I have a childhood friend with strongly held political convictions. They do not align with mine.

However, he is (and always will be) my friend.

We got into an intense debate about an issue (it doesn’t matter what it was) and in the process of whittling down our respective dogmas, I realized that the reason he was so thoroughly entrenched is because he already felt beleaguered by those with the opposing opinion even before I’d vomited up a thesaurus of eloquent rhetoric.

I, like a lot of kids, grew up in a neighborhood where you had to fight…it wasn’t an option. Some kids fought more than others and I’m sure I fought the least, but I couldn’t avoid it altogether. I didn’t win very often, but when I did, I felt guilty.

I now had that guilty feeling again. I didn’t want to beat down my friend, I just didn’t want to lose when I believed in what I was fighting for.

So, I gathered up my thoughts and tried to put them into words to express my acceptance of him just as he is and why I think America is so fucking cool.

I can relate to your feelings of persecution. In fact, I’ll bet lots of people can. But it’s not OK to just put one’s fingers in one’s ears and shout “la, la, la, la, la I can’t hear you”.

And while you can’t believe this is happening (to you) in America, I think it’s all baseball, hot dogs and apple pie. Disagreement, dischord, and dialog like this is exactly what America is all about. From the First Continental Congress right up to the John Roberts Supreme Court.

And the reason is very simple: If you find yourself on the minority side of an issue when the votes are counted…you lose. So we argue to change minds and convince others to agree with us…so we can win!

The beauty of it is that when we lose, we don’t have to give up. We can keep arguing. But if we want to stay as one country, the UNITED States of America, we have to accept that change at a national level takes time. So much time, in fact, that we may not even notice that it’s happening until we reach a tipping point.

If you are caught up in the groundswell movement, it’s a victory. If your side is being overrun, it feels like your country is coming apart…it’s not.

God, it sucks to lose. It sucks to lose at anything, but at least the contest isn’t over.

 For the record, my friend and I never fought as kids.

I’d’ve lost…very quickly.

Step one. Check.

Step two…dammit.

Step one….

My love for words didn’t just spring from thin air. To prove that, here’s a poem my father wrote a few days ago to honor Jimi Hendrix’ birthday. Note also that it’s in his favorite form: a series of limericks.

Happy Birthday Jimi Hendrix
by Ken Miller (the elder)

He was born in Seattle this day,
Where the Hawks and the Mariners play;
Where it rains quite a lot,
And Bill Gates sails his yacht ,
While he sips on a rare chardonnay.

In the army he served for a spell;
But things didn’t go very well.
So he left to pursue
What he wanted to do:
Playing songs in a club or hotel.

Jimi later moved east to New York
With no visible means of support.
He was fully rehearsed,
But he struggled at first.
All his efforts were coming up short.

But he didn’t give up on his dream.
And soon he was gathering steam.
And began making hay,
With the way he could play,
In the days of the Johnson regime

John Hammond saw Jimi perform,
And a star was summarily born.
His mettle was proved.
Soon to England he moved,
Where imbibing warm beer is the norm

The Experience later was founded
By Jimi, who soon was surrounded
By groupies galore
Who were shouting for more
From this man who amazed and astounded

For Monterrey Pop he returned
To the States, back when draft cards were burned
To annoy Uncle Sam
In the era of ‘Nam
Jimi’s talent was fully affirmed

At Woodstock he also appeared
On the musical path that he steered
He was seen as a god
Both at home and abroad
By his fans he was loved and revered

But there also were demons at play
Jimi’s brain cells were wasting away
From his substance abuse
Not unlike Lenny Bruce
In an era of moral decay

In his 28th year Jimi died
At the end of a magical ride
He expired too soon
Like his buddy, Keith Moon
With his girlfriend alone at his side

Jimi would have turned 72
On this day and be hoisting a few
But he’s resting in peace
Since his soul was released
And we bid him a tearful adieu

Hey, unless you’ve got another horse in this race, do me a favor and vote for my high school.

I know I haven’t posted anything in a while and for those of you who have been following the South of France thread, there’s one more installment in the works that includes our drive around the Saint Tropez pennisula (talk about yer twisties!).

For those of you who have been following the autobiographical thread (The Latest Installment), I got stuck in the doldrum years after getting together with Donna and before I started writing and playing regularly again. (To me, it’s boring. But, I can’t explain where I am without telling you how I got here so I promise to write it down.)

The truth is, I’ve been busy with the more mundane activities of life (I’m sure  you understand) and have had to travel often and unexpectedly. That’s the reason I cancelled my last show and why I haven’t booked any others.

But…I have been playing and even writing a bit. I’ve got enough rough mixes of new material for about half an album and that’s WAY ahead of the pace of WORK IN PROGRESS (which took me about ten years to finish/surrender). Most of my practice time over the last month has been finger-picking (classical and some folk favorites) so I offer you this Simon & Garfunkel classic as a particular favorite of mine and a topic that has been on my mind as I crossed the half-century mark this spring.

“So…I continue to continue to pretend my life will never end and flowers never bend with the rainfall.”

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