Jul 2022
LOVE AND LOVERS
by
TOD HOWARD HAWKS
Chapter 20
"Jon...Jon," said Bian.
"Yes, Bian," replied Jon.
"Jon, you really do love everyone, don't you?' asked Bian.
Jon paused--a much longer pause than usual--then said "Yes, Bian, I do. It's because Maggie, our Black maid as I was growing up, loved me so much.
"I love all 8 billion human beings on Earth. The problem is that I just haven't had the chance to tell each one of them this. Realizing our goal of passing CAMPAIGN FOR EARTH will be my first opportunity to do so.
"I believe every child is conceived with the innate capacity--"the seed of love" I call it--to love, but that "seed" can only be germinated by being loved, usually, but not necessarily, by one's biological parents. If the child is not loved enough, or tragically not at all, then the child will not be able to love her/himself or others; rather, the child will carry unconsciously varying degrees of pain caused by the child's lack of being loved for her/his lifetime, unless the child is later loved fully by someone else.
"The collective effort we are now undertaking is different from the aforementioned only by degree, not by kind.
"Earth, and the vast majority of human beings who inhabit it, suffer terribly from the dearth of love--not only emotional love, but also from the paucity of compassion, which is a form of love. Witness poverty and hunger and homelessness. Lack of universal quality education and universal free medical care. Profitting from the pain of others. Unbridled corruption and seemingly endless wars. Catastrophic climate change and the existential threat of nuclear holocaust. Life on Earth doesn't have to be like this."
Bian put her arms around her husband and gave him a big, long hug, then the two sat down together on their sofa.
"Bian, would you mind if I played my tape of MOOD INDIGO by Duke Ellington?" asked Jon. Beethoven was Jon's favorite, but he also enjoyed jazz.
"I would enjoy that," said Bian.
While they listened to the music, Jon reached in his satchel and pulled out his pen and a piece of blank paper and began writing a poem. Jon finished writing the poem as the music was ending.
"Would you like to hear the poem I just wrote?" Jon asked Bian.
"Of course," said Bian.
"The title of my new poem is JAZZ LIKE A RIVER.
JAZZ LIKE A RIVER
Jazz like a river, headwaters of ragtime
and blues, new orleans, chicago, harlem,
kansas city, armstrong and ellington, holiday
and fitzgerald, cotton club, 52 street, rapids
and rhythms, ******-induced sweetness
and savagery, swinging swing, rivulets
of cords and discords, til 3 in the morning,
mourning the demise of Bird, litany of
gillespie and davis, brubek's west coast
tributary, coltrane, roach, mingus,
ameriica's sinuous contribution to the
nile and amazon of world's music.
by
TOD HOWARD HAWKS
Chapter 20
"Jon...Jon," said Bian.
"Yes, Bian," replied Jon.
"Jon, you really do love everyone, don't you?' asked Bian.
Jon paused--a much longer pause than usual--then said "Yes, Bian, I do. It's because Maggie, our Black maid as I was growing up, loved me so much.
"I love all 8 billion human beings on Earth. The problem is that I just haven't had the chance to tell each one of them this. Realizing our goal of passing CAMPAIGN FOR EARTH will be my first opportunity to do so.
"I believe every child is conceived with the innate capacity--"the seed of love" I call it--to love, but that "seed" can only be germinated by being loved, usually, but not necessarily, by one's biological parents. If the child is not loved enough, or tragically not at all, then the child will not be able to love her/himself or others; rather, the child will carry unconsciously varying degrees of pain caused by the child's lack of being loved for her/his lifetime, unless the child is later loved fully by someone else.
"The collective effort we are now undertaking is different from the aforementioned only by degree, not by kind.
"Earth, and the vast majority of human beings who inhabit it, suffer terribly from the dearth of love--not only emotional love, but also from the paucity of compassion, which is a form of love. Witness poverty and hunger and homelessness. Lack of universal quality education and universal free medical care. Profitting from the pain of others. Unbridled corruption and seemingly endless wars. Catastrophic climate change and the existential threat of nuclear holocaust. Life on Earth doesn't have to be like this."
Bian put her arms around her husband and gave him a big, long hug, then the two sat down together on their sofa.
"Bian, would you mind if I played my tape of MOOD INDIGO by Duke Ellington?" asked Jon. Beethoven was Jon's favorite, but he also enjoyed jazz.
"I would enjoy that," said Bian.
While they listened to the music, Jon reached in his satchel and pulled out his pen and a piece of blank paper and began writing a poem. Jon finished writing the poem as the music was ending.
"Would you like to hear the poem I just wrote?" Jon asked Bian.
"Of course," said Bian.
"The title of my new poem is JAZZ LIKE A RIVER.
JAZZ LIKE A RIVER
Jazz like a river, headwaters of ragtime
and blues, new orleans, chicago, harlem,
kansas city, armstrong and ellington, holiday
and fitzgerald, cotton club, 52 street, rapids
and rhythms, ******-induced sweetness
and savagery, swinging swing, rivulets
of cords and discords, til 3 in the morning,
mourning the demise of Bird, litany of
gillespie and davis, brubek's west coast
tributary, coltrane, roach, mingus,
ameriica's sinuous contribution to the
nile and amazon of world's music.
