I read a technically perfect poem about absolutely nothing, by Antony Owen

I will keep this brief. I want you to read this poem. No, I want you to absorb this poem. It is about the Grenfell Tower fire. It is about much more. It indicts “esoterica” and the like. It prescribes a poem’s raison d’etre. It and its message are exemplary. Thank you for attending to this, it may save your soul.


Source: I read a technically perfect poem about absolutely nothing, by Antony Owen

Pete Seeger passes from our midst

I started to write a tribute to Pete for this blog, having just learned today that he passed away last evening,  Monday January 27, 2014. I probably will post such a tribute in due time, given some time to think about what I want to say about the life of this true American icon. In the meantime I want to share the reflections of Lawrence Bush, Editor of Jewish Currents Magazine:


Pete has left us. He died at Columbia Presbyterian Hospital in New York last evening.
For years I’ve been listening to his gorgeous song, “To My Old Brown Earth,” and wondering if and when it would be played at his funeral. You can hear it by clicking the link below.

To My Old Brown Earth

My first experience of thrilling to live music was attending the 1963 Weavers at Carnegie Hall reunion concert. I was 12. The Beatles would arrive a year later and capture my aesthetic sensibility for the rest of my life, but Pete and the Weavers never went into exile for me. I would listen to him in his amazing productivity over the years and always, always be reminded of the fundamental values of international solidarity, love, humor, joy, justice, and faith in human potential that have informed and inspired my life — no matter how often I’ve wanted to retreat from them into a kind of uninspired safety.

Pete was one of the few great souls, and one of the greatest songwriters, of our lives.

My claim on him was slight. He was a Life Subscriber to Jewish Currents. He performed at our long-time editor Morris U. Schappes’ 70th and 75th birthdays three decades back. He encouraged me with notes and drawings and small contributions when I became editor of the magazine in 2002. And over the past few years, we had a few precious phone conversations, in which he invariably told me about his optimism that human beings would work it out — eventually. Now we’ll have to work it out without having Pete to lead us in a sing-along. That makes it much, much harder.

I thank him for the Hudson River. I thank him for “Wimoweh” and “Where Have All the Flowers Gone?” and “We Shall Overcome,” and “Sailing Down My Golden River,” and dozens more unforgettable songs that he either wrote or popularized and then used as organizing tools. I thank him for teaching my generation how to play the 5-string banjo and the 12-string guitar. I thank him for enduring everything from the blacklist to his unwelcome fame with equanimity and undaunted humanity. I thank him for touching my political soul over and over and over again.

Pete Seeger, of blessed, blessed memory.

Summer Hiatus

As if my loyal readers haven’t noticed, I’ve taken some time off for good behavior, which means fewer blogs during the summer. I’m actually hard at work on  new material for “The Lens” – the Special Features section of this blog. If you haven’t checked out the latest in  “The Lens” please take the opportunity to do so. And while you’re visiting, please check the “Essentials” category in the drop down list, and explore previous posts on one or several of the many topics identified in the tag cloud accompanying this blog. The philospher Martin Buber wrote about the need to go up to the top of a mountain, and get away for a while so that one could come down again refreshed and with fresh ideas. I’ll be down soon, with lots to “blog about” communicators and communications.

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