and we were sharp. as sharp as knives. and we were so gung ho to lay down our lives.

it’s difficult for people my age to truly remember vietnam as anything more than a piece of the country’s history. we remember the nightly news, the pictures, the horror; but i don’t think we truly grasp the turmoil and the polarization that this nation experienced.  one of the earliest memories i have is of this young girl running away from her accidentally-napalmed village. she was about my age; and the photo riveted me, making me wonder whether i would possess her strength and courage if the tables were turned.

in the early 1980s, newsweek published an incredibly eloquent story about charlie company in vietnam.  we had subscribed to newsweek as far back as i could remember; it was my number one news source  as a child because unlike the new york times (which i also read, as well as the asbury park press), it had the most vivid photos. (and i would read this at breakfast, which was probably not the smartest thing to do; i thought i was going to be sick many times, especially after photos of victims of ugandan despot idi amin and after the whole jim jones guyana episode.) when i read the article about charlie company, it brought it all home to me. yes, i knew my family had been against the vietnam war; i knew we hadn’t agreed with nixon or any of his policies.

but these were just a few of the guys who didn’t have the luxury of agreeing or disagreeing with policies and politics. for whatever reason, whether they were true believers or whether they simply could not escape the draft, here they were, in southeast asia, fixing to kill or die. my heart was wrenched reading about those who made it and those who did not. and for the first time, vietnam became more than just a piece of history to me.

i suspect billy joel had read the same article, too.

anyway, it’s memorial day. and while i have ranted about the non-vets who take the opportunity to invade our nation’s capitol with their noisy motorcycles and often rude selves, i will think more on the people who did what they felt they had to do — or were forced to do — by a government that insisted upon it. if there’s only one thing we’ve learned since vietnam, we have learned that we appreciate the soldiers, even if we completely disagree with their mission.

and so it is with iraq.

so godspeed those serving in iraq. i’m appalled at how many soldiers have been lost for an operation that was misguided in its efforts to uproot terrorism. i’m ashamed at my country for putting them in harm’s way for the wrong reason. their lives are all precious; and no one should ever have to die because his or her president is trying to even the score for his father. i hope instead that we redouble our efforts to become safer in a world where the original culprits still linger and flourish.

i truly hope our current vets all come home. safely.

and soon.

hang onto your guitar. apparently, it can take a long time to get it back.

glam rockers mott the hoople, a UK band on the verge of breaking up in the early ’70s, ended up getting a song written for them by a fan. the fan: david bowie. the song? suffragette city.

they. turned. it. down.

the superfan gave them another song. (i give bowie a lot of credit — this sort of generosity simply never happens, much less twice.) this time, they took it, and all the young dudes became a huge hit for the band.  i love that song, but i must admit a serious soft spot for all the way from memphis.

the first time i heard this mott the hoople hit, i was about to watch the movie that inspired the TV show alice.  for reasons i still cannot explain, i watched that show fairly religiously. i suspect there  must have been a show on before it that i really liked and due to my own personal inertia, i would watch alice, too. (certainly not because i liked that lady who constantly asked all to kiss her grits.) i figured the movie would also be just as amusing (and perhaps with the same annoying laff track.) in fact, it wasn’t exactly what i had expected, and i don’t think i made it halfway before turning off the TV.

but what DID make an impression on me was the song over the opening credits. all the way from memphis made the experience worthwhile; i couldn’t get it out of my head.  i didn’t realize for a long time that the song was about a touring rock star whose guitar ended up in a completely different town than the town the guitarist was next playing. i just thought the pounding piano sounded amazing, and the hook was terribly catchy. it took me years, though, to figure out who the hell was singing it. (i was only about 11 or so when i first heard it.)

guitarist mick ronson (who also ended up touring with bowie) sadly passed away very young from liver cancer; but frontman ian hunter still performs. the remaining band members are playing some sporadic concerts this year, even.

and i suspect no one will be  mislaying any instruments.

you don’t need to be an english major to love this song. but it sure helps.

i suppose it could also be said that you don’t have to be on acid to appreciate this gem. but i suspect it helps as well. (of course, i wouldn’t know about that sort of thing.)

this little gem, rejoyce, is grace slick at her most experimental and trippy, straight off of the epic after bathing at baxter’s. i often wonder whether fans freaked out or rejoiced when they caught a whiff of this beauteous work, as the  airplane definitely moved away from their commercial hits like somebody to love on this LP. in fact, this is the sort of overblown psychedelic music that gets pooh poohed in certain circles and doesn’t usually withstand the test of time.  (i mean, seriously –titles like  schizoforest love suite?)

but even though i have been known to poke fun at some works by artists who started to take themselves waaaay too seriously, i adore this song. quietly and stealthily, of course. after all, its the sort of piece that is an acquired taste.

in short, sid vicious would not have approved.

so you are welcome to listen to it. and laugh at me.

and wonder whether i require medication because i love this piece so.

worth watching, if only to see the multicolored pants on mickey.

Floatin down the river
With a saturated liver
And I wish I could forgive her
But I do believe she meant it
When she told me to forget it
And I bet she will regret it
When they find me in the morning wet and drowned
And the word gets round
Goin down
Goin down

please don’t tell me i am the only one out there who thrilled to see the monkees on TV when i was little. america’s prefab answer to the beatles, the monkees were put together to do what they were told, which pretty much meant acting zany and singing some amazing songs created by people like neil diamond (when he was remotely cool) and boyce and hart.  they had hits, they had fun, and then, they wanted to do what most other groups could do: sing and play and write their own stuff.

(cue ominous music here.)

don kirshner, who pretty much controlled them, would not have it. and after some warring, eventually, they were set free, to be bizarre (anyone out there ever see the movie head?) and then, ultimately to languish. they released stuff over the years and were brilliant (mike nesmith is famous for having come up with the idea for something known as music television.) that music television idea became huge (without nesmith, i believe) and ultimately, started airing old monkees’ episodes. they toured again, had a mild hit, and then sort of went on with their lives.

i was a very, very little girl when this stuff first aired — and yes, i watched it when it was airing when i was 3 or so. i think they were my first taste of psychedelia, with crazy, swirling colors and interesting references. goin down was the B side to monster hit daydream believer, and i just simply loved mickey’s scatting. sure, davy jones was definitely the cutest, but when i was 3, cutest didn’t mean a lot to me. what meant something to me? great music. even then. and mickey was the very best frontman, with an expressive voice and magnetic presence that even i, a preschooler, understood.

but i think i loved the show and the monkees most of all because i was always secretly hoping that the beatles would show up. while the monkees and the beatles have met over the years (and even worked together: peter shows up on george’s wonderwall), they never all ended up on the monkees show. i don’t know what i was waiting for, but i waited and waited and waited. to no avail.

oh, sad little me.

anyway, years later, i wonder whether there is a place in the rock and roll hall of fame for them. they brought rock to TV in a fresh way, and that alone is worth admission in my book. who cares whether they played their own instruments? i don’t. i think at least there should be some sort of special award, as the monkees broke ground by introducing rock — real rock, mid 60s style —  to the masses who never strayed from AM radio. right smack into their living rooms.

and from that point on, it was clear that the monkees were goin’ down a path less taken.