by Ernie McCray

So tired
of people on my TV,
especially during the holidays,
going on and on
about why they
“ain’t getting no damn vaccine
for no damn Covid-19!

by Ernie McCray

When I look at this situation with Mark Zuckerberg hosting harmful bits of misinformation on his social media brands, Facebook and Tik Tok and Instagram, I think of the children who’re watching us, “We the People,” pretty much leave this problem up to him.

And, yeah, this non-caring billionaire should do something to alleviate this state of affairs but I don’t like the picture our children are seeing of us not doing much about these circumstances ourselves – since the PCs, through which we receive so much news that deceives, also allow us to get the skinny about things: the facts.

by Ernie McCray

As the dental surgeon prepared me for a procedure, a mellow rendition of “What a Wonderful World” played in the background.

On a violin. What a nice sound.

When I awoke the music kept playing in my mind. Evoking memories of Louie, the great Mr. Armstrong, Satchmo, singing this song, capturing so much beauty with lines about “trees of green” and “red roses” and “skies of blue and clouds of white” and “bright blessed days” and “dark sacred nights” and “the colors of the rainbow so pretty in the sky.”

As Maria drove us home, I basked in the mood Louie had me in with his images of loveliness.

And I remembered, too, lyrics in the song that spoke to the beauty inherent in human beings, “friends shaking hands saying, ‘How do you do?’”

by Ernie McCray

I think of
the Black thespians
of old
who,
like minors
shaking ore
in water
panning for gold,
separated
the top grades
from what might be “fool’s gold,”

by Ernie McCray

“What musical artist do you resonate with the most and you feel best tells your story?” was a question posed on Facebook.

I could never answer that with one choice, as there are so many singers and instrumentalists on the list of artists who have, at least, accompanied if not told my story over time.

Billie Holiday immediately comes to mind. Hers was one of the first voices other than my mother’s and my dad’s that I can remember hearing.

I was but a child but the sound of her voice as she sang, that sadness and raspy-ness, touched me all over, and melted into my very being, matching what I, even though I was in my infancy, was already sensing intuitively about the world I had been born into near the end of the 30’s.

Loved me some Andrews Sisters, too, their boogie woogie melodies and jitterbugging and jaunty harmonies that led to harmonizing being one of my favorite things to do.