Giving titles to the essays that are produced at this desk is not an automatic function. I suspect that most people would believe that after the essay is written, it would be titled. My mind works in a perverse way. I ordinarily title the piece and then go on to write it. I suspect that many people would hold that the essay must be written before it is titled. But doing it backwards seems to have worked for me over a period that goes back to the days when I was Vice President and President of Local Union 6350 of the Communications Workers of America. In any case, the title for this essay is a fairly crafted one for the essay that is proposed here.
In this essay, I propose to marry a spiritual with our current economic situation. In an effort to provide clarity to this situation, I should mention that until recent years, a “spiritual” was really called a “Negro spiritual.” That art form, which was really a musical art form, arose from the involuntary servitude that white men and women visited upon the black race. Those slaves hoped and prayed that sooner or later, their slavery would be lifted and that they would then enjoy life, even if it was the eternal life that preachers tell us occurs in heaven after death.
I am a great fan of spiritual music because it provides harmony and melody. And nobody provides better spiritual music than a black choir.
For three or four weeks, I have been hounded by a spiritual called “Sometimes I Feel Like a Motherless Child.” That spiritual has hounded me so much that I am sitting here on a Sunday morning trying to write an essay that will please my spiritual hounder. In the essay that follows, the improbable marriage takes place between the spiritual and the current economic situation that assails all of us in this country as well as worldwide.
One of the knocks on spiritual music is that there is repetition in its verses. But remember these songs were sung by unlettered singers and they used repetition as a means of making their message unmistakably clear. In the “Motherless Child” spiritual, the lyrics go as follows:
“Sometimes I feel like a motherless child,
Sometimes I feel like a motherless child,
Sometimes I feel like a motherless child,
A long way from home, a long way from home.”
When that song is sung, the phrase “a long way from home” is extended. There is a second verse, which goes as follows:
“Sometimes I feel like I am almost gone,
Sometimes I feel like I am almost gone,
Sometimes I feel like I am almost gone,
A long way from home, a long way from home.”
Every spiritual known to me contains repetitive lines. That is the nature of the music. Spirituals are not like a Puccini aria or even a Broadway show tune. They are an unusual art form which happens to have a religious connection. While I have no involvement with religious connections, I have from my childhood a love of spiritual music.
Now we proceed to the improbable marriage. It seems to me that when a man has lost his job, as is the case these days, his masculinity is seriously threatened. I assume that when a female loses a job, the injury to her inner self is no less harmful. Losing a job means that there may be no point in getting up in the morning, because there are no trains or buses to catch to go to the place of employment for a job that does not exist anymore.
When a couple see that their house is the subject of foreclosure, I suspect that they might well say, “Sometimes I feel like a motherless child.” Their total life savings are probably tied up in that house, and in a short while it will belong to someone else, perhaps a hustler who preys on people who have lost their homes.
And then there is the issue of health insurance. Losing a job is only the beginning of the grimness here. When a job is lost, inevitably the health insurance goes with it. I am flabbergasted at the cost of health insurance. It is an extravagant expense but a necessary one. When a man or a woman loses a job, and the health insurance goes away, he or she must pray that the children do not need hospitalization and a doctor’s care. Again I must say that in this instance, the person who has lost his job and health insurance must feel like a motherless child.
A political note must be introduced at this point with respect to the cost of health care. A few years back when J. Dennis Hastert was the Speaker of the House of Representatives in Washington, there was a vote to include drugs along with Medicare premiums. Dennis Hastert was under the control of Tom DeLay. The vote in the House was extremely close and was held open for more than three hours while DeLay twisted arms in an effort to prevent the United States government from bargaining with the pharmaceutical manufacturers to get lower prices. In the end, DeLay gave a Representative $100,000 for his son’s campaign for another House seat and the vote was passed. One of the reasons why the cost of health insurance and drugs is so astronomical is because, by law, the United States government is forbidden to bargain with the pharmaceutical manufacturers. This, my friends, is preposterous in the extreme. But it has been brought to you by Tom DeLay, J. Dennis Hastert, and the Republican administration who guided the fortunes of this country for the last eight years.
As you can see, it is my belief that when a person loses a job and faces the formidable task of finding a new one, while wondering how he will feed and educate his family, he must feel like a motherless child. I am sure that people in that circumstance will conclude that they are a “long way from home.”
Needless to say, I hope that this depression is lifted in my lifetime, which is now not measured in decades but in much shorter periods of time. It seems to me that Barack Obama is running the only game in town if we are to escape the clutches of this depression. I wish him well in every respect.
Now as for the improbable marriage, I hope that it is reasonably clear that there are a lot of unfortunate people who are entitled to feel that they are like motherless children. As a survivor of the 1929 Hoover depression, I deplore and hate what has happened to this country. But Obama is attempting to build a strong structure, not like the house of cards that has collapsed on us all. Again, I hope it is understood that feeling like a motherless child is clearly applicable to those of us who are paying the penalty for events that were beyond our control. And so the marriage between the spiritual “Motherless Child” and the current depression may not be so improbable after all.
I have now put the motherless child nagging behind me and I am moving on to another beautiful spiritual called “You Better Get a Home Ina That Rock, Don’t You See?” I devoted a part of an essay to that song but it is so good that on this Sunday morning I am going to my chair singing, “You Better Get a Home ina That Rock.” Spirituals are great music.
E. E. CARR
February 15, 2009
Essay 365
POSTSCRIPT: The wonderful woman who transcribes my essays went to the trouble to look up the full lyrics to getting a home in that rock. Her name is Eva Baker and I believe she subscribes to the Jewish faith. Perhaps if Mrs. Baker continues to be exposed to my thoughts about spirituals, she may be tempted to take up the faith of the Southern Baptists. Realistically, that is a long way off and I know in my heart that it will never happen. Nonetheless, here (see next page) are the lyrics to the spiritual that I am humming this morning.
HOME IN THAT ROCK
Traditional-Spiritual
The Weavers
Pete Seeger
I’ve got a home in that rock, don’t you see, don’t you see,
I’ve got a home in that rock, don’t you see, don’t you see,
Between the earth and sky, I thought I heard my Savior cry,
Better get a home in that rock, don’t you see.
Rich man Dives, he lives so well, don’t you see, (twice)
Rich man Dives, he lives so well, when he dies he has a home in hell,
He had no home in that rock, don’t you see.
Poor man Lazarus, poor as I, don’t you see, (twice)
Poor man Lazarus, poor as I, when he died he had a home on high,
He had a home in that rock, don’t you see.
God gave Noah the rainbow sign, don’t you see, (twice)
God gave Noah the rainbow sign, no more water but fire next time,
You better get a home in that rock, don’t you see.
Better get a home in that rock, don’t you see, don’t you see,(twice)
Between the earth and sky, I thought I heard my Savior cry,
Better get a home in that rock, don’t you see.
~~~
Kevin’s commentary: Once again 2:30 am finds me listening to old spirituals that I would never have otherwise stumbled across. Give this version of “Sometimes I feel…” a listen. I think I liked it better than “Home in that Rock,” honestly, but then again there are bound to be differences across versions.
When I worked as a managing editor in my college newspaper, one of my duties was to come up with pity headlines to make people want to click on articles. I was awful at them. If only I had read this essay sooner, perhaps I could have asked Pop to help me come up with them.