TALK TO THE DADDY

Hello. Come on in. The daddy writes about current events, literature, music and, once in a while, drops something on you from back in the day to make you pause and ponder, stop and stare, and begin to wonder. Who knows? You may start to pace the floor, shake your head from side to side, then fall down on bended knees in a praying position and cry, "Lawd, have mercy! What is this world coming to?" Check yourself! But this blog is NOT about the daddy. It's about you: your boos, your fam, your hood, your country...our hopes and dreams of a better tomorrow. So let's make a pact: the daddy will put it on the track if you'll chase it down and hit him back. Together, we can definitely take it to another level. Shall we?"

Saturday, May 17, 2008

Life is Good

On this day, this Saturday, the daddy won’t be posting about a Republican president that went all the way to Israel to criticize a Democratic presidential candidate. The daddy won’t be talking about a Republican senator who, lacking solutions to a depressed economy or a failed foreign policy, tries to run a presidential race solely by criticizing his opponent.

No, on this day, the daddy is strolling around St. Anthony Main, a small commercial enclave centered on the North side of the Mississippi river, in downtown Minneapolis.

The daddy is standing in the center of a bridge, staring at the water below. It seems to come toward the daddy in waves, somehow calming his nerves, replenishing his soul.

Standing on this bridge, the daddy, for some reason, begins to think of the great African American poet Langston Hughes, of his poem about the river, his first published poem, one of his best. The daddy, who fancies himself as a writer, a poet, stares into the mighty Mississippi and tries to remember Hughes’ “The Negro Speaks of Rivers:”

I’ve known rivers:
I’ve known rivers ancient as the world and older than the
Flow of human blood in human veins.

I bathed in the Euphrates when dawns were young.
I built my hut in the Congo and it lulled me to sleep.
I looked upon the Nile and raised the pyramids above it.
I heard the singing of the Mississippi when Abe Lincoln
Went down to New Orleans, and I’ve seen its muddy
Bosom turns all golden in the sunset
…”

{The daddy forgets the rest of the poem. Damn! Let me see: Senator McCain is 71 years old and sometimes has senior moments. What’s the daddy’s lame excuse?}

The daddy stares into the river again, beneath the waves, shutting out the sound and slowly begins to remember the rest of the poem:

I’ve known rivers:
Ancient, dusky rivers

My soul has grown deep like the rivers.

The daddy looks up into the sky, sees sunrays streaking down into swirling waters and thinks: when the daddy speaks in third person, life is good.

5 comments:

Anonymous said...

Well Mr. Daddy,

It is a beautiful day for a walk, I hope you found even more inspiration. I did read the Bilary article and the Bobbie Kennedy/Obama article. You have made a wonderful POV magazine. Christine

MacDaddy said...

Anon: Thanks for the staying in touch...Yes, it was a fantastic day!

Nun in the Hood said...

SPRING, FINALLY!!! I'm glad you took advantage of it, MacDaddy...Some of your stuff is really deep....Your sou HAS become "deeplike the rivers." (Did today's piece come out of that walk? Lot's of history down there in the deepth of your soul. Keep writing, so we all can plumb those depths!) Water reaches us a lot about wisdom and life....I think I'll take a walk down by the Locks today...It may just lighten me up,too! Even Nuns in the 'Hood need to be refrshed!

MacDaddy said...

nun: Thanks and enjoy your walk!

SagaciousHillbilly said...

Rivers are timeless and so full of wisdom. I have a favorite river that I've sat beside and listened to in some of my toughest times and my best times. . . sometimes I'm not sure which were which. Sometimes the river talked to me and sometimes the fish or other animals talked to me, but it's hard to sit beside a river without learning something.
Go with the flow Daddy. . . that smooth, liquid soothing flow.