A Night at The Westerner in President-Elect Trump's America

There are a few things I know for sure, and one is when a man who looks like a straight, white redneck in blue jeans, a plaid shirt, and a camo baseball cap gets on stage at a bar called The Westerner to do karaoke, and he sings "Don't Cry Out Loud," you can be pretty sure he's not what you first thought him to be.
After, you will turn to your friend and say, "He's a closeted gay man," or something to that effect.
Later, when two older gentlemen, one in a giant black cowboy hat with a white mustache and beard, the other in a baseball hat, going by the names "Jack Daniels and Bud Light," get up to sing a version of "Beer For My Horses," you will begin to worry. The song, written by Toby Keith and Scotty Emerick, and originally recorded by Keith and Willie Nelson seems to be a benign country song in the tradition of many such country songs. Some of the lyrics, however, began to grab your attention and cause an uneasy knot to form in your stomach.

Grandpappy told my pappy

Back in my day, son

A man had to answer

For the wicked thing he done

Take all the rope in Texas

Find a tall oak tree

Round up all of them bad boys

And hang 'em high in the street

For all the people to see

Are you alone in being reminded of, say, a lynching? You look around and most of the mostly white people in this bar are singing along and don't seem to be aware of the words that are actually coming out of their very own mouths.

We got too many gangsters
Doing dirty deeds
Too much corruption
And crime in the streets
It's time the long arm of the law
Put a few more in the ground

 Is it the word "gangster" (code for African-American?) or is it the idea of vigilantism that now makes you worry, not only about yourself, but about lots of other people, some of them in this very room?

The cute young man in the plaid shirt has signed up for another song. He has a good voice. The song turns out to be "Sweet Transvestite" from Rocky Horror. Uh-oh. He gives a strong performance with some, but not too much, flair. You look uncomfortably around the room for any men who may be looking violent/disturbed. You say to your friend, "okay, maybe NOT in the closet."

A very talented friend has already signed up to sing a song by the Dixie Chicks. She reminds you of the very public battle between Toby Keith and the Dixie Chicks resulting in the F.U.T.K. t-shirt. Too late now. On she goes. Luckily, she sings like an angel and thereby, through the magic of music?, wins over Jack and his friend Bud. When she comes down from the stage, Jack gives her a high five. He must of forgotten that TK hated the DCs. Good!

Before you leave, you tell the young gay man that he has a good voice and that you liked both his songs. He hugs you. He is gathering his things, and you hope he is leaving, but you see him and his friends heading to the dance floor. 

It occurs to you that he is brave, in Post-Trump America, to dress like a redneck and sing like a fabulous gay man. You complimented him because you wanted him to know you are on his side, you wanted to encourage him, but now it occurs to you that he saw right through you. That he recognized immediately that you were the one who needed a hug, not him, because he has the knowledge and security of being 100% who he is. 

Even at the Westerner in President-elect Trump's America.

Proud to Be An American

Now, before you go singing that song, which is basically the musical equivalent of the phrase "Freedom isn't Free" and a bumper sticker that reads "Ask me how I feel about America!" and also something slightly more red-necky, let me just say that what made me feel proud this week has nothing to do with traditional patriotism.
Sometimes I have serious qualms about this project we call America, not because of our politics which are, let's face it, in a state of near patheticism, but culturally. I think we are best known for things like "American Idol" and "Jersey Shore" and Taylor Swift. Where is the art, my people, wherefore the Big Ideas?
Well, this week I was made proud on two counts by the same work of art; proud as a mother, and proud as a member of the culture that produced said work of art. And what, my friends, was this little gem?
It was this week's episode of "Glee." Yes, hokey songs and choreography, yes emotionally manipulative. But, the message was timely and oh so important: those of us who are not gay or bullied have to stand up for those who are. Yes, we need to love our (metaphorical and literal) brothers.
I am proud to be part of the culture that produced this art, knowing full well that there are still people out there who will speak out against it.
This episode brought me to tears. And it brought Son to tears. Sometimes I think he is too much boy, not feeling enough, not given to bouts of sympathy. But it made him cry, even if he didn't quite understand the implications of it. And that made me proud.

I'm Lost, I Said

By way of an apology to Signifying Nothing for incorrectly correcting him about the lyrics to "America," I will post here the (seemingly) correct lyrics for the song by Simon & Garfunkel. I got them off a website and I listened to the song, and they seem correct, so here it goes:

"Let us be lovers we'll marry our fortunes together."
"I've got some real estate here in my bag."
So we bought a pack of cigarettes and Mrs. Wagner pies,
And walked off to look for America.

"Kathy," I said as we boarded a Greyhound in Pittsburgh,
"Michigan seems like a dream to me now."
It took me four days to hitchhike from Saginaw,
I've gone to look for America.

Laughing on the bus,
Playing games with the faces.
She said the man in the gabardine suit was a spy.
I said "Be careful his bowtie is really a camera."

"Toss me a cigarette, I think there's one in my raincoat."
"We smoked the last one an hour ago."
So I looked at the scenery, she read her magazine,
And the moon rose over an open field.

"Kathy, I'm lost," I said, though I knew she was sleeping
I'm empty and aching and I don't know why
Counting the cars on the New Jersey Turnpike
They've all gone to look for America
All gone to look for America
All gone to look for America

And I agree with SN that it's a beautiful (or accurate?) piece of Americana. We are all, in some way, looking for America. Or some of us have found it, our little corner, and we love it. Especially upon return.