There I was, walking home from the gym, on a fairly sunny LA day, my Beats Earplugs hanging down upon my neck like a librarian wearing a beaded necklace to hold a pair of glasses while combing the stacks for just the right book. I thought I had chosen my WorkOut Apple PlayList, the category of music with lots of get ready to dance and sweat music, wanting to continue feeling energized, as I had a decent workout, and was grateful to whomever the workout Gods might be for providing me with the stamina and motivation to keep both my mind and body in condition, and of course my free gym membership via the Silver Sneakers Program. Of course I passed the very LA juxtaposition of the newly produced Maserati SUV rushing the yellow light as the woman with three plastic bags and a borrowed shopping cart was trying to make it to the other side without being run over, all under the plasticized photo of a giant Kylie Jenner billboard, still wishing us a Merry Christmas. I had been pissed off earlier in the morning trying to vaguely listen as Trump could give a shit regarding a Government shutdown, and the inane and insane commentary of whether a shit hole, or shit anything was an appropriate way for anyone sitting in the Oval Office to communicate.
I passed a few younger people, and wondered are they “Dreamers,” and dare I ask if their lives have turned into Nightmares, just because Trump and many of the GOP politicians are indeed racists. My husband Joe, has tried to get me to be less stressed by this whole Russian/RNC/Trump coup…but nonetheless, I NEVER want to look back at my history and say I hadn’t tried for equality, for freedom and for truth. And then as I too just barely made it safely across LaCienega Blvd, like the homeless woman the song ‘Praying For Time’, by George Michael, found itself inside my Beats Earplugs, and as I stood watching the lady with her three huge plastic bags trip over a man lying on the sidewalk, legs spread apart with some kind of wide water like stain shouting out from the crotch area of his pants, I stopped. I could see the world around me, I could smell the aroma from the Marijuana Clinic, I could hear some asshole swear at a pedestrian, but I became transfixed, both feet stuck. Suddenly as the lyrics to the song ‘Praying For Time’ echoed in my head, all I wanted to do was scream, then cry, look up to heavens and ask WHY!
Music has always been my mentor, my motivation, it has been the crux of my memories, and the way forward for my adventures. The lyrics of ‘Praying For Time’, by George Michael, became the perfect therapy for the dialogue swirling around my brain, not just today, but ever since good things have happened to bad people, and good people have had to suffer the consequences.
“These are the days of the open hand
They will not be the last
Look around now
These are the days of the beggars and the choosers
This is the year of the hungry man
Whose place is in the past
Hand in hand with ignorance
And legitimate excuses
The rich declare themselves poor
And most of us are not sure
If we have too much
But we'll take our chances
'Cause God's stopped keeping score
I guess somewhere along the way
He must have let us all out to play
Turned his back and all God's children
Crept out the back door
And it's hard to love, there's so much to hate
Hanging on to hope
When there is no hope to speak of
And the wounded skies above say it's much, much too late
Well, maybe we should all be praying for time
These are the days of the empty hand”, ‘Praying For Time’, by George Michael
