I feel blessed to be having this experience of busking in Philadelphia. Each day is a painting, a tapestry, of the human condition, and I feel connected, playing the sound track. The Greek chorus. All kinds of people walk by me every day, rich, poor, all going somewhere, some hurrying more than others. Some standing still, pausing. I see people laughing, crying, talking, arguing, brooding, chatting on cell phones, and some talking to themselves. I think of how fragile we all are. We're all bumping along, getting through life the best we can.
When I look at the songs I sing, the body of work as a whole reflect the different facets of our human existence. I add songs periodically which speak to me, shed light on another facet. Some talk of the poignancy of life. Some are very Zen and question the material life we lead. Here's one Kansas made famous....
Dust In The Wind
I close my eyes,
only for a moment and the moment's gone.
All my dreams,
pass before my eyes, a curiosity.
Dust in the wind, all they are is dust in the wind.
Same old song,
just a drop of water in an endless sea,
All we do,
crumbles to the ground, though we refuse to see
Dust in the wind, all we are is dust in the wind.
Don't hang on,
nothing lasts forever but the earth and sky.
It slips away,
and all your money won't another minute buy.
Dust in the wind, all we are is dust in the wind.
Dust in the wind, everything is dust in the wind.
We may be just drops of water, but we are in an endless sea.....
Monday, February 22, 2010
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
El Mundo Es Loco
Yes, the world is crazy.
The relief effort in Haiti continues, as does the nightmare. People are dying because they can't receive transportation out of Haiti to get medical treatment, especially children. It's frustrating, busking here in snow-bound Philadelphia, watching this tragedy. However, many generous people did donate to my collection for the ClintonBushHaitiFund.org last week. I sent them $85 to help with the relief efforts. Thank you to all friends and strangers who helped with the cause. If you'd like to make a donation yourself, simply log on to www.clintonbushhaitifund.org.
Actually, the word "strangers" doesn't seem quite appropriate anymore. I feel a sense of community with people who happen by. Some I see on a regular basis, others I see for the first time. It's hard not to just stop playing and singing and to stand there and talk and catch up on each others' lives. My friend from Tehran stopped by after three weeks absence due to a car accident, which fortunately only totalled the car and did no harm to her or her son. My friend, Al, stopped by. He's always an inspiration. He must be 80 at least, and he still plays piano and accordion in an Italian restaurant on a weekly basis. We had a good discussion about jazz and why it's not popular, and how people and restaurant owners prefer pop songs to jazz, when we play for customers. There are the other musicians I meet, talk with, and even jam with. A new singer-songwriter named Tim joined the musical fold today, his first day. We talked about busking, the do's and don't's, although there are really no rules or guidelines. What works for some might not work for others.
Sometimes bad things happen when busking. My banjo player friend was almost robbed last week. He was playing and a young couple walked up to him and the woman grabbed all his dollar bills out of his box and started to walk away. My friend protested. The woman hollered back at him, "What you gonna do about it, bitch?" My friend went after her with his banjo and threatened her, her boyfriend stepped in, a store owner called the transit police who came and told my friend, he shouldn't be flaunting his money out there for people to see, and that it was basically his own fault. He got his money back, however. A senior cop later explained to my friend that he was, in fact, within his rights. However, no charges were filed. It was a blip on the screen. Just another day at Suburban Station.
Which reminds me of the woman I wrote about last week, who asked me why I felt I should give to Haiti and not to the homeless right here in Philly. She resented it that I also "flaunted" the money I made (for Haiti) for all the homeless walking by to see.
I understand where she's coming from, although I don't know what the answer is.
Nothing is black or white. The couple was able to attempt to rob my friend in broad daylight before twenty witnesses. The cops at first sided with the would-be robbers. Flaunting was the charge, and my banjo buddy got what he deserved. Welcome to Bizarro World.
Si, el mundo es loco.
And tomorrow I'll return to busking, perhaps a little wiser, remembering not to flaunt the kindness of strangers, and friends. I will sing my heart out and look forward to seeing perhaps Al, or Austin, or one of my other new found friends....
Actually, the word "strangers" doesn't seem quite appropriate anymore. I feel a sense of community with people who happen by. Some I see on a regular basis, others I see for the first time. It's hard not to just stop playing and singing and to stand there and talk and catch up on each others' lives. My friend from Tehran stopped by after three weeks absence due to a car accident, which fortunately only totalled the car and did no harm to her or her son. My friend, Al, stopped by. He's always an inspiration. He must be 80 at least, and he still plays piano and accordion in an Italian restaurant on a weekly basis. We had a good discussion about jazz and why it's not popular, and how people and restaurant owners prefer pop songs to jazz, when we play for customers. There are the other musicians I meet, talk with, and even jam with. A new singer-songwriter named Tim joined the musical fold today, his first day. We talked about busking, the do's and don't's, although there are really no rules or guidelines. What works for some might not work for others.
Sometimes bad things happen when busking. My banjo player friend was almost robbed last week. He was playing and a young couple walked up to him and the woman grabbed all his dollar bills out of his box and started to walk away. My friend protested. The woman hollered back at him, "What you gonna do about it, bitch?" My friend went after her with his banjo and threatened her, her boyfriend stepped in, a store owner called the transit police who came and told my friend, he shouldn't be flaunting his money out there for people to see, and that it was basically his own fault. He got his money back, however. A senior cop later explained to my friend that he was, in fact, within his rights. However, no charges were filed. It was a blip on the screen. Just another day at Suburban Station.
Which reminds me of the woman I wrote about last week, who asked me why I felt I should give to Haiti and not to the homeless right here in Philly. She resented it that I also "flaunted" the money I made (for Haiti) for all the homeless walking by to see.
I understand where she's coming from, although I don't know what the answer is.
Nothing is black or white. The couple was able to attempt to rob my friend in broad daylight before twenty witnesses. The cops at first sided with the would-be robbers. Flaunting was the charge, and my banjo buddy got what he deserved. Welcome to Bizarro World.
Si, el mundo es loco.
And tomorrow I'll return to busking, perhaps a little wiser, remembering not to flaunt the kindness of strangers, and friends. I will sing my heart out and look forward to seeing perhaps Al, or Austin, or one of my other new found friends....
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