions. Lock and load. 

There are always thoughts and prayers, man, thoughts and prayers. They makes it all better. I'm just not sure what we're praying for. Divine intervention? Anything that works against the gun would be seen as the work of Satan. 

Wait a week for a tweet to bump this all off the news. I guarantee it. 

Seventeen people are dead. The rule of the gun, the faith in the automatic weapon will remain unscathed. U-S-A! U-S-A! U-S-A!

I'm going to school now. I'll pass at least one sign demanding a repeal of New York's SAFE act. My representative in Congress will offer thoughts and prayers, they don't cost him anything. When the time comes, he will vote for murder because doing otherwise costs him too much.

Let us now stand as one nation, unholster our weapons, and celebrate our freedoms and school massacres with the singing of our national anthem after which the games can once again begin.