What the Bleep do Townes Van Zandt and Steve Earle have to do with HIp Hop?

This past weekend I was fortunate enough to attend and participate in a small, but groundbreaking, event in Denver called "What the Bleep Happened to Hip Hop?" -- a new alliance with MovetoAmend and Hip Hop Congress.

I went into this under the impression that Hip Hop was loud, angry music about ho's, drugs, and violence. I have since been schooled that I was completely and utterly mistaken. That's what they want us to think; "us" being white, middle-aged Americans. I even said in the opening introductions that as a schoolteacher, I only really knew it as something to be "tolerated." There is a strand that fits the above description on corporate radio, but that is only a small branch of the tree. Like yoga and it's many limbs, hip hop is very diverse. I met a group of beautiful human beings who care about their environment, their community, and their art.

They reminded me of another group of musicians that I spent time with when I was with my daughter's father and bass player extraordinaire, David Waddell, back in the 80's. David played for Townes Van Zandt and Steve Earle, as well as Billie Joe Shaver, Calvin Russell, and Blaze Foley. These guys also cared about their music and their art, while making a social comment.

During the two day event, the DJ's, rappers, and beat boys and girls talked about what it means to be a hip hop artist in a time when huge corporations dominate our lives.

I learned a valuable lesson this weekend about culture and community. I also learned something about prejudice and its implications.

I was listening to Mic C talk about his work with Afrikan Hip Hop Caravan. He was discussing his last trip and what he saw there. He described kids wearing big gold necklaces with guns hanging from them. That image exploded in my head and I thought, "That's what I am afraid of...?!"

Wow.

I didn't even know that I was afraid.

I suddenly saw this beautiful, sensitive man in front of me that cared deeply about his impact on the world. He came sharply into focus and this overlay that I had superimposed on him evaporated.

I had met Mic several times over the past year, but I had never really seen him.

I had seen my image of him.

That image was created by my environment and based mostly on corporate media depictions of rappers and African-American men.

I had unconsciously judged him.

I had been afraid of him.

I told the group about my experience. It was scary to admit that I had done this, but the response was beautiful.

Mic and I talked later at the show. He told me about going to Pet Smart and having the clerk not acknowledge him or even look him in the eye.

I felt so ashamed of myself, but Mic gently forgave me.

Blaze Foley used to sing a song about a lady who locked her door as he crossed the street. A houseless person, Blaze knew something about being judged for your appearance and affiliations.

The picture at the top of Townes and Steve was plastered  in the bathroom of Youth on Record amongst a wall full of Hip Hop posters.

Tears came to my eyes when I saw it.

We are more alike than we are different.

We just need to talk to each other, listen, love, and open our eyes.

We are all in this together.

Namaste' ya'll!

Watch Mic Crenshaw's TEDx talk. The content is very similar to the presentation I saw. He also performs and shows a clip from a show in Africa.
Listen, listen, love, love...

'52 Pickup

Namaste' ya'll!

Long time, no see! How ya'll been?

Isn't that a beautiful machine?

I could see myself driving that thing down hill country roads with my hair flying in curls around my face, kind of like when Bobby and I went on the Galveston Ferris wheel.

I would probably have a giant smile on my face just like that, so happy to be alive and with someone I love hanging out over the Gulf of Mexico.

I just returned to my little hidey-hole in Pearland after being up in the Austin area for the past few weeks. It was nice to be with friends and family while I was trying to get some work done on my latest enterprise.

Boy, has Austin changed! I actually spent most of my time in Dripping Springs, Buda, and Westlake Hills. The most dramatic example was when my cousins took me over to this huge shopping center that built up around where the old Backyard was. Damn! It was eerie. Not at all the same place or energy there; they traded groovy Sensei-bud trees and live music for big-box commerce.

Going back to Austin has brought up a new layer of healing and rejuvenation for me.

When I first went to Austin in 1981, I was a wide-eyed teenager with a wild streak. Naive and adventurous can be a deadly, but fun combination. I lived in Kinsolving that first semester and my best bud and I would run across the drag to the Hole in the Wall to listen to music and drink. Soon, we stretched out all along the Drag and beyond. I majored in party and theater, emphasis on the party. That first semester I worked as a dresser for summer stock at UT and took classes. I also studied the best places to listen to music and drink. Austin was full of beautiful men.

I went from dorm to duplex with my older cousin ( he was supposed to look after me.... ), to my own efficiency, to back in with my cousin ( maybe we could look out for each other?.... ).

What do you call a musician without a girlfriend?...........Homeless.

I was able to combine all my favorite Austin aspects: music, musicians, bars, dancing and alcohol. We moved out to the lake on a houseboat, and school just drifted off. Before long I was pregnant, and it was time for this Austin edition to end.

The voices of the ancestors called me back to the Island to bear her as a BOI (born on the island, very important, something I didn't get to be), but I returned her by the time she was 6 months old. I finished my degree, learned to cut hair, and continued to work in theater and film; I also continued to enjoy the Austin experience.

I left Austin by degrees. The house was too small for new babies. From Kyle to San Antonio, we crept away.

I have always wanted to return.

What I have learned is that this is a new Austin, and that if I want to embrace her it will have to be on her own terms, the way she is now, not the way she was...

I used to love to play '52 Pickup when I was a kid. You threw all the cards up in the air, and someone had to pick them all up. My brother used to do it to me, to tease me, but I loved it.

You can put all your cards in order from Ace to King, matching all the suits: hearts, spades, clubs, and diamonds, but when your brother comes along and throws them all up in the air, you're going to have to pick them up. They may not all be in the same order, but they are all there. You may have to look for one or two that might have flown behind the couch. It can be a fun game to pick them all up or a vexing experience. I have tried both. It works best when I laugh and find delight in the hunt and reordering of the cards. It really gets crazy when you throw more than one deck up in the air. Then you have to separate and realign the decks. The more decks there are, the more difficult it becomes.

I'm still working on it. This time I am staying with my cousin again. He doesn't need to look out for me anymore, but he does.

plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose (That's French, look it up!)

Namaste' ya'll!