by Pa Rock
Poetry Appreciator
The very first posting on Pa Rock's Ramble appeared on Sunday, November 4th, 2007, with a piece entitled "Obama '08," a promotion of my notion that Senator Barack Obama of Illinois would make a great President. That prescient piece of political prognostication heralded the way for a thinking and typing challenge that has now seen daily postings for nearly thirteen years. In fact, today's blog post is number 4,746 - which represents quite an inordinate amount of thought and time and proof-reading.
Sometimes I am really pleased with my daily efforts at the keyboard, and other times I wind up making changes over the next few days in order to get it to where I think it is worth preserving. (A few days ago I wrote a column focusing on a couple of examples of Donald Trump's blatant racism, and this morning I was still tweaking that effort to include things that I have learned since it first went up. I want my grandchildren and their grandchildren to see this world that I inhabit as accurately as possible, and if that includes making modifications on the run, so be it.)
A big part of the original intent of The Ramble was to give a political overview of early 21st century America - and the world - that would become a recorded fragment of the history of the times. Another aspect of the effort was to use it to collect some of my personal writings (including pieces of my own family history) from over the years as a sort of personal history of the times. In that vein, the early days of The Ramble contain some of my lame poetry, short stories, and even fifty or so entries from "Doin' the Sales with Rusty Pails," a fiction newspaper column that I used to write.
Pa Rock's Ramble is, at its heart, an eclectic mess.
Ever since Donald Trump absconded with the US Presidency, I have wasted way too much time, energy, and ink in chronicling his ethical and criminal absurdities, and I now make an effort to ignore him as often as possible. Trump, however, manages the news through a skilled combination of shock and distraction, and he is a difficult animal to ignore - even for me.
The piece that I wrote on his latest racist outrages - the one I modified this morning - dealt with, in part, Trump's proposed hate rally in Tulsa, Oklahoma on June 19th (Juneteenth) - a double slap at the black community both for its significant location and its significant date in black history. Trump has since stepped away from holding the rally on "Juneteenth," and will disrupt life in Tulsa on June 20th instead - but he has chosen to stick with Tulsa, the second largest city in a state that he will easily carry in November - and a city where one of the worst race riots in American history took place as the semi-wealthy black populace had their section of Tulsa literally burned out of existence by angry white mobs.
(Oklahoma Factoid: Barack Obama, our nation's only black President, did not carry a single county in Oklahoma during either of his presidential elections!)
Obviously Donald Trump has no political need to hold a rally there, other than he is searching for someplace that will be rabidly enthusiastic for him, regardless of how disheveled he is or how disorganized his speech is.
But, today is Monday, a day that I often link to a poem, and this week I have had Tulsa on my mind. What follows is a little ditty - a poem (of sorts) - that I wrote many hears ago with the idea of building a children's book around it. "We Don't Talk that Way in Tulsa" ran in this space on November 14th, 2007, as the ninth entry in Pa Rock's Ramble. It is the tale of an ornery little boy, and his exasperated teacher, principal, and parent - all roles that I have taken on in life. If you missed it the first time around, here it comes again . . .
We Don't Talk that Way in Tulsa
by Rocky Macy
Today I found a naughty word,
I picked it up at school
And when I said it to my friends,
They all thought I was cool!
After recess my teacher asked me
To describe a certain bird.
But when I opened my mouth to do it,
Out fell that naughty word!
My teacher gasped and stammered
As she said for all to hear,
"We don't talk that way in Tulsa.
You must go see Missus Fear!"
Missus Fear, the principal, asked what I had done.
Had I been a bully, or did I throw a rock?
When I opened my mouth to tell her,
We both got quite a shock!
The principal huffed and powder-puffed
And proclaimed that I'd gone wild.
"We don't talk that way in Tulsa.
You've become a problem child!"
Missus Fear called my mother
Who left work to come to school.
And when my mother heard my word,
She wasn't very cool!
"We don't talk that way in Tulsa!"
My mother yelled at me.
"And if you think we do,
Well . . . well . . . well . . ."
And there it was, another naughty word,
Alive and kicking, loud and clear!
Maybe they don't talk that way in Tulsa,
But that's not exactly what I hear!
Poetry Appreciator
The very first posting on Pa Rock's Ramble appeared on Sunday, November 4th, 2007, with a piece entitled "Obama '08," a promotion of my notion that Senator Barack Obama of Illinois would make a great President. That prescient piece of political prognostication heralded the way for a thinking and typing challenge that has now seen daily postings for nearly thirteen years. In fact, today's blog post is number 4,746 - which represents quite an inordinate amount of thought and time and proof-reading.
Sometimes I am really pleased with my daily efforts at the keyboard, and other times I wind up making changes over the next few days in order to get it to where I think it is worth preserving. (A few days ago I wrote a column focusing on a couple of examples of Donald Trump's blatant racism, and this morning I was still tweaking that effort to include things that I have learned since it first went up. I want my grandchildren and their grandchildren to see this world that I inhabit as accurately as possible, and if that includes making modifications on the run, so be it.)
A big part of the original intent of The Ramble was to give a political overview of early 21st century America - and the world - that would become a recorded fragment of the history of the times. Another aspect of the effort was to use it to collect some of my personal writings (including pieces of my own family history) from over the years as a sort of personal history of the times. In that vein, the early days of The Ramble contain some of my lame poetry, short stories, and even fifty or so entries from "Doin' the Sales with Rusty Pails," a fiction newspaper column that I used to write.
Pa Rock's Ramble is, at its heart, an eclectic mess.
Ever since Donald Trump absconded with the US Presidency, I have wasted way too much time, energy, and ink in chronicling his ethical and criminal absurdities, and I now make an effort to ignore him as often as possible. Trump, however, manages the news through a skilled combination of shock and distraction, and he is a difficult animal to ignore - even for me.
The piece that I wrote on his latest racist outrages - the one I modified this morning - dealt with, in part, Trump's proposed hate rally in Tulsa, Oklahoma on June 19th (Juneteenth) - a double slap at the black community both for its significant location and its significant date in black history. Trump has since stepped away from holding the rally on "Juneteenth," and will disrupt life in Tulsa on June 20th instead - but he has chosen to stick with Tulsa, the second largest city in a state that he will easily carry in November - and a city where one of the worst race riots in American history took place as the semi-wealthy black populace had their section of Tulsa literally burned out of existence by angry white mobs.
(Oklahoma Factoid: Barack Obama, our nation's only black President, did not carry a single county in Oklahoma during either of his presidential elections!)
Obviously Donald Trump has no political need to hold a rally there, other than he is searching for someplace that will be rabidly enthusiastic for him, regardless of how disheveled he is or how disorganized his speech is.
But, today is Monday, a day that I often link to a poem, and this week I have had Tulsa on my mind. What follows is a little ditty - a poem (of sorts) - that I wrote many hears ago with the idea of building a children's book around it. "We Don't Talk that Way in Tulsa" ran in this space on November 14th, 2007, as the ninth entry in Pa Rock's Ramble. It is the tale of an ornery little boy, and his exasperated teacher, principal, and parent - all roles that I have taken on in life. If you missed it the first time around, here it comes again . . .
We Don't Talk that Way in Tulsa
by Rocky Macy
Today I found a naughty word,
I picked it up at school
And when I said it to my friends,
They all thought I was cool!
After recess my teacher asked me
To describe a certain bird.
But when I opened my mouth to do it,
Out fell that naughty word!
My teacher gasped and stammered
As she said for all to hear,
"We don't talk that way in Tulsa.
You must go see Missus Fear!"
Missus Fear, the principal, asked what I had done.
Had I been a bully, or did I throw a rock?
When I opened my mouth to tell her,
We both got quite a shock!
The principal huffed and powder-puffed
And proclaimed that I'd gone wild.
"We don't talk that way in Tulsa.
You've become a problem child!"
Missus Fear called my mother
Who left work to come to school.
And when my mother heard my word,
She wasn't very cool!
"We don't talk that way in Tulsa!"
My mother yelled at me.
"And if you think we do,
Well . . . well . . . well . . ."
And there it was, another naughty word,
Alive and kicking, loud and clear!
Maybe they don't talk that way in Tulsa,
But that's not exactly what I hear!
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