November 11, 2008 by PT Rothschild.

A SENIOR SINGS HIS WAR STORIES

Temecula, CA – As long time readers of this online publication know, I speak of the ‘scene’ in many of my stories. Each time, I try to illuminate a different facet of the scene, because the scene is special, particularly to a writer. A scene is magical, like Santa Claus, Tinkerbelle, and Bugs Bunny; or a balmy late October breeze that happens to blow through. Last Friday, a scene breeze blew through a novel place, a really novel place actually, and of course, I was there.

A day off work means time to taste some wine around these parts, especially on a Friday. A call put in to Ivan (of Ivan Promotions) who had just returned from saying his ‘goodbyes’ to his aged granny up in San Francisco, got my desired effect in bringing some cheer to his mood. So Ivan and I headed out to the Ponte Family Estate to taste some of T-Town’s finest crushed grapes in the afternoon sun. After getting our swerve on but not over the limit according to my latest gadget from ‘Q’ over at Premiere Innovations, a portable breath analyzer, we headed for a quick pit stop and a meet-up with two female friends. It was then that Ivan reported to me that the band War Stories was doing an acoustic set at Barnes & Noble, and that was our next stop.

Arriving fashionably late, we hustled to the back CD music section away from the books and novels. We found a nice crowd of maybe 60 or so people enjoying the acoustic accruements of Evan, on vocals, and Reid, doing chores on a snyth of some sort for accompaniment. The strong, clear timbre of Evan’s voice, captured so well on their self titled CD, and in live performances at both The Vault and Cuppy’s back in the day, was evident as the crowd was held in sway. But as I said earlier, this was a scene moment, so the words in the WS CD sleeve ‘I look up to my father. He is a hero to me.’ came to pass. Evan said, after the applause died down, that he wanted his father to play guitar on ‘What Does God See’ because his dad played the song better than he did. At this point an older gentleman stepped up to the mic and put on an acoustic guitar to strike the opening chords of the song. Being familiar with the song, I was amazed at this ‘new’ guitarist’s acoustic rendition of the song. After that song, the father and son duo did an original of dad’s titled ‘Jezebel’, before dad, aka, Larry Robinson, did a solo number prior to the show closing.

After the show I got a chance to speak with Larry and was given a CD of Larry’s. The CD, titled, ‘Old California Town’, is very professional, well engineered, and above all else, demonstrates that indeed the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. Though the songs are in a more ‘Americana pop’ genre, the same solid vocals and crafty lyrics are found there in abundance, just as with the War Stories outing. Needless to say, both father and son have been getting heavy rotation on my system of late. Though I recommended the WS CD back when I first reviewed it, I have to say that if you ever come across the elder Robinson in concert, and would like to hear just where Evan got his ‘chops’ from, pick up ‘Old California Town’ from Larry Robinson, and tell ‘em PT, Virgil, and Ruby sent ya. You’ll be glad you did. Witnessing two generations of extremely talented musicians performing together on one stage acoustically isn’t a ‘music show’, it’s a ‘novel’ scene.

(Photo credit - Nicole)

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November 11, 2008 by PT Rothschild.

“In the last days, a man will come out of nowhere and bring solutions to the world’s problems” – MY GRANDMOTHER, sometime before 1970

Temecula, CA – In the last days of 1969, I saw my grandfather listening to a fiery speech on the radio by either Stokley Carmichael or H. Rap Brown. I was surprised to see my grandfather so interested in something that I felt was more my thing, a young man’s thing.

He looked up and said, “I’ve waited a long time to hear (a black) man say those things.” He then said, “I’ve seen society go from a horse and wagon, something that existed for thousands of years, to landing on the moon. I shudder to think of what you will see in your lifetime.”

I can’t remember when, but sometime after puberty, I realized that along with good and bad, there also existed Evil. After getting the Armageddon analysis of things to come from my mother and grandmother, my grandmother added one more thing.

She said, “In the ‘last’ days, a man will come out of nowhere and bring solutions to the world’s problems”.

I wish she was alive now so I could quiz her more on where that prediction came from, but last Tuesday night, election night, I could feel a number of my family and other friends, all long deceased, gathered around me much like back in the day when we would all gather around the B&W Philco television set to watch Sammy Davis, Jr. or Nat King Cole, or some other black entertainer who appeared on the ‘white’ run and controlled entertainment industry. It was always a matter of pride to see ‘one of our own’ on TV and we all flocked around, like a crowd rubbernecking at an accident, because it was something out of the ordinary.

The other night it was like that again, all of us gathered around to see one of our own, appearing where before only a ‘white man’ had been in control. But this time it was different. The vibe around me was one of deep contentment and supreme satisfaction. I could feel the smiles and teary acknowledgment in the room with me. Personally I have grown so past that time of B&W TV, of B&W separation, of B&W relationships, especially friendships. It doesn’t seem that long ago when I actually met Dr. Martin Luther King and our youth desegregated the lunch counters of Louisville, KY.

In fact, I feel like this was a part of Dr. King’s dream, a part that he didn’t articulate necessarily but a part of his dream just the same. For he realized long before coaches, that ‘black’ men could play the same sports, work the same positions as their white counterparts, realized before the military that ‘black’ men could be jet pilots and astronauts, in other words, realized that the only real difference between ‘black’ men and ‘white’ men, aside from their perspective mindsets, was their skin color, a feature dictated by God.

This very principle was demonstrated by Obama, who regardless of what he looks like, is half black (African) and half white (American). He could have just as easily been able to ‘pass’ (as white) as the first ‘black’ president elected about 200 years ago did had his skin color been lighter. (I remember seeing the news article about that first ‘black’ president from my Uncle John, who was a distance ancestor, but don’t ask me that President’s name, although Van Buren comes to mind, so he was at least elected around that time frame. It, his mixed ancestry, was discovered a week before the election and the news delivery system being what it was in those days, never got into the public domain to make a difference in the election. Once elected, the whole matter was swept under the rug, and forgotten. I know I was impressed when I read both the newspaper story on yellowed parchment and a hand-written letter denoting the same fact.)

Regardless of what the ‘news’ now wanted you to think, or the commentators said, this election was mostly about ‘race’. In my opinion, 50% of the people who voted for Obama, voted for him because of his skin color. The other 50% voted for him because he spoke and acted like a smart person, an educated person, a thinking person. And why shouldn’t he? He was educated at Harvard, one of the premier colleges in America. Even the Fates seemed in favor of him, with his beloved grandmother passing just a day before the election, like in some Divine movie script.

In McCain’s tent, I would guess 80% of the people who voted for him, voted for him because of his skin color and the other 20% because of Sarah Palin, their chosen MILF. Gone is the last bastion for rednecks, both white rednecks and black rednecks. Now a ‘yellow’ man, a ‘red’ man, and a ‘brown’ man can dream of becoming President of the United States one day. Now this country belongs to all her citizens, united by one man who is half of each of the two largest segments combined. Although I would have liked to have all my relatives alive to see this moment of history, my fellow wordsmith and Midwest transplant, the ‘Nickel Sac’, summed it up nicely when she said, “I am glad WE got to see this day.”

WORD!!

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