after a decently long and fast bike to the post office and to meet A at a really good talk by rachel naomi remen, i found an emergency message from the folks at we interrupt this message. seems they’ve got a crossover problem somewhere between the MPOE and the EMSS (the customer side switching box) that needs to be fixed. so, ug, gotta head back there tomorrow on the early side. and just when my sweetie’s got the morning off. how wrong is that?
before i get too far into this, let me say the rachel naomi remen was awesome, as she talked to A. and a crowd of her fellow very-soon-to-be-actual-doctors about the importance and value of service as opposed to fixing people. and how that’s where meaning is found. i left being inspired by her stories, her positivity, her grace and incredible persistance. but i also left with the strong feeling that while service is of course vital and i’m glad she is such an articulate, profound force in the world advocating for that way of life and that style of practicing medicine, service doesn’t mean much without justice. the fundamental inequalities that are at the cornerstone of our society and that impact the delivery of care in such profound ways will not change in the fundamental ways necessary unless and until there occur revolutionary political and economic changes. yes, i said the “r” word. yes, i do mean upheaval, yes i mean full-tilt boogie in the streets of our cities and the town halls of our wayside hamlets. doctors, and soon-to-be-doctors who mean well, like lawyers and political players and social workers who mean well, cannot acheive the changes they want without grassroots organizers. o.k., so that was my little grassroots organizer rant. truth is, of course, that organizers and activists are so dead in the water without rad docs and lawyers and on and on. the multi-pronged approach, people. gotta hit it from all angles.
so, with A. out meeting with other futuredocs, and knowing i must spend the morning sussing out the subtle sounds and weird signals coming from specific hell (a.k.a. pacific bell), i took part of this evening to kick back with a baked potato, a wolaver’s (yes, the best brew available on planet) and watch the blues masters DVD, which, despite colin james’ hokey video overdub with Willie Dixon, was phenomenal. muddy watters and james cotton and otis spann and the crew just rocked so hard it hurt. they reveal so much depth and intensity and skill and understanding and love and hate and just plain spirit in these performances (in a studio in toronto in 1966), you just want to cry. got me thinking more about representation of race and class in the blues and how blues musicians have been historically exploited and all the vital stuff about the intersections of race and gender that angela davis talks about in blues legacies. time to revisit that, i never gave it my full attention when it came out. more on it and angela can be found at disinformation, nyt, and a harshly critical piece by johnathan gill for the boston review.
angela is still on the advisory board of PARC, and active with Critical Resistance, but i haven’t heard much from her of late. perhaps i’ll try to get a quip from her about the economy and prisons in the new piece for making contact i’m working on. watch this space for more on that, and go to the prison desk page there at radioproject.org for info on the previous shows i coordinated. whew. out. -e.