15 April 2020. Miramar Scene (Version II).
What makes people do the right thing? Spike Lee thought it was better as a question than as an answer. Martin Luther King or Malcolm X? And William Carlos Williams, In the American Grain, wasn’t certain, either—see his first chapter, Red Eric—our Viking legacy: “Rather the ice than their way: to take what is mine by single strength, theirs by the crookedness of their law.” Or the conquest of Tenochtitlan—the overwhelming beauty of what Cortez first encountered, and then its ruin. Maybe Daniel Boone—his woodsman’s respect for Indian ways, over than the staid lives of his contemporaries.
The Daily Bread—Carolyn North’s project from the 1980’s—taking leftover foods from local emporiums and delivering them to people in need. Dave, above, who continues the tradition, once a week, from the Acme Bakery to a homeless shelter. Sometimes he shares with us as well—a basket of madeleines propped on a car hood as we gathered to sing on a recent evening. Our faces covered with masks—some hand-sewn (thank you, Alesia) or cowboy-style (green bandana)—and always Dave’s query, “Any favorites…?” Which might be something Tanya or Barbara have came up with—an ode to Dr. Fauci, or the admonitory “Wash Your Hands,” repurposed Beetles songs, so that we all know the melodies.
At first I resisted—and still hum along more than sing, trying to make sense of it all. Why it feels right. And I’m not a Jackie de Shannon fan—even tongue in cheek—so Put a Little Love in Your Heart seems forced—too obvious. (Wrong here—they were following the cover version by Annie Lennox and Al Green. And who could not like Al Green?) What the Russians call poshlust’—a reaching for the over-easy emotion. And yet it feels necessary. I look around and everyone’s participating—OMG myself included. Professor David from UC, just across the way, all the rest.
Tanya and Dave swaying back and forth, hitting the counter notes… A sense of what we need…
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Another culprit—the Vietnam War. You couldn’t live through that time—feel the exigencies of the state (local draft boards and all the rest) without a measure of cintense scepticism. Being led into demonstrations—the shouted mottos and chant—which highlighted our dilemma, but always at the price of a more thoughtful response. Not the time for measure, perhaps. That came later. But the essential wariness stayed with us. We were raised on it…
