"An American in Paris", a George Gershwin composition, said to have been written either on or about a trip to Europe. George began in Tin Pan Alley, but he was confusing to many contemporaries. And he confused some jazz and some classical. Most likely he fused rather than confused. And to me his best creation, to which I listen only occasionally, is "Rhapsody In Blue". Which said composition was arranged by Ferde Grofe on instructions from Paul Whiteman. A Wonderful thing. Both "Rhapsody" and "An American in Paris".
And a fellow named Billy Williamson introduced me to… who, …well the compositions of both Gershwins and the compositions and arrangements of Grofe. And in our small room at 301 Powers Dormitory at Ole Miss we listened, on Billy's stereo (maybe only "hi-fi" back then) to both Gershwin and Grofe. On Grofe think of "Grand Canyon Suite", "Mississippi Suite", even "Death Valley Suite" but mostly the magnificent "Grand Canyon Suite".
Our other roommate was Fred Falkner, a real Falkner, though a distant cousin to William, "Mister Bill" Faulkner, an author of some repute who also hung around Oxford, Mississippi, USA about that time and place. It was William who had added the "u" to his surname, among some other pretensions years earlier.
Fred, strangely, spoke not only good Mississippian, but also, "apparently", good Chinese. (How would Billy or I know?) Learned from a stint at Yale University he said, but more likely had to do with the military training he received during his time in service, in addition to a stint at Yale University. Fred also said he taught Chinese while at Yale. Could be.
Fred was a Boy Scout person. Really, his choice of occupation for life. I spent some time camping out with him and some youngsters at a place called Wall Doxey (named after a politician of same name) near Holly springs, Mississippi. Now I find my Willard family reunion is being held at Wall Doxey. Seems our old reunion place at Sardis has gotten too hot, maybe too expensive, for most folks.
And me and Billy and Fred years ago spent some time at Babe's, a bar in Holly Springs, Mississippi, not far from Wall Doxey. All Mississippi was "dry" at the time, but Babe would shuffle anyone a quart bottle of beer down her bar. Anyone. From eight to eighty or more. That's the way we drank then, quart bottles of beer from Babe's. Hard stuff, Old Crow or some other bad brand of relatively cheap bourbon we purchased from a place called the "Tent Shack". Mississippi was so dry at the time and the state so poor that only the local sheriffs made money. That is as in "big" money. The source of a sheriff's income was primarily related to the alcohol trade (plus some little more from some gaming table and slot machine deals). There were what we called the "legal leggers" and "illegal leggers". And when the shoot-out at the Tent Shack with the Feds came, and Babe was under watch, we were relegated to the back roads and those who could bring a quart of beer from where it lay out back in a, hopefully, cold creek. Those guys were mostly of color and only dealt in beer. They were a pretty furtive bunch, fairly difficult to find…but mostly the sheriff left them alone. But those illegal leggers who dealt in the hard stuff and in some volume led lives more perilous than a crop duster. Better to become "legal", pay the sheriff and only have the feds to worry about. Anyway, not paying the sheriff generally was not a healthy life-style choice.
And Billy was really William Lee Williamson III. He studied pharmacy and in summers he worked down at a drug store in Vicksburg. There he learned, and could later, mostly, explain, a little bit of both voodoo and hoodoo. Come to think of it, Billy himself was on occasion a pretty good source of booze. Billy would make off with some of the pure stuff used in the pharmacy operations. Usually that was mostly for the two of us when we were low on funds, which actually was most of the time come to think of it, or were assisting with a party and needed quantity and quality at low cost.
And that year, on the other end of the hall at Powers dorm was an Ole Miss cheerleader. A popular guy. He won offices in student leadership. He later sang and danced his way into the United States Senate. Became majority leader of one of the parties. Important guy. I'm not sure but he could have been the guy that decided to use the bottle of shampoo left by some forgetful student in that grand and mutual shower we shared at Powers dorm. He got free shampoo. Then complained of its lack of soapiness. It was not me that urinated in that empty bottle. Could have been Billy, or even Fred.
Anyway those are days of yore. And pretty simple days they now seem.
And today I live in Ukraine. An interesting place. That is, if one stays out of the main businesses in the country. Those main businesses being corruption and what's sometimes called politics. Actually the two main businesses seem pretty much the same to me. One buys one's way into office, or pays for one's friends to be elected in one's stead. This so one can protect one's business interests. Of course these days it takes a gazillion bucks to win one's place in the Rada. So you have to be pretty rich to join that club that, in theory at least, is there to look after the interests of the people.
Those wealthy protectors of the people do have serious problems though. There is real work to be done to protect one's turf once one buys in. I mean serious problems. A lot of these people I think are envious of each other. There are deals to be made. Maybe even sheriff's (so to speak) to be paid. To not deal is, I think, dangerous. It's even more than crop duster dangerous from that healthy lifestyle point of view. Anyway it seems riding in cars, going hunting…and even eating a bowl of soup can be hazardous avocations if the dealing doesn't get done right.
Life stays pretty simple here too if one stays poor.
But, it's interesting to watch all this going on. Funny sometimes to the outsider looking on. Yeah, I mean funny. In a silly Alice in Wonderland kind of way.
The other day seems there was a dispute over something about the Prosecutor General. Seems the executive branch of government brought its army to enforce its will in the dispute. Then they find the parliament has an army too. Maybe it was the other way round. Seems a stalemate ensued. Guess one of the Supreme, Constitutional or other courts may have to get involved. Yes. No. A joke?
Why didn't somebody think to give the judiciary an army too? They might really need one if they ever were to make a decision (fat chance) and need to enforce it.
Wouldn't it be great to see some of leaders in negotiations to solve some of these great problems?
Imagine.
A fly on the wall listened quietly to the language of the negotiations. Examples from the conversation (translated from the Russian and the Ukrainian of course):
"Yeah, so's your ole man.
"Yo mama wears combat boots."
"You're fat and ugly too."
"What'd you say, scarface?"
"Is it time for dinner yet? … I don't want soup again."
"Yeah, let's go home."
"But let's agree…on something."
"Ok, tovarish, a new prosecutor general maybe?"
"No, no."
"Maybe elections in November?"
"How about September 30th?"
"Ok, but only if your fingers are crossed too."
"Sounds right. Ready for the big football game?"
"Yeah, meet you there."
"Hey, what about me?" "I have something to say."
"Sorry doll, we forgot you were here. You can come to the match too."
I'm an American in Perish. A new name for this borderland?
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