I have been somewhat depressed lately - just to provide anyone reading this blog posting with a bit of personal confession! As I have tried to figure out why - since I don't think depression is a very good state of mind for anyone - a line from Bob Dylan's song, "It Takes a Lot to Laugh, It Takes a Train to Cry," has kept coming to my mind.
Click that link, above, for the full lyrics. Here's the line I am talking about, in the first verse, and highlighted below:
Well, I ride on a mailtrain, baby
Can’t buy a thrill
Well, I’ve been up all night, baby
Leanin’ on the windowsill
Well, if I die
On top of the hill
And if I don’t make it
You know my baby will
I have a couple of children, and three grandchildren, and none of them, really, are "babies" anymore, but the sentiment Dylan expresses in this song, the way I am presenting the lyrics, here, is one that I think is pretty common, and it certainly speaks to my own condition, as the Quakers might say. I am pretty much reconciled to my personal departure from this wonderful world, having been practicing that "Memento Mori" advice that I dish out here in this blog. No regrets - and a lot of celebration when I think of what a wonderful life I have had! I am 100%, all-in for the "right kind of hope," as I just wrote about a couple of days ago.
Still, and isn't this true for just about everyone who does have children, I am wishing the best for my kids, and for my grandkids, and for all the "younger generation" that I have always felt will carry on, and maybe even get to the "top of the hill," as Dylan forecasts in his song.
I am starting to worry that might not be true. I am starting to worry, much as I try to avoid the thought, that I'm going to be around here to see the end of everything. Our current president's war in Iran, his fascination with the idea that he might like to use nuclear weapons, and his decision to stop every initiative underway that might help us stave off the impacts of global warming - that global warming that is proceding apace, and that is speedily heading for its multiple "tipping points" - are two big things that are undermining my confidence that "if I don't make it, you know my baby will."
Will our kids make it? If they don't, and it's depressing to think they might not, we are all looking at the last verse of that Dylan song, not the first verse - and that last verse turns out to be a lot less hopeful the first verse is:
Now the wintertime is coming
The windows are filled with frost
I went to tell everybody
But I could not get across
Well, I wanna be your lover, baby
I don’t wanna be your boss
Don’t say I never warned you
When your train gets lost
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