An Encore Presentation
Since 2013, The Neighborhood has celebrated Veteran’s Day with a salute to the Homeless Veterans and those suffering with PTSD. In 2017, we saluted the Fallen and remembered the Forgotten American Soldiers, with a brief but personal tribute of our own.
In 2018, we present this encore presentation.
Enjoy the show. – KP
Long live the American Soldier.
Long live the fallen.
And long live the forgotten.
In memory of the Forgotten,
please stand or kneel in tribute to the Fallen.
The United States Army Band
w/ Military Taps
by Kendall F. Person
She awoke one morning, and somehow felt different.
The sickness overwhelmed her, yet she had no fever.
She wanted to walk, but her feet hurt her.
The sunshine was mild, still it did heat her.
It did not go away, so she saw her doctor.
When the news was delivered, it unnerved her.
She was carrying the child of a soldier,
and it so moved her. When she told him,
he saluted the flag, then kneeled before her.
It grew inside, and it changed her.
He smiled each time, it moved inside her.
Their love had changed, it became deeper.
The bloodline made, did forever connect them.
Her water broke, he was so nervous.
The time had come, it was predestined.
She pushed so hard, it was exhausting.
But she could feel him by her side, unbending.
She could not describe,
how her heart was beating,
when his son arrived,
it was the greatest feeling.
His father only once cried,
she now remembered seeing him.
He could not control the tide,
as the rain did tell her,
he cried now. and it calmed her.
Not in sorrow nor regret,
but in pride and honor.
Tho his spirit lived among the fallen,
his life would never dwell among the forgotten.
The Neighborhood thanks all soldiers for their service, AND Happy Veterans Day to our Veterans
Before the year ends… SMILE AGAIN
Happy Mother’s Day 2020 the remix
by Kendall F. Person
I have no memory of before three years old, however…
I have memories since the day I was born. I can remember being 6 and hearing my mother talk to my grandmother in everyday conversation. It seemed, that their dialogue was always about us, her six babies, as she would refer to her brood of growing, needy kids. I cannot recall a day in my life, that my mother was not doing something for us or seeding the future to help us or working two jobs to take care of us and preaching to us to stay in school, because she wanted us to have everything, that she never would. From the day we were born, we became her life and to this day, I do not see how she did it. But like so many other mothers, somehow she did. But it seems so unfair – her daily aches and pains – such a high price – we thought – she had paid, but the bounty overtakes us all.
When she was just 9 months old, she was a very sick little girl. I was living in Seattle then and one day my phone did ring, with my mother on the other end. “We need you to come get your Niece.” With no questions asked, I jumped into the car and drove the 11 hours to Sacramento and the next day, my brother’s daughter and I were on our way to the Emerald City, where I would be fortunate enough to raise her for the next 3 years.
I am so proud and happy for her, and the life she is building, but every now and then, I wish she were 9 months old again.
And while the emotion does not compare, yet somehow, I understand, the pain they must feel – the mothers of the still missing immigrant children – who wish they could turn back time too.
It is a topic, that most try to avoid. Immediately, we shun the thought when it enters our mind or heaven forbid, our own mothers bring it up. But we learn – one way or another – that our mothers are not immortal and that death is inevitable for even them. So when our mothers’ take that final journey, all we can hope is that they do so in peace and comfort, and that we had time to let them know, just how much we love and cherish them so.
…and much love to The Morris Clan
I would visit often, some family friends, whose patriarch (a great grandmother at the time of her death) was stricken with dementia, and whose mind was gone long before death knocked on her door. Each time I walked into her home, I would greet her with hello and bend down to give her a hug, but there would never be a response.
But one day, about six of us sat in the den talking and laughing and enjoying one another’s company, Ms. Lady (not her real name, but one of affection) jumped into the conversation and the room was rendered silent. After less than 20 seconds, she retreated back inside herself. But in that tiny fraction of time, it gave her family peace to know, that she was okay and had been with them, all along.
My Mother was diagnosed a year ago, almost to the day. Early dementia is what they called it, but more or less it seemed to stay away. But over the past few days, it has become apparent, that the piper is always paid, and only the self righteous would have the nerve to say aloud, “Why us?”
My Mother may have no memory one day, but the love she gave, along with mistakes made, assure we will always remember such a beautiful life.
Happy Cherish Our Mothers Day
The Neighborhood 2020
Remix & Republishing of Naked
From 2013 – 2015, The Neighborhood hosted a popular monthly segment subtitled: An Artists Collaboration. At times eclectic, with moments of artistic brilliance. But its underlying beauty, was how seamlessly it brought recording artists, writers and visual artists from all around the world to create something… together.
Lawyer, activist and artist Charitha Kulatunge of Colombo Sri Lanka made a contribution to the concept, by sharing his rich and colorful artwork in Naked. A government shutdown of social media – following the bombings and roundup of terrorists – has choked off international communication, meaning he has been unable (we hope) to check in as ‘Ok’ (Sri Lanka Attack Death Toll Rises to 290, CNN)
this is… The Neighborhood
from 1995, Brownstone
w/ I Can’t Tell You Why
by Kendall F. Person
When the long summer days abruptly end and the cold winter nights begin their stance, why do we ask why as the rain starts to fall, when it happens every year? When the alarm clock sounds each morn, signifying it is time to start the day all over, why do we sigh then ask why, when we already know the answer? When they lower the casket of a loved one into the ground, why do we scream why, when as a matter of nature and God’s law, we know that only time is eternal?
Why do the caged sing? Why do the freed sit in silence? Why do we give up, when there is no reason to stop trying? Why do we educate ourselves, then not share what we know? Why do we say I love you, when we are letting go? Why an eye for an eye when blind men cannot see? Why is truth not spoken louder? Why listen to decent? Why inhale the aroma of fresh air, then pretend we are not harming the atmosphere? Why are we fighting over a border wall, when the people on the other side, have been our allies for hundred of years?
Why do we march, then fight at the end? Why do we ask the same questions over and over again? Why do we sing praise & worship, yet never truly understand what it means? Why do we pretend, that we are perfect men and not try to be?
Maybe by asking why more often, then pondering before answering such questions to ourselves – of ourselves – then not only will the answers be not difficult to find, but perhaps we will locate happiness and meaning within the days of our lives.
Why not ask why?
this is… The Neighborhood
cover photo ‘Why’ by Ken Treloar
Thirteen years before Anthony Hopkins horrified audiences with his Academy Award winning performance in Silence of the Lambs, he made his mark in Magic. A lesser acclaimed motion picture, but nonetheless, a spectacular, haunting performance, that I would remember for years after.
A psychological thriller with a love story that could never be, knotted up in the insanity. Anthony Hopkins played the role of a fledgling magician named Corky, whose drowning career would take flight, after being gifted or cursed with a dummy, a doll, a block of wood with the name of Fats. Together – the ventriloquist act of Corky & Fats – knocked audiences dead. Already unhinged, but with fame came madness. And more than just fighting voices inside his head, he had a prop that brought the voices outside, and suffocated who he really was, all at the same time.
While Magic was mysterious and dark and the final explosive exchange between Corky and Fats, led many viewers to believe in the film’s false finale: or put way too much on the title Magic – that the dummy had come to life. But that is not what happened. Every vile utterance made through Fats, every violent reaction initiated by Fats, and every conversation between the two – no matter how cordial or violent – it was all Corky-the-man and not Fats-the-puppet. But the skillful direction and the stunning ventriloquism of Hopkins, I image even the camera crew was confused when filming concluded, about who controlled who.
Prior to becoming the running mate of Donald Trump, Mike Pence was actually a leader in his own right. Governor of Indiana and a radio talk show host prior to his successful foray into politics, But he rolled craps in Indiana, and may have vanished from the political stage, if not for being handpicked by the GOP establishment to eventually become the Vice President of the United States. Or if you listen closely to Mike, divine intervention is what guides his life.
In 2015, when then Governor Pence signed the Religious Freedom Restoration Act into law, it offered a clear view into what guides him into the decisions that he makes. An instant firestorm erupted from the Hoosier State LGBT community, who noted the bulls eye, that allowed discrimination to be open season upon them. But Governor Pence was unbending in his guided-by -God stance. But love him or hate him, he appeared to be a man of conviction in the word he followed. But in 2016, his future converged with a man who does not repent, giving reason to ponder if he is the same guy. Is he led by faith or does he dance, like a puppet?
Millions of voters believe that President Trump was handpicked by God, which makes sense in the absolutism of their loyalty, although no less alarming to the millions more who cannot possibly understand or make sense of the connection (however, faith based voters, but non-Trump supporters also may believe in God’s electoral intervention, but for very different reasons). It would also explain, the Vice President’s apparent reverence toward his boss. But actions like his spectacle of flying to an NFL game, only to stage a highly publicized walkout at the direction of the President, or the way he fades into the background, whenever the two men share the stage, or in his self-defense of his conversations with God (although he does not go as far to say that God talks back, like gossips have claimed) make it a challenge to know who he follows. Or has the gap closed to such a degree, and that loss of self, make it impossible for even him to know?
Ainsley Earhardt: Will the new Obamacare repeal and replace bill guarantee health insurance for people with preexisting conditions, as Obamcare?
Pence: [quoting Thomas Jefferson] Government that governs least governs best,
Messenger or follower? Magic or smoke & mirrors? Will the real Mike Pence say something. As Vice President of the United States, you owe it to the public to alleviate concern, that you are not, in fact, the most dangerous man in the room.
this is… The Neighborhood
References & in-depth reading
Dec 21, 1989 Bucharest Romania
When the moment of clarity arrived for former Romanian dictator Nicolae Ceausescu, it was not the sound of a crowd roaring his approval or chanting his name in reverence; Neither was it the thunderous cadence of his own voice, ricocheting throughout the cold winter air, that caught his greatness in mid waltz and froze his bravado stand. Nor was it the reverb of boos, boomeranging off the walls of the jammed-packed palatial square, from the people, that he misguidedly assumed his lies still consumed.
But in reality, it was the sound of irrelevance, that gave way to emptiness, like lies often do. In less than 90 seconds, a towering inferno of a ruler, was doused with the revolutionary might of truth. And while it would take four days before his execution, it was in that moment he fell. And it was in his falling, that the people rose above him, and took back the dance, that rightfully belonged to them.
United States December 2018
The corrosive nature of political power can be devastating, even to a stable nation, Once trusted representatives of the people, even the most committed public servants, can evolve into unscrupulous, self-centered faux leaders, whose loyal constituents may not recognize the imposter, until the damage has been done in a democracy-be-damned consolidation of ill-gotten power.
With our political attention remaining on a national level, the state legislators and lame duck governors of Wisconsin, North Carolina and Michigan, stage power grabs only witnessed in banana republics and dictatorial fed nations. The lack of physical violence may defy the definition of a coup d’etat, but the-in-plain-site brutalization of free and fair elections, and contributing to diminished faith, that every vote, even if counted, does not matter. make it a distinction without a difference, giving the appearance of a cracked foundation. In fact, their ugly sophistication in manipulating the 2018 midterm election results, by burying corruption, with lies and by fanning flames of fear – in an already toxic political culture – the GOP’s legislative drive, to strangle the authority of fairly elected Democratic governor of each state, while not a violent overthrow, it can be considered no longer, a peaceful transition of power.
But democracy offers paths to correct what has been wronged: (i) an impartial judicial system, whose importance cannot be overstated; (ii) a justice department, whose motto is no one is above the law; (iii) a steadfast, resistance, who believe the ballot is stronger than the bullet; and that (iv) cheaters bare the wrath of karma.
Ultimately, while the right to pursue happiness is bestowed upon everyone, by our under siege constitution, the dance belongs to the people.
this is… The Neighborhood