kethrai's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The Group W Bench When I was 21, I went to see Arlo Guthrie for the first time. That was a while ago. Kethrai at 21 was a very uptight young woman. She had reason to be; working hard at college, taking care of a boyfriend who preferred sympathy and money from others instead of medication for his clinical depression. It was not a good time, really; I was terribly grim as young person. (As a side note, dear Unscheduled Reader, I still really lack a native sense of humor. As Helva in "The Ship Who Sings" once noted, I have a sense of proportion, which often provides the same effect...but the humor actually was grafted on later.) Anyway, Arlo. The aforementioned worthless boyfriend had won tickets off the local public radio station, and off we went to the local seaside stadium, in June, in Maine, to see Arlo. June in Maine is an iffy month. This particular night, the fog was rolling in off the water, it was chilly, 2000 people were rattling around in a stadium built for 15,000 like a handful of peas in a 30-quart stewpot, and it was BRISK. Not ideal for a concert. But. If you haven't ever seen Arlo in concert, go. He can't sing, really, and he's okish on the guitar but nothing special (I say this having lived in a folk-music mecca for years. Patty Larkin can burn through a soundboard on a guitar, Arlo sorta strums soggy spaghetti.) But the reason you go to see Arlo is because you must, indeed, SEE Arlo--he has a charisma, a warmth, a magic on stage that, well, can't be beat. So, shivering on that frigid June night, I got lost for hours and stayed warm in Arlo's living room, because, well, that was what it felt like--all two thousand of us caught up in his stories, his songs, and his genuine friendship shining out from that stage. Over the years, I've seen Arlo play a few more times. Alice's Restaurant is one of those songs that comes around in my life just when I need it most; the day that Desert Shield turned to Desert storm, I played it for 2 hours solid on my college radio show. When I was low I would dig it up because, well, in its own way it's a song about an ordinary guy doing ordinary things but with extraordinary trimmings, because, well, when you look at it, that's how we all see ourselves when the going gets tough. The sincerity, kindness, and humor of that song always make me feel a bit less cynical, and a bit more hopeful. But to quote the man, that wasn't what I came here to talk about; I came to talk about the bench. The Group W. Bench, to be precise. If you've heard Alice's Restaurant (and if you haven't, you should) you know that the Group W Bench was where the troublemakers were sent during the draft process. People who were a little off kilter right down to downright criminals. The misfits. The bungled and the botched. I think we've all got a spot saved for us on that bench, at times. Some folks embrace it; they like the idea of being either dangerous or victimized. Some folks are just... a little bit kiltered, as a friend of mine would say., and end up there anyway And while I'm not sure all the categories fit on that bench, really, at least there's a commonality there. Group W Bench: Not Quite Right. I get frustrated with labels, a lot. Personally and professionally, labels have dogged me. I understand the need for them; school funding for helping LD kids, for instance, is key. I just am not entirely sure that labeling one's self does all that much service to the labeled. What am I? A cat mother. A jeweler. An herbalist in training. A stay at home wife. A multiple sclerosis patient. A hedgewitch. A sewing machine operator (not really a tailor, trust me!). A bad painter. A decent poet. A impatient woman. A tempermental monster. A kitchen chemistry geek. A reader.... none of these things are the whole picture. None of them would be the whole picture of anyone else, either. I'm a Sagittarius-- we're given to snap judgements and hasty decisions. Whenever I've tried to probe labels on other folks--or myself, I miss the entire forest looking at one lousy pine needle. Sitting on the Group W Bench is about as close to labeling as I want to get, anymore. Come pick up a pencil, and we'll have a groovy time. We can go out to eat later. I know this place where you can get anything you want. Sooner or later, it'll be a movement. 4:13 a.m. - 2009-02-14 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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