Daily Blues & Views

 Portland is doing its best imitation of Death Valley today.  Another record falls today.  As I write today it's currently 108 on its way toward 112 or 113.  Just for curiosity's sake, I checked on Death Valley.  It's 120 the same temperature it was on the day I visited that marvel of a landscape about 40 years ago. While many in the Pacific Northwest are strangers to this kind of oppressive heat, I grew up in Southern California and recall days in July as a Little Leaguer when 3 digit temperatures threatened to cancel our games. They never did. Coming home to a cool shower and some cold watermelon were always waiting and made for a most relaxing end to the day. When I lived in Texas, the heat was laced with humidity.  Same for the time I spent in Louisiana.  I remember one Sunday morning in New Orleans when I was meeting some friends for brunch in one of those old Garden District homes converted into a restaurant.  It was only about a half-mile f...

 The past few years I've been thinking about memory more and more. What gets retained, and what does not? What drifts away and what finds its way back with a little help from our friends? Lately, too, I've been finding that not only does my memory play tricks on me from time to time, but some things that remain crystal clear in my mind are no-shows in the memories of close friends of mine.  Close friends who were right there with me at the time. Loss of memory with age is to be expected.  It comes with the territory.  But what I'm talking about here is the loss of various experiences that one would expect to be saved, if not permanent.  This may have to do with the emotions felt at the time.   In my introductory psychology classes, I often asked students to think about their first memories.  What is your earliest memory?  On occasion, there would be a handful of students who can't recall anything before the age of 5 or 6.  Conversely, th...

 We hit the road a couple of days ago.  The first driving marathon since before the pandemic.  I can still do a 12-hour stint, though I don't advise that for anyone.  But when the temps in the Central Vally are three digits and there is a good bed awaiting you in the next state over, nice to know it's still doable. From Portland to the California line is a beautiful stretch.  Still very green this time of year, but also showing the scars of last year's awful wildfires in parts.  Somewhere between Cottage Grove and Roseburg a melancholy song came on the radio.  It was Dinah Washington's version of "I Got It Bad and That Ain't Good." I was reminded of how smooth and distinct her voice was.  Katie asked if that was Billie Holiday and I said that while that was certainly a good guess, I thought it was Dinah Washington because there are subtle differences.  I wouldn't be surprised if Billie recorded a version of the same tune because it's definite...

  Ashgrove c2021 B. Greene The ash grove, how graceful, how plainly to speaking The harp through it playing has language for me; Whenever the light through its branches is breaking, A host of kind faces is gazing on me… -The Ashgrove Traditional Welsh Folk Song It’s often said if you can remember the 60s then you weren’t there.   I was there and I remember most everything.   The music, the sit-ins, the love-ins, and the marches are all vivid in my mind.   The political assinations, the incense, the hair length, and the Black Panther Party were all part of my higher education.   The bell-bottoms, the Army surplus store shirt selection, the Indian moccasins, and Wellington boots were all in my closet.   Dylan and Donovan, and Baez albums huddled around a portable record player with Albert King and a blues anthology or two.   I spent most of the late 60s days on the UCLA campus.   Working part time in the research libr...

 I hate that we have the same last name.  No relative.  Of that, I am sure because my family shortened the original name down to Greene.  She is ignorant.  She rattles on about things that inspire others to label her an "evil lunatic."  She does her best to earn that description.   Georgia Congress person Majorie Taylor Greene was at it again last week with a real winner of a false equivalency.  In her mind, she believes that being "forced" to wear a mask during a pandemic is akin to being discriminated against and treated as a second-class citizen as Jews during the Holocaust.   Of course, this offends many.  It's a classic example of poor critical thinking: a stunning false equivalency that she sadly doesn't get.  In fact, it's very difficult to even use the word Holocaust any more without it being a direct reference to that particular act of genocide perpetrated by Nazi Germany. There was a time, pre-WWII when the word ...

 With the rise of the Black Lives Matter movement and the spate of films this last year dealing with everything from the trial of the Chicago 7 to the life death of Black Panther Party leader Fred Hampton, there has been a lot of comparison between "the movement" then and now.  While the tough work of civil rights never went anywhere in the 70s, 80s, and 90s, the contrast between then and now does prove useful. "What's different?" young pundits ask.  Those of us alive then are quick to reply.  There are major differences.  It seems as if today the people taking to the street to denounce the many questionable police shootings are more diverse than ever before. Black Lives Matter signs appear in every corner and nook of this country.  Despite the persistent existence of white supremacy groups from coast to coast, the evidence of support of black lives is not difficult to find. Another important difference is the use of media and technology.  To be sure t...

 I've been reading the new biography of writer John Steinbeck: Mad at the World by William Souder. Aside from a deep dive into his quirky personality, the book is a wonderful look at parts of central California from Monterey and Salinas up to Tahoe as they existed in the days before the Great Depression.   Steinbeck was a Stanford dropout who lived a free-spirited life in his younger years.  He also had grave misgivings about his ability to tell a story and achieve commercial success as a professional writer.  It's fascinating to read some of the early reviews of his novels and short stories, knowing that he'd go on to receive a Nobel Prize in literature.   In the end, it was his ability to write the definitive history of his times and do it through the voices of the people who lived those lives and spoke in those dialects.  I was also fascinated by the fact that his first publishers were in New York.  Some had difficulty understanding the c...