The Buffalo Springfield song “For What It’s Worth” has some interesting lyrics.
Designed to stop you in your tracks. Hold up what you are doing. And crank that head around. To really see what is taking place, behind the scenes. And all around you. During the 1960’s with the Vietnam escalating, racial tensions building, and all that dang burn rock music from long hairs smoking those funny left handed cigarettes. Driving VW multi colored way way under powered micro buses. Preaching peace, love and change… she is a comin’. The times, they are a changin’ for sure.
The burning flags part always bothered me the most as a little kid watching a black and white Walter Cronkite “that’s the way it is” nightly newscast.
Even though I know we enjoy American freedom of expression. Heck, I’m a Maine blogger, hello.
“There’s somethin’ happenin’ here
What it is ain’t exactly clear
There’s a man with a gun over there
Tellin’ me, I got to beware
I think it’s time we stop, children, what’s that sound?
Everybody look what’s going down”
Nobody’s Right If Everybody’s Wrong.
Change. It is a slow process.
That if delayed, put off suddenly picks up speed. Increasing pressure and then watch out. Something’s got to give, evolve. This has to stop. And fingers in the dike won’t let the band-aid approach continue. Radical sudden change gets your attention because it is not comfortable, causes pain. Because it is thrust upon you. Out of control. You have no input. And like being shook awake in the middle of a night deep sound sleep. Told we got to hurry, get out of here. Grab just a few things and come on. Quickly. Or else. Or else what?
Change thought out and done before it becomes a do or die desperate situation is best. Goes down easy, everyone gets resolved to the fact this is the lesser of two evils. Signed on, added their two cents. Feels like they have skin in the game. Best and only course of correction. But along the pathway lots of humming not singing because no one knows the words. That have not been written yet. Write the sheet music together, after the playing it by ear first with constructive, proactive not reactive discussions. Taking very good notes, with creative shorthand.
Maine has lots of small towns, is mostly rural. With 108 burgs, villages, plantations and townships under it’s Vacationland utility belt, change can happen quicker. When the landscape is tight, local, community spirited by volunteers that are not in it for the money. But for their family, to stay in Maine and not uproot to head out of state over the long green up and curved steel bridge. Forced to flock to larger impersonal urban areas that are not a panacea.
So when you have a governor wanna be who preaches lets cut off the aid to smaller towns that drain our resources.
That hold us back, maybe should be left behind, cut off. That says aid to their roads and intrastructure should be examined. Dismantled like the rock concert stage taken apart at two in the morning by roadies. The bus hitting the highway by sunrise at the crack of dawn. Whoa. Cue the Jackson Brown song about stay, just a little bit longer. With the piano solo and just him. Under the one single white hot spot pool of bright light center stage.
Hold the phone, the call from the Governor. Those rural townships, the unorganized “T” this, “R” that areas ARE Maine. Don’t count them out yet. The two Maine’s premise of North and South pitted is like a couple always fighting. But not seeing the need to move beyond to something greater. Bigger than the two of them called unity, unison and change. Discussed, what if this, how about that. And review of what other areas with the same struggle are doing, or should not have done. The problem gets fixed on the local level and goes the other way, up the chain. Not in Oz behind the shimmering lime green sequined curtain.
Mainers are resilient, small town proud, family is everything, live within your means wired for long term. And will put up with a lot to live with less of the non essentials. To survive and make the most of what they do have. Working on what they lack but over time, with right thinking can obtain collectively as a small town. To win, you have to play together. But that change change change as Aretha Franklin belts out, reminds. How to do it and who is driving the bus? Is everyone on the same run? Or thrown under the wheels?
Small Maine towns are not a gangrene of a limb to be removed because it no longer has purpose or threatens the owner like a disease.
I always thought sending money to Augusta and watching it trickle back caused a knee jerk delay. Reflexes work best when unrestricted and spontaneous. To react, get out of the way when you see something big coming. But now local control has been ham stringed because everything is run through the central office up on the bridge of the RMS Titanic. Say, more lemon in your tea? BRrrrr.. brisk weather tonight. Who’s up on lookout?
Local Maine towns are resourceful, but have to hammer out the new armor for the plan of attack to survive, change, prosper. Less big government and more local hands on, grass roots is what Maine is all about. Has to get back to and remember it’s roots. Who rewrote the job description of what each Mainers has for responsibilities? (To be continued….)
Maine, say what you are thinking, brooding over and get it out in the open. Off your chest. A tad crusty, outspoken but you always know what is going on in a Maine conversation. Common sense, no punches pulled, plenty of outdoor living. And big time small town proud. That’s Maine plain and simple.