Monday, July 30, 2012

"Chávez, No, Chavez!" - a poetic solidarity

Cesar Chavez speaks to farm workers in Imperial Valley, California in 1979
Photo by Steve Fontanini, Los Angeles Times


Chávez, No, Chavez!
by Mike Marcellino

Only way I could remember this day
was to hold on to cryptic Jesus.
Two words,
all wrapped up in
two words,
cryptic Jesus.

Though it was Sunday, I didn't start out for church,
not right away.
On the way to the beach,
stopped for a beer at Jack's -
a real watering place,
a maze of old low slung
white chipped painted wood
reminding me of Sherwood's Forest
where we drank Saigon tea
with the enemy back in another day.

On the beach it was already threatening.
Right away I encountered a bearded young  surfer
with long tangled black hair
and a goatee.
Waving his one arm," he screamed at question toward me.
"Is it a tornado?"
Looking at me as if I would surely know.

"Where are you guys from?" I asked, curiously.

The three crazy surfers, boards under hand
stood, dying to paddle out.

"Did you see the life guard twirling his red flag,
jumping down from his high wood chair,
blowing a whistle?
That didn't seem to impress them.

"Can we go in the water,"
the three amigos looked at me,
anxiously, waiting for my answer.

"Did you see the life guard twirling his red flag,
jumping down from his high wood chair,
blowing his whistle?"
I appealed to the three amigos again.

"Where are you guys from?"
I asked again to change the subject.
"Venezuela." he said, still wanting to go in the surf.

Rain splashed down in gigantic drops
pelting the three amigos and me.
First north, then south, lightening bolts flashed down to the sea.

Then, the first amigo told me he saw a funnel cloud.
"Over water?" I asked, that perked my interest.
"No, over land, not the sea."
That was enough for me
to pack up, head for some safety.
This looks just about like the truckload of United Farm Workers
who arrived on our picket lines on July 4, 1973
at the onset of our strike against The Painesville Telegraph

"Venezuela?  I said in a puzzled tone.
"I always get mixed up.
Far as I've been is Mexico.
Is that shuh-vez (Chavez)?"
I asked, knowing the answer.
"No, chah-vez (Chávez)," he shouted out,
but not angrily.

"Cesar 'chah-vez' was the leader
of the farm workers in America.
For the union!"
I shouted above roar.





"I know cause he sent me a hand written letter
and a bunch of his farm workers
loaded in a truck
to our Fourth of July strike in 1973
for solidarity.
They walked the picket lines with us
outside the Painesville newspaper plant,
along Lake Erie, in eastern Ohio.

"A farmer worker read his letter
right in front of the reporters and TV for all to see.
I wish I still had the letter from Chavez
but I think I know what it would say -
something about...the 'unjust conditions...
'dignity and solidarity,
 forever.'"

Painesville Telegraph newspaper building sign in 1969

"It's 'chah-vez," he insisted.

I doubt very much the smiling amigos
from South America
had ever heard of the Chavez
from North America.

Oh, no, by now the blue grey black
thunderstorms packed with lightening
was looking like the space ship that covered
the capital in Independence Day, the movie.
"Cryptic Jesus," I muttered to myself,
trying to hold on.

"Holy Mother, Mary, sweet Jesus,
I am a mixed up, lost


Episcopal
blond haired boy
turned Presbyterian
raised Catholic.

"What do I know,"
I said to the three amigos, starting on my way.

"Cryptic Jesus, Cryptic Jesus," I finally said out loud,
hoping not to get struck down instantly.

"Where's the VFW dance hall when i need it?"
I wondered, as my mind lapsed 
back to a wood shack on the west side of Cleveland
surrounded by hundreds of Harleys
moonlit shining silver.
After all, it was 
the Hell's Angels, 
Viet Nam Vets Motorcycle Club
bikers night.  
"cryptic Jesus, cryptic Jesus" 
"What happend to Crazy Ed?" 
was all I could think to say.

Remember the lettuce and grape boycotts
all over the USA?
My Chavez,
no little squiggly thing over the "a"
(like the president of Venezuela)
organized 50,000 field workers from California
to Florida by the late 1970s, so
our 100 strong Typographical Workers
was ahead of its day.
And, I do wonder if we hadn't had
the United Farm Workers help
the Teamsters woulda turned back the trucks
filled with huge rolls of white printing paper
and us peons would've won our better pay.
(We didn't know that a turf war
broke out between the two unions
not long before,
but we were young and pure.)

The other Chavez, Hugo, to set the record straight,
they say is a socialist, now
rattling the United States
leading his 'Bolivarian' revolution,
named after Simon
who won their independence
from the Empire of Spain
in the early 19th Century.

A poster used to rally Americans to boycott
lettuce and grapes during the nationwide
boycott to get better wages and working
conditions for farm workers, poster by
the Women's Graphics Cooperative,
Chicago, 1978

But old Cesar, a Mexican
American
from Yuma, Arizona
who died in ninety-three, at age 66,
same as that people's highway,
now always carries the day.
Folks from California
celebrate his birthday
March 31st, each year -
Cesar Chavez Day, a California state holiday.

His favorite saying in those days of struggle
that began fifty years ago:
"¡SÍ SE PUEDE!"
(Yes We Can)

Hey, it also worked for Barack Obama.

Chávez no Chavez by Mike Marcellino copyright 2012  

Postscript on Cesar Chavez, the farm workers 
and The Painesville Telegraph newspaper strike 
by Mike Marcellino

When Chavez died on April 23, 1993, staff writer George Ramos wrote The Times obituary published the next morning. He wrote:

Cesar Chavez, who organized the United Farm Workers union, staged a massive grape boycott in the late 1960s to dramatize the plight of America’s poor farmhands, and later became a Gandhi-like leader to urban Mexican-Americans, was found dead Friday in San Luis, Ariz., police said. He was 66.

Here's how the Library of Congress describes the influence of Chavez in helping farm workers gain a better life:

On August 22, 1966, the United Farm Workers Organizing Committee (UFWOC), later renamed the United Farm Workers of America (UFW), was formed. The UFWOC was established when two smaller organizations, the National Farm Workers Association (NFWA) and the Agricultural Workers Organizing Committee (AWOC), both in the middle of strikes against certain California grape growers, merged and moved under the umbrella of the AFL-CIO. Under the founding leadership of Cesar Chavez and Dolores Huerta, the UFW won many labor or civil rights concessions for disenfranchised Mexican-American farmworkers, an important aspect of the Chicano movement. The Chicano movement has been an often-ignored part of the civil rights struggles in the 1960s; it was, nonetheless, a landmark period for the second-largest ethnic minority in the U.S.  

Before the rise of the UFW, working conditions were harsh for most agricultural workers. On average, farmworkers made about ninety cents per hour plus ten cents for each basket of produce they picked. Many workers in the field were not provided even the most basic necessities such as clean drinking water or portable toilets. Unfair hiring practices, such as favoritism and kickbacks, were rampant. Seldom were their living quarters equipped with indoor plumbing or cooking facilities.  

The strike against the Painesville Telegraph involved all non-management workers, from reporters to typesetters. It was a classic union organizing struggle by 100 workers against a powerful publisher who ran his newspaper like a plantation where full time reporters with a family and children were paid so little they qualified for food stamps.

While smoking was allowed in the newsroom in those days, women had to go to their powder room to smoke a cigarette. A senior reporter with 25 years experience made only $25 more than a cup reporter making $100 a week. Since no one counted hours, it's hard to say how much people were making an hour, less than $2 an hour. Minimum wage was $1.60 an hour. I was one of the reporters on strike and a strike leader and qualified for food stamps (before going on strike).

Strikers also went door to door, asking subscribers to support the workers and cancel their subscriptions to the newspaper until the strike was settled.  The paper's circulation of about 23,000 daily was cut in half.  The strike, with only 50 workers taking an active part, went on for nine months through the winter of 1973-74.  There was at least one bombing during what became a bitter strike.  The publisher, the Rowley family, which owned several newspapers and radio stations in northeast Ohio, hired security men, armed with .357 magnum revolvers and high powered rifles, who were often seen on the rooftop of the newspaper building.  Ten strikers, including myself, were found in contempt of court by a county judge for various alleged wrong doing, including picket line activities, but charges were never filed.  Not long after the strike collapsed, the National Labor Relations Board found the publisher guilty of unfair labor practices.  There were no injuries during the strike.

After nine months, the strike collapsed in April 1974 when Local 53 of the Typographical Union in Cleveland ran out money to pay meager benefits. Thirteen years later in 1986 the Painesville Telegraph closed its doors. I don't know of a single worker on strike who went back to work. The Telegraph, the oldest paper in the Western Reserve, was founded in 1822 by Eber Dudley Howe, an abolitionist leader whose home was a station for the underground railroad for runaway slaves.

Strikers, men and women, young and old walked picket lines 24-hours-a-day and published a five day a week strike newspaper, Lake County Today, which remains archived in the Painesville Morely Libray and referenced in Australian archives. I have also discovered a film of the striking workers archived in the WPA Film Library.
Here is the WPA discription of the film:

Segment begins with a shot of a building indicated as "Local 53" by the sign that hangs over the front door. The camera pulls back to reveal an African-American reporter standing at an intersection. As he speaks, cars are driving behind him. Reporter states that even though Local 53 is on strike, the Painesville Telegraph newspaper has continued publication. He goes on to say that the union has decided to give the paper some local competition by coming up with a publication of their own. Report holds up the newspaper which is entilted "Lake County Today". Shot of a woman standing behind a counter that is piled with newspapers. The woman explains that many local residents had canceled their subscription to the "Telegraph" after they went on strike. The new paper took this opportunity to ask the locals what they would really like to see in a newspaper. The results of the questioning lead to a strictly localized perspective. View of newspaper production activity. CU of hands setting a cartoon image on the front-page layout. Shot of man and woman discussing the layout. Shot of a sign that reads "Buy the Newest Paper-Lake County Today". Shot of man with a full beard sitting in the Local 53 office reading "Lake County Today". (Man looks ultra 70's) Shot of two men seated at a desk reading the newspaper. The man who is facing the camera is talking on the phone. The other man picks up the receiver of a black rotary telephone.  

Friday, July 27, 2012

'Like magic, it would seem,' a poem about 'Blowin' in the Wind' by Mike Marcellino

Poet, songwriter performing artist Mike Marcellino
sports "Hard Travlin'" T-shirt with art by Woody Guthrie
he was given at the Woody tribute
in Cleveland in 1996 

Like magic, it would seem
by mike marcellino


Four and a half days,

that's fast,

faster than the dust bowl days,

even today,

A la Woody Guthrie, but in the 60s,

off the siding

of the interstate highway

to route sixty-six, at times

stranded 'in a wasteland of the free'

to quote Iris DeMent.





On the road to find out

what America's all about -

like Woody's 'This Land Is Land'

sort of thing,

or maybe more like

Masters of War a Bob Dylan sort of thing. Truth is we were

freewheelin' across our fair land

at those very same moments

when Bob was writing an' singin' all that stuff.


On our first big ride, we were

almost saved

somewhere in the darkness of Kansas

by an unnamed family

always silently in fervent prayer.

We did get to eat at the break of day,

not sure where, but somewhere east of oz.

Hands out, even doin' a bit a soft shoe

echoes on the side of the road

like magic, it would seem.


We didn't see any evidence of a war

brewing

far away

in a place half way round

the globe

we were told

where in the dark blue mountains

it don't even snow

like magic, it would seem.


Our last night on the highway to LA

almost became really our last night.

You had to boost yourself up

to get into the cab. Then pitch black

only illuminated by dial for the gas,

we started going off the road,

we were on the edge

of oblivion, but that

kind truck driver woke up

put us straight

into CALI FOR NI A!


Not sure I remember what 

was going on 

in that summer of sixty-four,

two years before

we went off to war, 

except the Beach Boys. Maybe that

all got erased 

where in the dark blue mountains 

it don't even snow

like magic, it would seem.


But I took along all those versus, Bob, 

from 'Blowin' in the Wind' to 'I Shall Be Free'

with 'Corina, Cornia' in between. I knew

just when a song would come up.

"Did you know that people say 

you wrote that first song in 10 minutes?"

"I'd call that really speedin', wouldn't you?"

"Well try to sit down and write something like that. Ah, there's a magic to that," 

he once tired to explain.


But our road trip wasn't over. We took a train

to Nevada, Las Vegas that is,

and after the fare it left us 

with twenty bucks, 

not to spare.

Little wheel spin and spin

in the Desert Inn.

"Black!"

"No, green!"

(A terrible scream)

Echoes on the side of the road

where in the dark blue mountains 

it don't even snow.

Like magic, it would seem.


Like magic it would seem by Mike Marcellino copyright 2012

Mike Marcellino just recorded a new song, "Woody Blues," his song to Woody Guthrie marks the century celebration of the work of the legendary American folk singer from the Great Depression of the 1930 and 1940s.  Guthrie would have been 100 years old on July 14, 2012.  Woody's music and life on the road with the downtrodden has influenced generations of musicians around the world to the present day.  Guthrie was a mentor of Bob Dylan, who visited Woody while he was hospital in New York City.  Guthrie died in 1967 at age 55 from Huntington's Disease.


Dylan explains his magic on 60 Minutes

Bob Dylan in a 60 Minutes interview with Ed Bradley in 2004 admitted he took him about 10 minutes to write Blowing in the Wind.  Dylan said it was a "penetrating magic" in creativity that enabled him to write his early songs.  

Here's an excerpt of Ed Bradley's interview with Bob Dylan -

BD: Well try to sit down and write something like that. Ah, there's a magic to that. And it's not a sigfried and roy (reference to a magician and lion tamer performing duo) kind of magic . It's a penetrating kind of magic. I did it at one time.


EB: You don't think you could do it today?

BD: uh huh...

EB: Does this disappoint you?

BD: You can't do something for ever. (shakes his head slightly) I did it once and I can do other things now. I can't do that. (he looks down)

So, you guess about that.  Here's a video of the song and the lyrics.  Introduced by Jack Nicholson, Bob Dylan sings Blowin' in the Wind with Ron Wood and Keith Richards of the Rolling Stones at Live Aid in 1985.  The song is #14 n Rolling Stone's 500 Greatest Songs of All Time.  Dylan is 71.



Blowin' In the Wind
by Bob Dylan

How many roads must a man walk down
Before you call him a man?
Yes, ’n’ how many seas must a white dove sail
Before she sleeps in the sand?
Yes, ’n’ how many times must the cannonballs fly
Before they’re forever banned?
The answer, my friend, is blowin’ in the wind
The answer is blowin’ in the wind

How many years can a mountain exist
Before it’s washed to the sea?
Yes, ’n’ how many years can some people exist
Before they’re allowed to be free?
Yes, ’n’ how many times can a man turn his head
Pretending he just doesn’t see?
The answer, my friend, is blowin’ in the wind
The answer is blowin’ in the wind

How many times must a man look up
Before he can see the sky?
Yes, ’n’ how many ears must one man have
Before he can hear people cry?
Yes, ’n’ how many deaths will it take till he knows
That too many people have died?
The answer, my friend, is blowin’ in the wind
The answer is blowin’ in the wind

Copyright © 1962 by Warner Bros. Inc.; renewed 1990 by Special Rider Music

Here's a link to Bob Dylan's website for more stuff - 

Wednesday, July 25, 2012

'Woody Blues' : Mike Marcellino's 'talk' with Woody Guthrie, an American folk music legend

This Hard Travlin' poster of the art of legendary American folk singer of the Great Depression was published by the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 1996

Hard travelin': 'Woody Blues' story

The evolving interest in the Oklahoma cowboy Woody Guthrie first led Mike Marcellino to write a poem about Woody in view of how things are today, called "St. Augustine, Woody Blues."  Now the poem has turned into Woody Blues, a lyrical poetry song recording with Mike doing the lyrics and vocal and Tomas Texino doing the music and on electric guitar and synthesizer.  

Mike says his interest in the life and folk music of Guthrie, popular troubadour across America during the Great Depression of the 1930s, started long ago in the early 1960s when he fist started listening to the likes of Bob Dylan, who admired and was influenced by Guthrie.  Guthrie's songs that interest Mike are about the downtrodden and the working families.  His continuing interest got a boost on a wild road trip in the summer of 1964, from North Carolina to California, winding up in New York City.  (The subject of Mike's short memoir, a limited edition, New York Revisited, published in Cleveland in 2008 or so in advance of Mike's poetry music performing tours in New York City, the last one in the fall of 2010.)  

"My favorite Woody Guthrie songs are Pretty Boy Floyd and Hard Travlin'," Mike says.  "But then, I still listening."  Mike's poetry music covers the waterfront, and he invites you to listen to "Woody Blues" his 11th in a series of recordings that began in the fall of 2009.  He released 6-song limited tour CD "Notebook Writer" in 2010.  A new, full album is in the works along with a series of performances in the United States and Europe.  

Add, Deportee (Plane Wreck at Los Gatos) to that list of my favorite Woody Guthrie songs: list gonna grow and grow:  add California Stars and Ingrid Bergman (I like those two by Wilco and Bily Bragg on Mermaind Avenue, a two-CD set of Woody's songs) it's gonna grow and grow...

"I'll never lose my interest in Woody Guthrie, for me, he was the first real voice I heard, along with Dylan.  They're both great American writers,"  Mike added.  Woody would have turned 100 on July 14, 2012 if he were alive.

Mike says you can help preserve Woody's legacy and archives by supporting the Woody Guthrie Foundation, a non-profit organization.  In fact Mike discovered the Hard Travlin poster of the art by Woody Guthrie can be purchased at the Woody Guthrie website by clicking this link.  And, Mike just may have to get one himself cause his "Hard Travlin" T-shirt's coming apart.  Mike picked up the T-shirt in Cleveland in 1996 at the time of the 10-day celebration of Guthrie's music put on by the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame Museum and Case Western Reserve University.  


And, finally, here's a link to the main Woody Guthrie website.  In 1988 Guthrie was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.  Woody was the first artist celebrated in the rock hall's annual master series in 1996, an event Mike didn't miss.


You can listen to Mike's new song "Woody Blues" on the music player at the top.  Here, also, is a link to our music site on ReverbNation.  Listening is free; share our music and like us on our Facebook music page.
Woody Blues

by Mike Marcellino


First it was my army backpack.
Then
my old yellow T-shirt
with The Lillies on
gone.

The day after
Friday the Thirteenth
they took
my real leather beach shoes
right on your birthday.
One an' all.
One an' all.
Got the Saint Augustine,
Woody Blues.

So, this becomes
your birthday song
from the sand beaches
of the Great Recession
to dust bowls
of the Great Depression.
One an' all.
One an' all.
Got the Saint Augustine,
Woody Blues.

"As I went walking I saw a sign there
And on the sign it said 'No Trespassing.'
But on the other side it didn't say nothing,
That side was made for you and me."


So Woody, tell me,
Is this still our land -
"From California to the New York island;
From the red wood forest to the Gulf Stream waters?"

Or is it just a den of greed and thieves?
Did you have to nail stuff down,
back then
on the box car roads to California?
Or, just watch out
gettin' beat up bound for glory?
One an' all.
One an' all.
Got the Saint Augustine,
Woody Blues.

Now, another century
Jammin'
on Roosevelt Island.
Makin' up some songs
on the streets of Cleveland.
Trekking cross country
thumb out all the way.
Nothin' to lose anymore,
except everything
when the trucker fell asleep.
One an' all.
One an' all.
Got the Saint Augustine,
Woody Blues.
"Nobody living can ever stop me,
As I go walking that freedom highway;
Nobody living can ever make me turn back
This land was made for you and me."


Thanks for the borrowed lines, Woody.
They're mighty fine.
One an' all.
One an' all.
Got the Saint Augustine,
Woody Blues.


St. Augustine, Woody Blues and Woody Blues recording lyrics by Mike Marcellino, copyright 2012

So long, been good ta know ya - here's This Land is Your Land by Woody Guthrie in a rare Depression era video


Saturday, July 14, 2012

My song to Woody Guthrie: "Got the Saint Augustine, Woody Blues"


The Harder They Come, written by Jamaican singer Jimmy Cliff, performed by Willie Nelson and Ryan Adams, Live, David Letterman Show 2002.



Got the Saint Augustine,
Woody Blues


by Mike Marcellino



First it was my army backpack.

Then

my old yellow T-shirt

with The Lillies on

gone.

The day after

Friday the Thirteenth

they took

my real leather beach shoes

right on your birthday.

One an' all.

One an' all.

Got the Saint Augustine,

Woody Blues.


Mike Marcellino performs at Gallery RIVAA on Roosevelt Island in New York City





So, this becomes

your birthday song

from the sand beaches

of the Great Recession

to dust bowls

of the Great Depression.

One an' all.

One an' all.

Got the Saint Augustine,

Woody Blues.


"As I went walking I saw a sign there

And on the sign it said 'No Trespassing.'

But on the other side it didn't say nothing,

That side was made for you and me."



So Woody, tell me,

Is this still our land -

"From California to the New York island;

From the red wood forest to the Gulf Stream waters?"


Or is it just a den of greed and thieves?


Did you have to nail stuff down,

back then

on the box car roads to California?

Or, just watch out

gettin' beat up bound for glory?

One an' all.

One an' all.

Got the Saint Augustine,

Woody Blues.


Now, another century

Jammin'

on Roosevelt Island.

Makin' up some songs

on the streets of Cleveland.

Trekking cross country

thumb out all the way.


Nothin' to lose anymore,

except everything

when the trucker fell asleep.

One an' all.

One an' all.

Got the Saint Augustine,

Woody Blues.

Add caption


American folk singing legend Woody Guthrie, born July 14, 1912, Okemah, Oklahoma; died October 3, 1967 in New York City, at age 55 from Huntington's disease


"Nobody living can ever stop me,

As I go walking that freedom highway;

Nobody living can ever make me turn back

This land was made for you and me."



Thanks for the borrowed lines.

They're mighty fine.

One an' all.

One an' all.

Got the Saint Augustine,

Woody Blues.


Got the Saint Augustine,Woody Blues by Mike Marcellino, copyright 2012



"This Land Is Your Land" by Woody Guthrie



"This Is Your Land," Bruce Springsteen, Los Angeles, 1985

Friday, July 13, 2012

Falling Water and Ayn Rand's fanatical 'individualism'


Falling Water, the Kaufman family home in the mountains of southwestern Pennsylvania, designed by American architect Frank Lloyd Wright in 1935

Falling Water is listed among Smithsonian's Life List of 28 places "to visit before you die."

Falling Water or the Kaufmann Residence is a house designed by architect Frank Lloyd Wright in 1935 in rural southwestern Pennsylvania, 50 miles (80 km) southeast of Pittsburgh. The home was built partly over a waterfall on Bear Run in the Mill Run section of Stewart Township, Fayette County, Pennsylvania, in the Laurel Highlands of the Allegheny Mountains. Hailed by Time shortly after its completion as Wright's "most beautiful job," it is listed among Smithsonian's Life List of 28 places "to visit before you die." It was designated a National Historic Landmark in 1966. In 1991, members of the American Institute of Architects named the house the "best all-time work of American architecture" and in 2007, it was ranked twenty-ninth on the list of America's Favorite Architecture according to the AIA. - Wikipedia 

Frank Lloyd Wright, 1867-1959

Falling Water and the fanatical 'individualism' of Ayn Rand

An essay by Mike Marcellino

Falling Water is a home designed by perhaps America's greatest architect, Frank Lloyd Wright.

Some critics argue that Wright, from Richland Center, Wisconsin, was the pattern for Howard Roark, the architect and hero of author Ayn Rand's 1949 novel of the individualist - "The Fountainhead."   That same year the film "The Fountainhead" directed by King Vidor, starring Gary Cooper and Patricia Neal, was a critical bomb.




I do recommend a trip to Falling Water in the mountains of southwestern Pennsylvania.
If you like Rand's first literary success, read "Atlas Shrugged" her last book and last word on "objectivism," her philosophy where complete individual rights is the only social system.
The Russian born writer from a bourgeois family in St. Petersburg is the champion of laissez-faire capitalism.

I must admit that I did enjoy reading both The Fountainhead and Atlas Shrugged, but then I was quite young and exploring.  Now I look upon Rand's philosophy something akin to the philosophy practiced by cave men, yet her primary point of allow creativity and individualism to flourish in a society that builds things remains vital.



Ayn Rand, 1905 - 1982

She makes some valid points with respect to creativity and industry but goes off the deep end with her egotistical survival of the fittest mentality in which creators and industry without restriction get all they desire while the rest of mankind - oh, she didn't bother with the rest of the people.

I did read both novels in junior high school, or was it grade school?

It's important not to confuse her selfish philosophy with the protection of individual rights, I have found.  But then, Atlas Shrugged did predict the fall of industry in America, such as private trains, passenger trains that is.

Still, we should be watchful not to allow government to destroy the individual.

The trouble is that largely unrestricted industry is on its way to destroying the earth, the wildlife upon it, the air we breath, the water we drink and the creeks, lakes, rivers, seas and oceans we love.

While, this essay wasn't intended to be political, it is the season in America; we should think long and hard about the coming presidential election.  We should not elect someone who will promote creativity, industry and capitalism, while destroying our planet and the great majority of its people.

Visit the website of Falling Water, it's wonderful!

Falling Water website














(Falling Water photo courtesy of home-designing.com and other photos thanks to Wikipedia)

(author's note:  Google Blogger editing software is the worst known to man, so please excuse the layout as I have done page layout for newspapers; like Word Press, here I come, as I have wasted countless hours trying to make Blogger work)

copyright by Mike Marcellino 2012

Sunday, July 8, 2012

Trail of the tide pool soldier, a poem by Mike Marcellno



Pebbles with poppies painted on are seen on the beach of Saint-Aubin-sur-Mer on June 5, 2009 during a ceremony in memory of Canadian troops which landed in 1944 at the Nan Red point on Saint-Aubin beach. Each poppy painted by students represents a soldier killed here during World War II. Preparations are underway for the upcoming D-Day celebrations to mark the 65th anniversary of the June 6, 1944 allied landings in France, then occupied by Nazi Germany. (DANIAU/AFP/Getty Images) (from denverpost.com)





Trail of the tide pool soldier
by Mike Marcellino

Once a man marched on the beach
at the last glow of day,
each and every day.
They called him the tide pool soldier,
for short.
As he marched, he cast his eyes
upon the sand,
reading colors
in the tide pool canyons.
Coppers,
gold, grey, cream,
black and silver reds.

The winding trail carried far off seas,
little ripples, tiny swells,
along these shores for many a mile,
as far as the eye can see.
Slight beach canyons on the ground
reminded him
of some old Irish glenns he'd seen,
in fall.

On and on he marched, but not till dawn.
He wore no steel pot, no bearskin hat,
no jungle, no desert fatigues.

"One two three four
sound off, "
he whispered to himself,  somewhat bitterly.
"The streets of heaven are paved with gold.
Sound off."

On and on he marched, but not till dawn.
"Do people ever catch any big fish here,"
he asked a fisherboy.
"Yes, we caught an eight pound red fish,"
his dad said proudly.
"Are they good eating?" the hungry soldier asked.
Then a yellow lab
came into the conversation,
suddenly.
But Matt heard his master's call
and ran away from it all.
The father smiled,
and looked back out to the sea.

The tide pool soldier
skirted a dribble castle,
it was too well fortified;
he knew the tide would take it
anyway.

On and on he marched, but not till dawn.
He stepped out gingerly,
his automatic reflex
designed to protecting some empire.
But was always careful
not to get into a real
goose step
invented by the first Leopold
a prince
of the 18th Century.
It was to keep the troops in line.
They tried it once on him.
It didn't work;
He was a soldier for liberty.

Billowing clouds, with a tint of
rainy grey
blocked the sunset,
marring a perfect day.

On and on he marched, but not till dawn,
noting all he encountered -
a blond boy tinkering
on his tide pool journey,
his mother pushing a carriage
of a sleeping dark skinned baby.

"Have you ever seen a tide pool trail like this,
going on as far as the eye can see?" he asked.
"No, I've never seen this before," the mother said.

On and on he marched, but not till dawn,
about facing,
just in time
to see
a yellow chartreuse
neon surfer
setting out to sea.

Trail of the tide pool soldier by Mike Marcellino, copyright 2012

Wednesday, July 4, 2012

Song of liberty, pain, war and peace: "Born in the USA"


Bruce Springsteen and The E Street Band perform "Born in the USA" live in Paris during their two-year Born in the USA World Tour



"I wrote this song about the Vietnam war, tonight we sing it as a prayer for peace" 
- Bruce Springsteen speaking in Catalan live in Barcelona 2003



"Born in the USA" acoustic, from Spain


Born in the USA postscript
by Mike Marcellino

I wrote the following column on The Fourth of July 2012, and decided to explain point blank what the song "Born in the USA" is all about from the perspective of a combat veteran of the Vietnam War.

Today, I just discovered in his own words what the song means to Springsteen, at least now.
I agree with his dedication in Barcelona of "Born in the USA" as a prayer for peace.  Amen, Bruce.


People debate over whether Bruce Springsteen's song "Born in the USA" is unpatriotic.  Well, they then they either know nothing or are without understanding of the Vietnam War and the high price paid by 3 million American troops who served in country, the 58,282 who died, 303,644 wounded and the 1,672 still missing in action.  

When troops came home from the battlefields they weren't given any transition assistance, weren't asked a single meaningful question even in hospitals. Instead we were blamed for the war, called "baby killers," treated with disdain and even spit upon.  

Many who served had a rough life to begin with.  Many opposed the war.  Many stayed in college to avoid the draft (Bill Clinton), joined the National Guard (George Walker Bush), many got marred and had kids, some fled to Canada and elsewhere.  

I served a combat correspondent and photojournalist in the U.S. Army and traveled through much of South Vietnam and even Cambodia.  I couldn't be prouder of those I served with and looked out for me (since I carried cameras and notebooks instead of my M-14). They were the best!  They defined courage.  

So don't ever tell me that our song "Born in the USA" is unpatriotic.  

It doesn't make any difference if your like the song or not, or what your politics are.  Given our sacrifices in American longest war (10 years). I ask, how patriotic can you get?  

We are "brothers in arms."  And, that song by the British rock band Dire Straits is probably our most cherished anthem, along with "Fortunate Son" by American rock band Creedence Clearwater Revival and and "We Gotta Get Out of This Place" recorded by British rock band The Animals.    

"Born in the USA" is a song about my brothers in arms.  


Mark Knopfler performing one of the best verions ever of “Brothers in Arms” during “Music for Montserrat,” live from Royal Albert Hall, London – 15 September 1997

Song of liberty, pain, war and peace:  Born in the USA
by Mike Marcellino

The 1984 album Born in the USA was #1 on the charts in the United States and in other countries throughout the world, except for France and Italy where it was #2 and Japan #6. Considering the language differences that's amazing.

I wrote this piece after finding debates on YouTube by people over whether "Born in the USA" is a patriotic song or not.

Listening to the bursts of fireworks outside my window, (always makes me a bit jumpy, as they sound much mortar, rocket or bombs) I think of the Fourth of July and I think of Bruce Springsteen's title song Born in the USA.

If you've struggled in your life trying to make ends meet, or served in the U. S. armed forces sticking your neck out or getting wounded you understand the song. If you're the family of a loved one who didn't come home you understand.  Now some folks may not like Born in the USA, the song, but they understand it.

Americans have courage and the determination to overcome.  We've proven that for more than 236 years.

The YouTube comments debate misses the point, entirely.  Patriotism is having opinions and standing behind them, even when they are different than the majority or oppose the government or its decisions.  That's liberty.  That's what our soldiers, sailors, Marines, airmen and guardsmen have fought to create and preserve.

What real Americans agree on and believe in is making our country a better nation with liberty and justice for all.  Americans know their country makes mistakes, is terribly wrong at times, but they know we must overcome and endure.

Our troops don't make wars; not right ones or wrong ones; but our troops are the best in the world and have lost very few battles, including the Vietnam War.

Our elected officials, the president and Congress makes wars; but men and women in the armed forces answer our nation's call; if we hadn't many of us would not be here; or all of us might be here without our liberty.

From all over the world, people continue to seek refuge from oppression in the United States.  People from all over the world continue to immigrate to America, many wait and many try anything to get here and stay.

The reason is liberty, though our nation remains imperfect.

My comrades and I who served on the battlefields understand what Born in the USA means, whether we like the song or not.

Born in the USA
by Bruce Springsteen

Born down in a dead man's town
The first kick I took was when I hit the ground
You end up like a dog that's been beat too much
Until you spend half your life just covering up

Born in the U.S.A., I was born in the U.S.A.
I was born in the U.S.A., born in the U.S.A.

Got in a little hometown jam
So they put a rifle in my hand
Sent me off to a foreign land
To go and kill the yellow man

Born in the U.S.A. . . .

Come back home to the refinery
Hiring man said, "Son if it was up to me"
Went down to see my V.A. man
He said, "Son, don't you understand"

I had a brother at Khe Sahn
Fighting off the Viet Cong
They're still there, he's all gone

He had a woman he loved in Saigon
I got a picture of him in her arms now

Down in the shadow of the penitentiary
Out by the gas fires of the refinery
I'm ten years burning down the road
Nowhere to run, ain't got nowhere to go

Born in the U.S.A., I was born in the U.S.A.
Born in the U.S.A., I'm a long gone daddy in the U.S.A.
Born in the U.S.A., born in the U.S.A.
Born in the U.S.A., I'm a cool rocking daddy in the U.S.A.