The Name Game by Shirley Ellis
Or “Karl Karl bo barl. Banana fana fo farl. Fee fi mo marl. Karl.”

You have seen video of MC Rove rapping at the Radio and Television Correspondents Association dinner recently, haven’t you? If you haven’t you should. What a hoot that guy is. I mean who’s hipper?

Well that video got me to thinking. Not about politics, not about the rightness or more likely, wrongness of Karl Rove rapping. What it got me to thinking about is what great parties this administration must throw, about how much fun it must be at those parties. Now I’ve never been invited to one of their parties, have you? But, following MC Rove’s performance, I can only imagine how cool, how hip, (No, Rummy, I said hip, not hep. We don’t really use that word in this century.) their parties must be.

The first person I imagine seeing after making my way past the rappin’ MC- well, wait a minute. MC Rove is just too timid a name for such a wild and crazy guy, it’s just too, shall we say, conservative. K Rove, that's better, that’s the name, K Rove. “Excuse me K Rove, don’t want to interrupt your rap but can I please squeeze by?”

“No worries, dude,” He might say, “Let me show you around, introduce you to the crew, yo. This here, this here’s Chain-E. You know Chain-E? Most powerful man in the world.”

“Oh, umm, I thought he was the second most powerful man in the world. I thought George Bush was the most powerful man in the world,” I would reply.

"U-U, nahh. He thinks them boots and big ole buckles make him manly. We laugh at him. That’s why he messes up when he speaks so much, cuz he knows we’re all laughing at him,” Says K Rove laughing.

“U-U?” I say.

“Yeah, that’s what we call him, u-u. Short for W, double u, get it?” And here K Rove begins to breakdance. Luckily, Chain-E ambles over to introduce me to some of the other people. To my surprise, Chain-E is wearing long denim shorts, a basketball jersey, Nikes and a baseball cap turned sideways.

"Hey," he says to K Rove as we move away, "Is Allie-G here?"

"No," Replies K Rove. "He had to stay home. He's trying to remember what he forgot or forget what he remembered, I'm not sure which. There's some hearing tomorrow. Democrats, you know."

Chain-E nods, “Those people, why do they need to know the truth? Come on, come meet Condi Mint,” He says as he leads me towards a man and a woman dancing in the corner of the room. “Hey Condi Mint, 2 Cent, come say hello.” Condoleeza Rice and Bill O 'Reilly stop dancing and head over to say hi to me. They shake my hand but as John Ashcroft heads over, they quickly move away.

“Oh, him,” Chain-E mutters. “Hey man let’s go, that’s John Ashcroft. He’s a drag.”

“John Ashcroft, you just call him John Ashcroft?” I can’t help looking baffled.

“Yeah, I know,” Chain-E replies as he leads me away, “We just couldn’t come up with a more urban name for him. Hey, that man couldn’t find soul if you dropped him off in the middle of Harlem with Sam and Dave to help him search.”

I nod because I don’t think I can disagree. “There goes Oxi, Ox for short,” Says Chain-E pointing out Rush Limbaugh.

“Ox? Is that because he’s built like an ox or because of his, hey, isn’t that a bit insensitive?”

“You are what you are,” Chain-E replies, insensitively. “And here, here’s someone you must know. You call her Ann Coulter, we call her Ice Ice Baby. She’s cold, real cold. Don’t wanna go near her. You hear what she said about John Edwards?” Chain-E asks laughing. “You wanna know why I think she said that? I think she said that cause she has a thing for him and he wants no part of her. I don’t think he’s what she said; I don’t even care because, you know, I have a daughter and…never mind. Anyway, I think the problem is her, not him. She’s a total turnoff.”

As we chat K Rove comes over to join us. “Didn’t think we could get down, did you? Y'all think - that's how u-u says it, y'all - y'all think we can’t move, don’t you, that we can’t dance, that we’re all stiff. Well, why don’t you go and tell your liberal friends the truth about us. We’re just like everyone else. We party, we dance, we’re not all stiff.”

I will, K Rove, I will. The problem is that video. I’ll tell people you can dance but there is that video and I know for a fact, it’s going to contradict me.

If You’re Going to San Francisco- Scott McKenzie (written by John Phillips)

Or Our Values Are Just Fine, Thank You

We don't really wear flowers in our hair here anymore so if you're planning a visit, that's one less thing you need to worry about packing. I've been living here almost 25 years now and I can't think of a single time that I needed to break out the ole flowers for my hair. Anyway, imagine trying to get a flower to stay in Gavin Newsom's hair. What chance would a poor flower stem have against that protective shell he calls his hair? Come to think of it, how would I get a flower to stay in my own somewhat (only somewhat) thin hair? See, this flower in the hair thing is very complicated. No wonder it ended.

Another thing I don't think you need to worry about if you choose to visit is the whole San Francisco values thing. I hear it's caused Bill O 'Reilly all kinds of sleepless nights but I'm telling you, it's nothing to worry about. Earthquakes? Maybe. San Francisco values? Nahhh.

I was stumped at the whole fear of San Francisco values thing last year. I couldn't figure out what people were supposed to be afraid of. Would you help Mr. O 'Reilly, would you tell us what is it about this great city and its great people that causes you all that agita? What is it about the values here, values I would sum up with the words life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness (hmmm, sounds familiar. Oh yeah, duhhh. Sorry, now I remember where I've heard those words.) that makes you quake (ha, ha. Get it? Quake.)? What is it that you think the people here are doing and thinking and believing that upsets you so? Working hard? Raising their children? Caring for their community- all of their community without excluding segments of it? Rooting for the 49ers? Sounds pretty All-American to me. I don’t want to be intrusive but, what are your values? How do they differ from ours, how are they better than ours?

Or is it our leaders, our representatives you fear? Is it Nancy Pelosi? Is it Dianne Feinstein? Is it Gavin Newsom? I think I'm on to something, aren’t I? You don’t like what they represent do you? And yet they are our representatives, we've elected them and they represent us and our values. You don't have a problem with the fact that our representatives represent us, do you? I mean it wouldn’t seem fair for our representatives to represent you would it?

What’s wrong with the people here Mr. O ‘Reilly? What’s wrong with their values? It seems to me people here are just people. Honest, hard working, tax paying, USA loving Americans just like you. Maybe you should visit us Mr. O ‘Reilly, maybe you should come see for yourself there really is nothing to fear from us. I promise you’ll be fine here. I promise there are no more heathens in San Francisco than there are saints in oh say, Crawford, Texas. I also promise that whatever you say and however loudly you say it, we’ll be keeping our values. But thanks for your input.

Oh, and if you do come visit, don't forget that it’s okay to leave your flowers at home.

Third Week In The Chelsea by Jefferson Airplane
or "What Would Success Be?"

Here and now I don’t think we truly know what success is. So what might it be, what would success be if we did know?

Would it involve our ideals, whether or not we’ve lived up to them? Would it involve having altered them? Would it involve our finances, the wealth we have or haven’t accumulated? Would it involve having changed our expectations? Would it involve our loved ones, our partners, our children, our parents?

What about the ability to take a walk on a perfect day- a sparklingly clear spring day or a rainy, windy, winter day- would it involve that? What about the ability to have a relaxed, uncluttered mind during that walk, the ability to breathe deeply and taste the air, would success involve that?

What would success have been to us once, what would it be here and now?

“I never did find a place to shine, to express who I truly am…”

“I don’t have much saved. I never really made the money I thought I might…”

“I never did find the right person for me. At least not one that was willing to be with me. I did find some wrong ones though…”

“I had so much fun back then. I’m not even sure what fun is anymore…”

“I made some money but I don’t know if I really touched any lives…”

“You have to be so responsible to be a parent, so selfless. Maybe I just wasn’t cut out for that…”

What is success? What would it be for us, here and now?

Is it time that we understand that it already is what it would be? Is it time to look at what we have and settle into it because it is our success? Is it time to let go of some thoughts and some false needs so we can embrace what our arms and hearts already hold?

We have dreams and they help get us through. We dream we will write, we dream we will invent, we dream we will act or paint or bake. Those dreams give us fuel, they give us vim and vigor. Those dreams give us targets, they give us hope of one day being in a different place. But time passes, we get older and we look around to see that we are not writing or acting and we maybe never will. We think of what we could have been, what we might have done, we see some of our once wide open vistas fade. And the wind goes right out of our sails. We look in the mirror, see wrinkles we’d only ever seen on the faces of our parents and we deflate just a little bit.

But maybe that’s not what should happen, not how we should feel. Maybe we should turn from the mirror, walk into the next room and look at who is waiting there for us, what is waiting there for us. Maybe we should look at who and what we live with and embrace her, embrace him, embrace it. Look at who we are and embrace that, look at the people who love us and hold them tight. Look at their eyes, their smiles and understand what we do have and how fortunate we are for it.

Then when we return to the mirror we can look there for things that need changing and, by all means, try to change them. We should continue striving and improving. After all, that is what life is- striving.

And our dreams, the ones we think we may never reach, what of them? We should embrace them too, embrace them hard. We should let them fuel us, inflate us, invigorate us. That we may never realize those dreams is not the point- they’re dreams. We should let them be dreams. Dreams matter a great deal, and maybe, just maybe when we get to the end of our time they will be with us still. Maybe, just maybe we will leave this world dreaming, still dreaming.

Where is the failure in that?

Almost Cut My Hair by Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young
Or Wait, If My Son’s Turning 20 Then I Must Be…Oh No!

I almost cut my hair the other day except that I wasn’t sure why I should. To begin with, there isn’t a lot of hair there to cut anymore. And anyway, how much better do I look with my hair shorter? Or longer? Am I more presentable with my hair short or long? Does anyone care? Is anyone looking?

Yes, someone is looking. My kids. I have 2 kids. Kid 1 and Kid 2 I call them. Kid 1 is Kid 1 because he was born first. Kid 2 is Kid 2 because she was born second. Simple but elegant, no? I think it’s cute. They used to. Then they grew up.

Anyway, they look at my appearance and luckily for me, they share their thoughts with me. “Why are you wearing that?” Kid 1 asks me. “How would I know if you need a haircut?” Kid 2 replies when I ask her. “Why’d you cut your hair?” She offers when I get home after a haircut. “You look kinda dorky,” Kid 2 says.

“Thanks kids,” I say because I appreciate their input. By the way, do you sometimes wonder how you ever knew what to do before your kids were around to tell you?

What happened to my hair? When did it stop mattering much? I still remember when it did matter, when I had a head full of hair. Dark, thick, curly hair, hair that belonged in the 60’s, hair that was a worthy foe for any barber willing to challenge it. Not like now. Now I have thin, wispy, grayish hair. Barbers scoff at it, there is no challenge for them in cutting it. They send me to hairdressers, “A hairdresser can help your hair,” They tell me, “They have creams and sprays that can help thicken it and bring back some luster. Try a hairdresser.” So I go to the hairdresser but my hair won’t allow any sprays or creams. I think it’s embarrassed.

What happened to my hair? Age for one thing. My hair is even older than the Hell’s Angels! Well, as I understand it not the Hell’s Angels but the Oakland chapter of the Hell’s Angels which recently turned 50. That’s the chapter I think of and I believe many of us think of when we think of the Hell’s Angels. Remember how they told us that Schlitz was the beer that made Milwaukee famous? The Oakland chapter of the Hell’s Angels is the chapter that made the Hell’s Angels famous. For example, even if you didn’t know much about basketball you knew about Michael Jordan and even if you didn’t know much about the Hell’s Angels, you knew about Sonny Barger.

My hair is older than Bonanza! No, not as old as Ben Cartwright, just the show. Come on now, Ben Cartwright was older than our parents, Ben Cartwright was probably older than television. My hair is older than Speedy Alka Seltzer! Actually I Googled him (remember when google wasn't something you did? Remember when there was no such thing as "To Google"? Our kids sure don't). Speedy was born before me so my hair is not older than Speedy, but he appeared on TV for the first time just after I was born. Since he didn't seem to have hair, my hair is older than his hair.
My hair is older than the Pillsbury Doughboy. My hair is older than Mr. Clean. What a cool guy though, huh? Can you believe he got away with wearing an earring on TV back then? My hair is almost as old as Tony the Tiger!

Luckily I'm young at heart if not at hair. My son is soon turning 20. I’m a long, long way from 20. A long way. But sometimes I feel 20. I feel that I could still do things I did when I was 20, I feel I could easily fit in with my son and his friends. Then I look in the mirror. “20!” My hair splutters. “20!” Then it laughs, and laughs, and laughs. But not for too long because it needs to stop and catch its breath.

Stand by Sly and the Family Stone
or"I Am A Liberal"

What’s wrong with being a liberal? When did we decide that the response to being called liberal was to duck our heads and to murmur, "No, no not me”?

I don’t get it. I don’t get it at all. I Am a liberal. Did you hear me? I live in the liberal Bay Area (Berkeley no less). I grew up in the 60’s. I drive a hybrid. Sometimes…I even drink French wine!

Did you hear me?

I am not ducking my head. I am not denying being a liberal. Why should I? Because a portly, pasty man named Dick Cheney who happens to be vice president loudly rails against liberals; accuses us of subverting our country when what he means is subverting what he wants done to the country.

I won’t defend my liberalism Mr. Vice President. I won’t explain it to you either. I will simply look you in the eye and tell you what I think. Like it or don’t. Up to you. But try to keep your anger in check, okay. Remember that I have the same “unalienable rights” (you are okay with Thomas Jefferson aren’t you Mister Vice President?) you have. Remember that those “unalienable rights” (that means they’re not yours to take away) are spoken of in a document drawn up by a group of people who believed that attempts to silence those who disagree with us are not only un American, they are anti American. Don’t impugn my patriotism because I don’t agree with you, think about the Declaration of Independence instead. You say I have to think more the way you do? Think again, Dick.

I Am a liberal. Did you hear me?

If I don’t agree with the administration I will say so and by the way, if I do agree with the administration I will say so too. (When have I agreed with Dick Cheney? I knew you’d ask. I agree with him that the relationship between him and his daughter is personal. I agree that the personal relationship between 2 people is private and should not be politicized unless they choose to politicize it. Of course where the Vice President and I part ways is that I believe this applies to the personal relationships of all Americans, not just the personal relationship between him and his daughter).

Why shouldn’t I speak up when I disagree with the administration? Because a pasty, portly, powerful man named Karl Rove who twists arms and minds wants me to quietly go away? Because he is tired of listening to liberals, because he thinks liberals are too loud but have no spine? By all means Mr. Rove continue thinking that way, continue equating liberals with John Kerry. In the meantime Nancy Pelosi just ripped the gavel out of your pasty, manicured hand. Oh, and I wouldn’t push that spineless liberal too hard. She pushes back. Hard.

Yes Karl, you’re good at twisting words, at choosing the catchy phrases that people will respond to, that will make them believe you think like they do. You want me to think like you do? Well, how’s this for a catchy phrase? Think again, Karl.

I Am a liberal. Did you hear me?

I don’t blindly fall into line and sing, “Hail to the Chief” every time pasty, portly Rush Limbaugh says to. Why should I? Quick question Rush, do you think that if Donovan McNabb were you, do you think if any African American man were you, that man would still have the job you have, the power you have after having the issues you’ve had? You do? You’re trippin’, dude. You really should get out in the real world more, give yourself the opportunity to think again, Rush.

I Am a liberal. Did you hear me?

I don’t get it Mr. Cheney, I don’t get it Mr. Rove, I don’t get it Mr. Limbaugh. You think I’m not as American as you, that I don’t love my country as much as you do? You think that just because you walk around with an American flag pinned over your portly breast you are “Of the people, by the people and for the people”?

Think again Dick. Think again Karl. Think again Rush.

And think about the fact that I’m not ducking anymore. I Am a liberal. If you haven’t heard me, you will. Again and again. Loud and Clear.

The Times They Are A Changin’ by Bob Dylan
or "What Happened to the 60’s?"

We thought we would do it all. We didn’t believe in limits, didn’t really understand them. What was the limit to what a person could achieve to what a person could change? Who but that person could set such a limit? What was the limit to what “we” could do? Did such a limit exist? No, we were going to, had already begun to transform the world. In our wake humanity would rise to the stars, would float with us to the very end of the rainbow.

What happened to the 60’s?

We thought we could have it all. A comfortable house filled with flowers from our garden, with our poetry and with the art we would discover in South America or Europe or Africa. A stimulating, creatively rewarding job helping to make the world a better place while giving us plenty of time to write our poetry and to travel. We would travel to discover art, art that we would purchase from local artisans helping them and their villages grow and flourish. At night we would sit with those artisans in smoky cafes or on starlit hillsides talking about the universe and writing poetry together.

What happened to the 60’s?

Music? We transformed music. Because of us music was both never the same and would always remain the same. With us music went places it had never been to find itself in a place it would surely never want to leave again.

What happened to the 60’s?

And “We,” we were always “we” always part of a greater whole, always part of an ideal. Was ever a generation more defined as “we” than “we” were? Was ever a generation gap more pronounced than the one separating us from our elders? It wasn’t that we excluded them; it was that they didn’t want to join us. Anyone was welcome to join us, join together with us, with “we” to change the planet. No, not the planet but space itself, time itself. We were on a stairway to heaven and everyone was welcome to rise up there with us.

What happened to the 60’s?

When did “we” become I, become me and mine? When did, “Power to the People,” become, “So is there a Whole Foods in your town yet?”

What happened to the 60’s?

How could we have known we would step off the stairway to heaven to find ourselves very much on earth? How could we have known we would change the world, revolutionize the world but not always in ways we understood or were proud of or had any control over?
How could we have known we would consume much more than we would produce? How could we have known that out here in the fields we would find global industries, mega farms not communes or local farmers?
How could we have known we would wrinkle, get flabby, have to deal with irritable bowels? How could we have known we would stop writing and too often even stop thinking about poetry?
How could we have known that “we”, forever young “we” would find living right in our own homes the Great Equalizer, the teenager?
How could we have known that a time would come when music would evolve, when the new Rolling Stones would finally emerge, artists with names like Public Enemy and Tupac but that “we”, open minded “we”, cool and mellow “we” would not recognize them for what they were. That instead we would hiss at them just as Ed Sullivan had hissed at the Rolling Stones all those years ago?

What happened to the 60’s?

Did we lose the 60’s? Are they gone forever? Or do they live on? Does some of what “we” were, who “we” were still flourish? I ask myself those questions, I ask myself if I am who I was, if 18 or 20 year old me would recognize or like 54 year old me. Sometimes I like the answer I hear, sometimes I don’t. And so I’ve decided to spend some time looking inside, looking to find a way to contact the 20 year old somewhere within and again touch some of his thoughts. Then, armed with some of those thoughts I will look at the world around me; the world around me then and the world around me now.

What happened to the 60’s? I wonder what I’ll find.