Blues Can Move Me

Bill Cook, a Lebanon neighbor and car restorer magnifico, shared a video on Facebook. These were my thoughts as Maureen and i watched and listened:

Thank you, Bill Cook.

Before there was sparkle and glitter, explosions, smoke, backup dancers galore, mosh pits, earbuds, sound systems that can blow you out of the venue, and fans trying to take over the show, there was this thing called the blues, and the musicians played their harp and bass and harmonica like they were singing to their women, and it was deep, suggestive, and enchantingly beautiful at the same time, and everyone closed their eyes and listened to the blues men and women singing their hearts out to the one they loved, and the blues folks and the listeners swayed in time, and thumped their feet against the floor and then rocked back and forth and quietly mumbled in time “ahh,” and “yeah,” and they believed; they all believed in the blues, perhaps because they had contracted the blues and understood; and one of the greatest of all the bluesmen was Howlin’ Wolf.

It was good to see you again, Mr. Wolf, and listen to the blues the way blues was meant to be, and sway back and forth and, even at my age, believe in the blues, perhaps even more so than before. It is gone now, at least the way it was born. But i remember. Oh yes, i remember.

Thank  you, Bill Cook.

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