Who Dad?!

When Everything Changed!

As Frank Zappa once noted: "There is more stupidity than hydrogen in the universe, and it has a longer shelf life." I miss Frank. Whatever happened to all of those fathers and mothers of invention?

My dreams have freezer burns

We are so divided that some essential split in human nature must be being revealed. I understand the power of fear and anger, but what has thousands of years of civilization accomplished if it hasn't given us the ability to synthesize what we have learned, consider alternatives, and make rational decisions for the betterment of our species?

The Evil Ones have perfected their techniques of control, manipulation, and thievery.

Wait! I don't know any Evil Ones. (Funny, in these past months, I have learned to roll with these non-sequitur insertions into my writing process. In fact, it has become to feel like some inner dialogue.)

I have imagined all kinds of doom scenarios, both man-made and natural. It's a hobby of sorts. But I don't really think some evil entity is plotting behind the scenes. I used to think it would be wars for oil or wars for water that would tear things apart. (If there are historians left after this truncated civilization, they will probably joke about how the Oil and Water Wars didn't mix very well).

Now though we have fast mutating viruses and bacteria, a climate on steroids wrecking everything built, and madness. I didn't see so much madness coming.

I have always been curious about what would happen if we saw an end coming. Usually, when individuals know that their end is near, they have certain distinct reactions that range from reflecting upon their lives, making amends, passing out the love they were perhaps stingy with, or going out and living some life with more gusto.

But that's not what is happening. There are more looters and shooters than those living and loving.

Whatever happened to elder wisdom guiding the young? Shouldn't there be some kind of Elder GPS available? You know, before one asks a device how to proceed, consult a wise voice about why or even if you should go.

No one sees seniors anymore. They seldom leave their guarded gated communities or assistance facilities, but if they have remained sane, couldn't they be uploading what they know somewhere, making instructional videos, or operating help lines? We certainly need help.

I know, I too remember everything we said (somewhere in my head) from when we were young and set to change the world — if only those old fogies would just get out of our way.

When did humans stop gathering around fires, sitting in circles, listening to the voices of those who had lived the longest, who had seen and done the most?

Was it our generation that messed things up, stopped listening to those who knew more, believed we knew what was best for ourselves and the planet?

It must have started to go wrong before us, right? Maybe it was the perpetual search for the fountain of youth? If people were always glorifying youth, why wouldn't the young think so highly of themselves? But was it too late to turn it around? What if we thought of our grandparents instead as fountains for the youth?

Wanting to hear the voice of elders speaking in their raspy range, wanting to move slowly with them, chanting blessings and spells together that might urge us forward and upward from this dark place, and — not knowing what else to do — I put out the call for the drum group to gather.

Considering travel and weather concerns, we picked an indoor venue, a spacious art studio of one of us, but only half showed up. So it goes these days. We gave it several attempts, but anxious talk filled the air more than any beat. Sustained rhythm escaped us, as if something was containing our energy.