It was many years ago that I first heard Kris Kristofferson's lament about Sunday Morning Coming Down. It was back in the days when I woke up with optimism and delight in my heart. Whilst I enjoyed hearing his sad song about loneliness and misery, I could not really identify with it on a mental or physical level. I was too full of the joy of life and the pleasure of what the new day would bring.
In fact, I almost enjoyed listening to his pain and being reassured that I, as a young 15 year old girl in the far off land of New Zealand had no idea what that song was about all those years ago. I truly did not.
The music of Bob Dylan and the likes were almost foreign to me, yet I enjoyed the songs and their laments about freedom and breaking chains. The worst chains I had experienced were the chains of parental dialogue: which involved me asking questions about my ability to do something and them saying " NO. "
While I was taught at school, I was taught to always question " Who? What? Where? When and Why "
Mum and Dad put food on the table and if I wanted to eat, I would sit down, shut up and eat what was put in front of me.
It never struck me until recently that this is what our governments are doing today.
This is too much reality and it breaks my heart.
The difference of course, is that our parents did it out of necessity and love. My late Dad gave a shit. My Mum, Redhead, still cares what happens to me.
Our governments?
Not so much.
Our governments don't really care about us. They only care about being re elected. So it got me thinking: What would happen if kids could elect who they want to be their parents?
I suppose it depends upon what age the child is.
As a toddler, we would seek nourishment and love, protection and comfort.
As a little one in school, our minds would be seeking knowledge and the excitement of having wonder and worlds of imagination opened.
By pre teenage, to question and seek solutions to why we have to do as we are told or be home because our mother ordained it so. I wonder......
By teenage, we sought romance, read " Romeo and Juliet " and KNEW that love could conquer all.
In our twenties we married. We grew up. We became parents and looked at our children with wonder. How could we create this perfect little human being and fall in love and vow to protect that baby with everything in our power?
In our forties, our children questioned our wisdom. In our fifties, we sat with our parents and wondered where we went wrong.
The difference I guess is that we still held true to the belief that things would get better.
But they haven't. It has been a downhill slog.
Children are growing up without fathers. Without mothers. In so called state " care. "
The bottom line is that the State doesn't care. Why should it?
It is up to us, as parents, grandparents and greatparents to set this right again .
So back to my original question: if children could elect their parent, who would they elect?
I can guarantee they would choose the one that offered them the most.
But years later, I wonder if they would regret the decision they made?
Would they choose the person who told them that they would have a tough journey and that life would be hard work... or would they choose the person who said " Don't worry. Just sit back, relax and become an activist university student and we will pay you. "
We have a serious problem. Not just in Australia or America but all around the globe.
The video is a preview of our world. And it has come to pass.
Well, I woke up Sunday morning
With no way to hold my head that didn't hurt
And the beer I had for breakfast wasn't bad
So I had one more for dessert
Then I fumbled in my closet through my clothes
And found my cleanest dirty shirt
Then I washed my face and combed my hair
And stumbled down the stairs to meet the day
I'd smoked my mind the night before
With cigarettes and songs I'd been picking
But I lit my first and watched a small kid
Playing with a can that he was kicking
Then I walked across the street
And caught the Sunday smell of someone's frying chicken
And Lord, it took me back to something that I'd lost
Somewhere, somehow along the way
On a Sunday morning sidewalk
I'm wishing, Lord, that I was stoned
'Cause there's something in a Sunday
That makes a body feel alone
And there's nothing short a' dying
That's half as lonesome as the sound
Of the sleeping city sidewalk
And Sunday morning coming down
In the park I saw a daddy
With a laughing little girl that he was swinging
And I stopped beside a Sunday school
And listened to the songs they were singing
Then I headed down the street
And somewhere far away a lonely bell was ringing
And it echoed through the canyons
Like the disappearing dreams of yesterday
On a Sunday morning sidewalk
I'm wishing, Lord, that I was stoned
'Cause there's something in a Sunday
That makes a body feel alone
And there's nothing short a' dying
That's half as lonesome as the sound
Of the sleeping city sidewalk
And Sunday morning coming down
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