Category Archives: musicians

Living The True Story.

arts education, commentary, contemplation, education, healing, human behavior, musicians, performance, plagiarism, plagiarists, professional musicians, psychology, slum culture, social behavior, social commentary, sociology, The Independent Party, truth, Uncategorized, , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

A guitar player I know just posted a summary of his life, on social media.

Guitar players being legion on this planet, many of us tend to pigeonhole these ubiquitous musicians. We not so subconsciously sort them into: 1.) Great! 2.) Solid. 3.) …not so hot. And, then we go about our lives.

This man, however, was a breed apart. He’d done what our generation would have called “everything”. His fingers traveling so far beyond the frets had been in so many pies, professions, callings. And, because we all KNEW him, we also accepted his life accomplishments as valid. True. No question. They all really happened.

Now, why would we not challenge his veracity?

“We” are the generation that birthed the music of the ’70’s. The last intimate ballad. The recording that just was – no gimmicks; no video enhancements; no synthetic percussion; no studio production. And, we couldn’t have known how important this would become, to that fading value: history.

Oprah Winfrey recently spoke, at a Tennessee commencement*. Her topic? The Impostor Syndrome. By now, we all know its definition: “Fake it ’til you make it.”

And, what has this errant directive birthed?

George Santos.

Liar, extraordinaire. Now, facing the music of his masquerade.

Time was, if you did it, you could prove it; if you didn’t, no way could you find acceptance among the self respecting.

“We” aren’t sure who came up with the outlandish idea that faking anything in order to reach status of any worth was the way to go. One thing is certain: the service industry, just to name one, is rife with its following; how many phone calls to customer support yield “I’m sorry for the inconvenience” and “let me put you on hold”? Too many.

Entire enterprises are populated by the oblivious, whose only observable skills include Googling Wikipedia, submitting a screen grabbed report, taking a long lunch, and leaving early. Gone is what used to be called “toil.” Sweat, and blood. Feeling that good kind of tired, at the end of a highly productive day.

On the other hand, jumping on the treadmill of the masses, striving to achieve, hoping somebody notices – that led our generation to the Land of Diminishing Returns. A life really well lived used to be its own reward; now, we lean back in our proverbial rockers and watch the vastly under-experienced sail past us, some of them actually flying, never breaking basal body temp, and swinging from one brass ring to the next like a cage full of monkeys.

Enter the devices of man, as catalyst. Robotics; artificial intelligence; pre-programmed machines, replacing live workers. Perhaps the current generation in charge feels obliteration nipping at its heels; maybe the going motivation is just getting through the day without losing grip on the ledge.

Yet, the glimmer of hope pulsates. Vinyl records are back. Being able to touch something made by another human, without threat of its virtual presence vaporizing in the next second….

In our collective gut, we sense that returning to authenticity is our only survival. Living the true story – the only path which will lead us away from extinction.

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*I didn’t listen to the entire speech; any thoughts verbalized in this piece which resemble statements she made therein are entirely coincidental (or, channeled?).

Copyright 5/12/2023 Ruth Ann Scanzillo. All rights those of the author, whose story it is(inspired by guitarist et al, Joseph Popp) and whose name really does appear above this line. No copying – in part; whole; or, by translation – permitted; sharing by blog link, exclusively. Thank you for being real.

littlebarefeetblog.com

The Caliber.

brain research, civic commentary, commentary, Deep Questions, education, grief, healing, human behavior, musicians, philosophy, political commentary, psychology, public education, slum culture, social behavior, social commentary, sociology, thoughts, Uncategorized, , , ,

I know three important people.

One is an acquaintance; the second, an old friend; and, the third, my beloved.

All of these are individuals of high caliber. Together, they present to all of humankind in this country we call America the beginning, and the end, of the most important argument society faces today.

My acquaintance’s name is Martine. She is a gifted orator, a devoted mother, and an all around creative. Martine was the first to declare to me that statistics show some 80% of those diagnosed with mental illness are non-violent.

My old friend’s name is Joe. Joe is a lifelong performing musician, and dedicated teacher. Joe owns weapons, and publicly defends his right to keep them.

Both of these are law abiding American citizens in my corner of the Commonwealth of PA.

Two days ago, a man with “mental health challenges” who was undergoing treatment for the disease legally purchased an assault weapon, entered the bank where he worked in Louisville, KY and killed 5 people in seconds – critically injuring the first police officer to arrive on the scene, along with 5 more defenseless human beings.

My response to this life-defying impasse is finally clarified. Please, lean in, and hear how.

My beloved’s name is David. Though his life took a far different path, many years ago David trained at the college level to become a police officer. In conversation, the other day, David taught me about what I consider one of the most pivotal points in this national discussion.

Caliber has multiple definitions and applications; but, in the context of this discourse, the term refers to the relationship between the diameter of the bullet which fits the firearm, and the diameter of the bore through which the bullet exits the weapon. Handguns — shotguns; pistols, et al — are high caliber. High caliber causes the weapon to produce strong kickback/recoil, upon firing the bullet, requiring training to control; additionally, such weapons can only release one bullet at a time, only holding a limited number of bullets in their casing.

Assault rifles, by contrast, are very low caliber. They are designed to fire off multiple rounds as quickly as possible without having to reload, such purpose being to neutralize large numbers of enemy combatants during active warfare. And, because of their low caliber, there is no kickback/recoil; the shooter, requiring no highly developed skill controlling the weapon can repeatedly attack – with multiple, automatic rounds of ammunition – in a matter of critical seconds.

So, what did I learn from all three of these important people?

Taken together, they taught me that a mentally ill person who has access to an assault rifle has the potential to use it senselessly (meaning: out of coherent, responsible mind) and, with the ease of its low caliber, kill dozens of people in less than a minute. And, that’s not all.

Readers, hear me: just because most mentally ill are non-violent does not rule out that the remaining minority – some 20% – of those afflicted won’t become a spontaneous threat. Likewise, if a mentally ill individual has legal access to a firearm capable of easily taking the lives of several people in mere seconds, what does this tell US about how laws should be legislated?

What is the caliber of your intellect and moral capacity? I think you can answer both questions, yourself.

Please, do.

It’s important.

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Copyright 4/12/23. Ruth Ann Scanzillo. Sharing by blog link, exclusively, and that not via RSS feed. Thank you for spreading the word.

littlebarefeetblog.com

He Said, She Said.

addiction, arts education, contemplation, Deep Questions, education, grief, healing, human behavior, love, medicine, musicians, personal testimony, psychology, relationships, sociology, The Independent Party, thoughts, Uncategorized, , , , , , , , , , , ,

He said God didn’t interact in the lives of humans.

She was sure that God did, though she wasn’t clear on exactly how, or when, or what God was doing.

He was a Democrat, but didn’t vote. She was a registered Independent, voting whenever she could choose a viable candidate.

He believed in abortion as part of a woman’s right to choose, and had encouraged women he knew to have them in the past.

She was fervently pro-life, and considered the right to choose a foil for the right to abort.

He had chosen vasectomy as his means of birth control. She’d used the sympto-thermal method, which had included periodic abstinence.

She loved to walk outdoors, but her profession kept her inside 90% of the time. When he wasn’t cooking, he was outside.

He loved dogs, cats, and birds. Her cat allergy was prohibitive and, though she’d always wanted a dog, both her neighborhood and property were not amenable.

He was built of short, bulk muscle, and preferred large motor activities like weight lifting, sailing, and heavy land maintenance. Hers was a small motor gift, expressed on musical instruments and utilizing the tools of visual art.

He was open ended, preferring to go with the flow. She needed closure, almost obsessively so, not resting until achieved.

He enjoyed hip hop and other contemporary music styles. She would choose country over hip hop, every time, but preferred everything from the classical masterworks to ballads to blues.

He was a medical professional. She was a creative and educator.

Her love expressions were gifting, problem solving, and verbal encouragement. While his love language included gifting his was almost exclusively physical release, and she could count on one hand after six years the number of times he complimented her even if strangers lavished praise.

He liked the house cool to cold, often complaining of feeling hot. She had a bit of Reynaud’s, and required a warm indoor environment to keep her fingers fully functioning.

He was a recreational alcohol and drug user, and self medicated regularly. She took prescriptions to treat migraines, one of them with a history of altering mood.

He was an introvert. She was an ambivert.

He regarded talking as a one sided means to vent. She preferred productive conversation and active dialogue.

He enjoyed reading about history and the care of animals. She preferred reading about the current states of society, health, and the cosmos.

He addressed multiple tasks as they came to mind. She made lists, and crossed off tasks as they were completed.

He preferred keeping his personal life details private. Her imagination led her to question the veracity of his disclosures.

He was fiercely in need of making all decisions on his own, including those which she believed were her exclusive domain. She was the most independent woman she knew.

He preferred to live within a small sphere of his own influence, rarely seeking answers. She was constantly curious, attracted to the speculative universe of unexplored possibility.

He resisted all forms of perceived control. She perceived his resistance as a stubborn need for absolute power.

His behavioral standards were focused on self comfort and sustenance. Hers were built around self protection and preservation.

His, from early childhood; hers, from every aspect of her social realm, theirs was a trauma bond.

He said. She said.

In spite of everything and against overwhelming odds, they had found themselves unable to break free of that which had kept them intersecting in each other’s lives.

To call this a relationship was to stretch the limits of human definition. Only God could name it.

He said God wouldn’t. She was still waiting.

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Copyright 1/21/23 Ruth Ann Scanzillo . All rights those of the author, whose personal story it is and whose name appears above this line. No copying, in whole, or part, or by translation. Sharing by blog link exclusively, and not via RSS feed. Thank you for valuing the rights of original material.

littlebarefeetblog.com