(this is dedicated to Mary.)
Okay. There’s a couple reasons my mind is in this posture right now.
One is that we need to get out the Latino vote for Barack. Nownownow.
If you can help, go here.
Another is that I’m shortlisted for a job doing this sort of music back in California, but….I’m going to take a pass on it, I think.
I have too much going in New England right now, and these people down there don’t seem to want to pay me what I’m worth.
Plus, they’re scraps anyway…
Chàle.
But…..set to pass on Cali for VT or not, let it not be said I forgot who I am.
¡Pinche chingadèra! ¡Lo escribiré, y lo haremos vivo!
tengo mas, homies……
I want to talk about Mary.
I was about 21 or so when I met her. She was one of the sweetest souls I ever ran across in my life. We sat backstage, after the show, in a community center in Tracy, Ca. She talked to me for about 45 minutes. And she kept asking me questions; how much school I had, what would I do if I couldn’t do radio anymore, and she called me Edward. I go by Eddie or Ed, but she called me Edward, in the way of most older black ladies, whether her, my 20-tear-old son’s mother’s Aunt Georgia who worked for UNESCO, or her mom, or a political candidate back in VA….that’s some kind of rule. All older black ladies call me Edward. That’s just how it is.
Mary Esther Wells was born near Detroit’s Wayne State University on May 13, 1943 to a domestic mother and an absentee father. One of three children, she caught spinal meningitis at the age of two and struggled with partial blindness, deafness in one ear and near paralysis. During her early years, Wells’ family grew up in a poor residential Detroit district. By age 12, Wells was helping her mother with housecleaning work. She described the ordeal years later:
“Daywork they called it and it was damn cold on hallway linoleum. Misery is Detroit linoleum in January–with a half-froze bucket of Spic-and-Span.”[4]
-Mary Wells
Mary shouldn’t have had to be playing small shows in small towns. But Berry Gordy ripped her for all he could get. Along with a bunch of other people. It’s why I hate that fucker.
Mary died of throat cancer in 1992, divorced, broke, and alone. They say when she died, no one was with her but Sam Moore.
Miz Mary, it’s all for you today, mama. I’ll never forget you.
Let’s have a picnic, go to the park…….
Ah, to be young again.
Or not….jeeezus!
I was never that hard, but I worked for people who were……never mind that.
Let’s get back to the essentials.
Yeah, this is what’s up, ese.
Gotta keep the population up…..
…know what I’m sayin’?
Whatever you do…seize the moment.Every moment counts.
Every. Moment. Counts.
“I’m here today to urge you to keep the faith. I can’t cheer you on with all my voice, but I can encourage, and I pray to motivate you with all my heart and soul and whispers.”
-Mary Wells
We out; peace.
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