How things have changed in the sixty years since I left this farm for college! Our former American middle class is on its way out. A few predator types at the top of the economy have decided to corner all of the world's wealth. Every one else is on a slow slide to the bottom. So much so that my farm organization, Farmers Union, decided to feature a former ranch kid who told and sang about his issues with bipolar disorder, especially the extreme depression part of it, at the National Convention. He has had a real struggle with trying to stabilize himself to the point he could live a decent life. It was a heartfelt and wonderful session. It touched me. Part of the reason though, was that I thought that his fight against depression individually applied as well to the generalized depression we Americans fight on a daily basis.
He ended with some of Roger Miller's long ago hit: "King of the Road". I thought 40 years ago that this was just a fun and bouncy hit song. This time it was different. I heard the pain under the bouncy lyrics:" . . .trailers for sale or rent. . .rooms to let, fifty cents. . .I smoke old stogies I have found, short and not too big around, I'm a man of means, by no means King of the Road. . .third box car midnight train. . ."
But this won't do. People living like this need a hand up. And that means someone to give them that hand. That means us. We must take back what has been taken from us, so that we can. We must live now as if helping and looking out for others is the most important thing we do, because it is.
I was just listening to my grandfather's audio recording about his hobo trip when he was 18 in the 1920s. He had to beg and then got chain-ganged by the county sheriff in California - to build a road for 25 days. He spent 24 hours in the "dark hole" only able to stand up and had to piss himself. He got in a shoot out and they had to leave his hobo buddy - from a silver mine/gambling outfit in Mexico to a hospital across the border, 4 days horseback. My mom sets he ended his trip by hanging across a train bridge - jungle gym monkey bar style to cross into Minnesota. I need to listen again. hahaha. Thanks for your farm blog!
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