Maybe the answer to the closing the ever-widening and positively despicable gap between rich and poor — a chasm into which more and more of the middle class are tumbling — lies in the title of a book by P.J. O’Rourke and songs by Aerosmith and Motorhead: EAT THE RICH.
Maybe the answer is for people to truly understand what Henry David Thoreau meant when he said “That man is rich whose pleasures are the cheapest,” which echoed the wisdom of Lao Tze: ” He who is contented is rich.”
Or maybe we should ponder the remarkable wisdom of W.C. Fields — “A rich man is nothing but a poor man with money” — and listen to this stimulating but sobering speech by my favorite socialist, Senator Bernie Sanders of Vermont, on tax breaks for the wealthy (and other outrages):
Her voice sounds like music to my ears. So why was I surprised by this latest revelation about the amazing Sarah Palin?
One of the all-time classic music videos shows a very young Aretha Franklin, circa late 1960s, as she sings “R-E-S-P-E-C-T.” Watch — and enjoy — the video. But watch Aretha’s lips as she sings:
Yes! You noticed it too! Aretha’s not singing! She’s lip-synching to a recording!
And now the truth has been revealed. Aretha was interviewed the other night on Larry King’s show on CNN and admitted that she had a sudden case of laryngitis on the morning of this performance. So a phenomenal young singer, only about 10 years old, was recruited to sing the classic Otis Redding-penned song.
And, yes, the Queen of Soul revealed that the 10-year-old anonymous songstress was none other than our very own Sarah Palin!
What can I say except…
Sarah, thank you for putting your singing career on the back burner and putting America on the front burner. Sarah, I believe I speak not just for myself but for all Americans when I say: You will always have our R-E-S-P-E-C-T.
Some of you have asked if I was surprised when Sarah Palin became governor of Alaska and then ran for vice president of the United States and then became a Fox News commentator. Was I surprised? You betcha! I mean, who wouldn’t be surprised? After all, this is little Sarah Palin, the cute and spunky little girl with the big eyeglasses who sat next to me in my kindergarten class at P.S. 9 in my old hometown of Yonkers, New York.
Not only did Sarah sit next to me in her little desk right alongside my own little kindergarten desk. She also lay down next to me at nap time when our teacher, Miss Crabtree, instructed us all to roll out our mats and take a 10-minute nap to rest up after our busy morning of learning the alphabet, learning to count, and learning to get along with all of the other kids.
You probably guessed, though, that Sarah didn’t nap. Sure, she rolled out her mat when Miss Crabtree told us to. But then Sarah just sprawled out on her back, eyes wide open, resting the back of her head on her arms, and just gazed up at the ceiling through those big designer eyeglasses, and smiled that big smile we’ve all come to know and love.
It occurs to me now that little Sarah Palin was smiling because she already knew that someday she would move to Alaska and become governor and then run for vice president and then become a Fox commentator and then maybe someday become the first woman president even though all of the so-called smart people thought the first woman president would be Hillary Clinton.
I’m thinking that I actually played a role in a somewhat historic event…It may well be that the first time Sarah ever winked that famous wink, she winked at me! Except she was probably thinking about the great life she had ahead of her — while I thought she was flirting!
Long story short, after nap time it was finger painting time, so we all put on our painting smocks and stepped up to our easels. Miss Crabtree looked at Sarah’s finger painting creation — the entire sheet was covered with gray paint — and asked Sarah was it was called. I’ll never forget Sarah’s reply: “Gee whiz, Miss Crabtree, can’t you tell”! It’s a close-up of a gray elephant!!”
That’s when Sarah winked at me. I melted faster than a glacier in the Bering Sea.
My own big sheet of paper was slathered with red paint. Miss Crabtree asked, “Nicky, what’s the name of your painting?” I replied, “Red.”
But what it was really called, although I was just too shy to say it, was “Valentine for Little Sarah Palin.”
Little Sarah Palin… Politically precocious. My first crush. Killer wink.
I don’t know about all of you, but I haven’t been able to break away from watching the live hearings being televised on C-SPAN as Alaska legislators debate the proposal to rename their state in honor of Sarah Palin.
The debate, in case you haven’t been following this, isn’t over whether to change the state’s name. Everyone’s in agreement on that — of course!
The argument is over whether to change the name of Alaska to PALINSKA or PALASKA.
I think it’s a no-brainer. Think about it. What gets Sarah Palin really mad? When she sees all of those fat cats in Washington, D.C, our nation’s capital, spending our money like it’s their money and like you and I have magic wallets or pocketbooks that just keep making more and more greenbacks, right? Ten thousand dollar toilets? Health care for everyone? Spending zillions of dollars on alternative energy when there’s tons of oil right there under those melting glaciers up there in Alaska?
So it really comes down to money. If “Alaska” becomes “Palinska” that will require changing “Ala” to “Palin,” which involves a total of eight letters, which would have to be changed on every single map, in every single book, on every “Greetings from Alaska” postcard, and every single “Welcome to Alaska, Where Sarah Palin’s From” sign. Eight letters to change in every single place Alaska is mentioned. Lots of money we can’t afford to spend.
On the other hand, change the name of Alaska to “Palaska” and there’s only the one letter “P” to add. Way cheaper.
So, come on, Alaska legislators! Stop arguing. Just look at these two maps. Here’s what the map looks like now:
And here’s what it should look like after you all stop arguing:
Note: Traffic on this site soars whenever I mention Sarah Palin. So I’ve decided to write something about her at least once a week. Here’s this week’s Sarah Palin report:
Faithful readers of “World of Wonders” know that I posted several entries in recent weeks about the Feb. 20 grand opening of friend Steven Hart’s bookstore, Nighthawk Books, in Highland Park, N.J. Well, the event went as well as I hoped it would — and then some!
Hundreds of people visited Steve’s store during the course of the day-long celebration.
AND….Sarah Palin made a surprise appearance!
What else can I say? Two weeks ago I reported seeingSarah out of the New Jersey Turnpike, probably on her way to some high-paying speaking engagement, but instead saying “Well, the heck with that! I’m going to forget about that high-paying speaking engagement and help people dig their cars out of the snow!” One week ago I reported on Sarah’s amazing ice-skating performance at the Olympics up there in Canada (which is the country next to Alaska).
And now here was Sarah Palin — a highly educated woman who I believe actually attended something like six colleges but probably isn’t much of a reader because she’s so busy trying to probably become president – stopping at my friend’s bookstore to show her support for what she described in her impromptu speech at the ribbon-cutting ceremony as her “support of Mom-and-Pop type businesses and also this amazing bookstore run by Steve Hart that is filled with so many books that it makes you realize that there’s lots and lots of books you probably will never find the time to read, gosh darn it, but it’s good to know they’re there in case you feel like reading a book…”
Thanks, Sarah, for supporting my friend’s new independent bookstore — and for so graciously signing my second-hand copy of “Call of the Wild” by Jack London.
P.S. Yes, I’ll tell you what Sarah wrote: “To Nicholas DiGiovanni — Stop by and visit us next time if you’re ever up there in Alaska. Signed, Sarah Palin” And no, in case any of you were thinking about it, the book is not for sale!
Note: Traffic on this site soars whenever I mention Sarah Palin. So I’ve decided to write something about her at least once a week. Here’s this week’s Sarah Palin report:
She’s been a mayor. She’s been a governor. She’s been a candidate for vice president. She may try to become the actual president. And she’s already a TV commentator on the “fair and balanced” news channel, even though she’s never been an actual journalist. So I’m already impressed, right?
But then I’m at the gym this morning, and I’m watching TV while pedaling on the stationary bicycle, and the “Today” show people are broadcasting from the Winter Olympics in Calgary and showing highlights of the previous night’s competition, and wouldn’t you know it…
There’s Sarah Palin competing in the figure-skating competition and completing the first-ever triple quadruple quintuple camel axel topped off by a 30-foot-high Salchow jump ( I though she was going to hit her head on the roof of the ice rink!) and concluding with a 5-minute death spin done in perfect sync with a speeded-up recording of Ravel’s “Bolero.”
How did Sarah Palin not win the gold medal? My guess is that the Russians paid off the judges. But in my heart and in my soul, I know Sarah was the real winner – because Sarah Palin already has a heart of gold, which is way more important than any Winter Olympics gold medal, gosh darn it.
One of the highest-traffic days ever for “Nicholas DiGiovanni’s World of Wonders” was a day during the presidential campaign when I wrote a satirical piece suggesting that Sarah Palin’s presence on the GOP ticket as the vice-presidential candidate was actually the fulfillment of the Book of Revelation’s apocalyptic vision as described in the secret message revealed by the opening of the Seventh Seal.
There were hundreds upon hundreds of page views and visitors (many of whom, I’m certain, thought the piece was factual, not satirical).
What did I learn?
One, that I guess I misread the Book of Revelation’s signs — Sarah didn’t get elected.
Two, I can draw many readers to my Web site (and its thought-provoking and eclectic mix of literary essays, humor pieces, cultural commentaries and original fiction) by once a week posting stuff I make up about Sarah Palin, who’s still out there running for something or other.
So here’s this week’s Sarah Palin report:
I rode out yesterday’s near-blizzard in New Jersey at a hotel located within a few hundred feet of the New Jersey Turnpike. At the height of the storm, I looked out at traffic crawling along that highway, saw a number of vehicles stranded in the breakdown lane — and there was SARAH PALIN, I’m assuming on the way to some Tea Party speaking engagement, and she was helping people dig out their cars and pushing them out of roadside snowbanks. She probably does stuff like this all the time when she’s up there in Alaska, but nevertheless it was really nice of her to take time off from her busy schedule to help people who were stranded by the snowstorm in New Jersey. She may actually have saved a few lives! I’m sure Sarah will be really low-key about her heroine-ism, but I think she deserves recognition.
The title of this blog post is also, believe it or not, the title of the longtime official state song of the Commonwealth of Virginia. The song was written by an African-American named James Bland back in the 1800s. And the lyrics go like this:
Carry me back to old Virginny,
There’s where the cotton and the corn and tatoes grow,
There’s where the birds warble sweet in the springtime,
There’s where the old darkey’s heart am long’d to go,
There’s where I labor’d so hard for old massa,
Day after day in the field of yellow corn,
No place on earth do I love more sincerely
Than old Virginny, the state where I was born.
CHORUS: Carry me back to old Virginny,
There’s where the cotton and the corn and tatoes grow,
There’s where the birds warble sweet in the springtime,
There’s where this old darkey’s heart am long’d to go.
Carry me back to old Virginny,
There let me live ’till I wither and decay,
Long by the old Dismal Swamp have I wander’d,
There’s where this old darkey’s life will pass away.
Massa and missis have long gone before me,
Soon we will meet on that bright and golden shore,
There we’ll be happy and free from all sorrow,
There’s where we’ll meet and we’ll never part no more.
Yes, suh, and yes, ma’am, you read that correctly. Virginia’s theme song celebrates slavery and features an “old darkey” who loves his “old massa.”
Here’s some interesting stuff. Bland was from Long Island, N.Y. He also wrote the song “Oh, Dem Golden Slippers.” And through the years there have been numerous attempts to replace the song with one that did not glamorize or romanticize slavery. When those efforts failed, others tried and failed to at least change some of the words: “dreamer’s” instead of “darkey’s,”My loved ones” or “Mamma” instead of “ol’ Massa” and “Papa” in place of “Missis.”
If I got this right, I believe the song was finally designated as Virginia’s
“state song emeritus” and replaced with something a little less, um, what’s the word I’m trying to think of….Bigoted? Narrow-minded? Cruel? Redneck? All of the above.
Regardless, I have no doubt that “Carry Me Back…” still tugs at the heartstrings of plenty of Virginians.
Here’s Eddy Arnold singing this truly terrible song of pride and prejudice:
More about Virginia in the next few days. Why? Because I was just there for two weeks, and it’s on my mind, especially because the weather forecasts of about 3 feet of snow — which prompted me to end a wonderful stay at a great writers retreat one day early — appear to have been right on target.
So, in the next few days, I’ll write about that old-time religion I encountered in west-central Virginia, my stay at the Virginia Center for the Creative Arts (and a few of the amazingly talented people I met there), “hidden” rural poverty in Virginia and the South, the Blue Ridge Mountains, the “Old West,” Civil War battlefields, the Walton’s Mountain Museum and my fellow shoppers at the Super Wal-Mart store outside Lynchburg, Va., home, God help us, of Reverend Jerry Falwell’s Liberty University.
Can a song change the world? I walked into my favorite cafe this morning and John Lennon was singing “Tomorrow Never Knows” and I’m wagering that there’s a song that changed somebody’s world, maybe even mine.
What about something by Bach? By Charley Patton? By Billie Holiday? By Elvis? Did “That’s Alright Mama” change the world?
Here’s a link to a You Tube video of an around-the-world singalong to the song by Ben E. King, “Stand By Me.” The idea’s kind of like what Arlo Guthrie described in “Alice’s Restaurant” – three people sing it, and they may think it’s an organization. Fifty people start singing it, fifty people a day, and they’ll think it’s a movement. It’s like Pete Seeger might say — get enough people singing a song together, they might even start clapping their hands, and if they’re clapping their hands, those hands will be too busy to do anyone any harm.
To get an answer to that question, I guess readers of these essays will have to wait and see. Come to think of it, so will I.
November was frantic and December was chaotic and January so far has been…What’s a good word?….Ominous? Apocalyptic? Nostradamussy? Did I just invent a new word? The economy collapsing all around us…layoffs and a just-announced one-week furlough without pay at my own job…probably a big friggin’ meteor heading toward us from behind the blinding sun…wars and rumors of war…icebergs melting…Old Faithful no longer so faithful…publishing world still hasn’t recognized its obligation to publish “Half Moon” and “Gloryville” and “The Dogs of Arroyo” by Nicholas DiGiovanni… it’s like Dylan sang back in the 1990s because he knew this was all gonna come down like a hard rain a-faillin’…ain’t no use jivin’…ain’t no use jokin’…everything is broken.
So that may explain why, much to my surprise and chagrin, I’ve paid only about a half-dozen visits to my very own World of Wonders in the last two months. But now that’s going to change.
Spring training’s right around the corner, maybe the meteor will miss us, Obama’s about to become president, and Dylan’s still touring, and things just have to get better, right? So here’s some of what I’m going to write about and I hope you’ll want to read about in coming days:
Poets Joe Weil, Maria Gillan and Rita Dove. Dylan expert Michael Gray. My latest quests for arts-colony invitations and arts-foundation money (and why is it that I just now realized the similarity between “arts colony” and “ant colony). Ray Bradbury. Niagara Falls. The future of newspapers. Puerto Rico. Louise Gluck and her recent great poem in the New Yorker. Extremely cold weather. New Year’s Eve in Vermont and a January 1st visit to the Weston Priory. A commentary on Thomas Merton’s relationship with his lady friend. More about my much-missed friend Robert Lax. More reasons why I want someone to offer me a job in Vermont. An account of a dinner conversation in which I explained to my wife why I didn’t go to Harvard or Princeton. Musings (I’m being inspired by the Muse) on the nature and meaning of true friendship. A long overdue report on a bunch of fine writers I got to meet at the Delaware Valley Poetry Festival this past October. Some (I hope) catholic commentary about the Catholic Worker movement. Some talk about books I’ve read recently. Some thoughts on recent and upcoming books by writer pals Steven Hart. Christian Bauman and Bathsheba Monk. Further explanation of why I’d like to live forever, even if that meant outliving all of my friends and family. Thoughts on whether I really do remember being in my mother’s womb. Thoughts on whether my late father and other dead people I once loved really do speak to me in my dreams. And, most important, of all, my thoughts on the Yankees’ acquisition of CC Sabathia and Mark Teixeira and A.J. Burnett.
