Still not ready to make nice

The Dixie Chicks were in town over the weekend for a concert. It was sold out.

That was quite a change from a few years ago when the three Texas women were being excoriated, called every nasty name that some extremely nasty people could think of, as well as being threatened with rape, torture, and murder, all because they had committed the cardinal sin of speaking out against a president who was being revered by some as infallible. They famously told an audience where they were performing in London that they were embarrassed to be from the same state as that president. For that they were called traitors and much, much worse. They were boycotted by right-wingers, and radio stations that played country music refused to play their albums.

Well, the Chicks persevered, as chicks have long done. They kept doing what they do, and in 2006 they came out with a new album, Taking the Long Way, that featured a song that pretty much summed up their feelings about the whole experience, "Not Ready to Make Nice."

Not Ready to Make Nice lyrics

Forgive, sounds good
Forget, I'm not sure I could
They say time heals everything
But I'm still waiting

I'm through with doubt
There's nothing left for me to figure out
I've paid a price, and I'll keep paying

I'm not ready to make nice
I'm not ready to back down
I'm still mad as hell, and I don't have time
To go 'round and 'round and 'round
It's too late to make it right
I probably wouldn't if I could
'Cause I'm mad as hell
Can't bring myself to do what it is
You think I should

I know you said
Can't you just get over it?
It turned my whole world around
And I kinda like it

I made my bed, and I sleep like a baby
With no regrets, and I don't mind saying
It's a sad, sad story
When a mother will teach her daughter
That she ought to hate a perfect stranger
And how in the world
Can the words that I said
Send somebody so over the edge
That they'd write me a letter
Saying that I better
Shut up and sing
Or my life will be over?

Forgive, sounds good
Forget, I'm not sure I could
They say time heals everything

But I'm still waiting

The song won the Grammy award for "Song of the Year" which must have felt awfully good to the women who had suffered so much for exercising their freedom of speech.

The real irony of this whole story for me is that many of those same people who did their best to make life miserable for the Dixie Chicks for their "insult" to a president who was pursuing an unnecessary war against a country that had done nothing to harm us and sending thousands of young Americans, not to mention countless Iraqis, to their deaths in the process, are the same people who have now spent the last eight years showing utter contempt and disrespect to the president who inherited that mess and has tried to clean it up.

The Dixie Chicks' weekend concert set featured a lot of their "greatest hits," a little Dylan, a little of this and a little of that. It was all well received by the sold-out crowd, but probably no song was better received than this which has sort of become their anthem.

Yeah, still not ready to make nice, not ready to back down. Why should they? They were right.

Poetry Sunday: Don't Hesitate by Mary Oliver

How about we share another Mary Oliver poem? After all, you can never have too many of those. In this one, the poet seems to acknowledge that it is often hard to simply live in and enjoy the moment, perhaps because we are afraid it can't last. She urges us to give in to that moment and fully experience the joy. Although "much can never be redeemed, still, life has some possibility left." Don't Hesitate by Mary Oliver If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy, don’t hesitate. Give in to it. There are plenty of lives and whole towns destroyed or about to be. We are not wise, and not very often kind. And much can never be redeemed. Still, life has some possibility left. Perhaps this is its way of fighting back, that sometimes something happens better than all the riches or power in the world. It could be anything, but very likely you notice it in the instant when love begins. Anyway, that’s often the case. Anyway, whatever it is, don’t be afraid of its plenty. Joy is no...

Poetry Sunday: Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney

My mother was a farm wife and a prodigious canner. She canned fruit and vegetables from the garden, even occasionally meat. But the best thing that she canned, in my opinion, was blackberry jam. Even as I type those words my mouth waters! Of course, before she could make that jam, somebody had to pick the blackberries. And that somebody was quite often named Dorothy. I think Seamus Heaney might have spent some time among the briars plucking those delicious black fruits as well, so he would have known that "Once off the bush the fruit fermented, the sweet flesh would turn sour." They don't keep; you have to get that jam made in a hurry! Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney Late August, given heavy rain and sun For a full week, the blackberries would ripen. At first, just one, a glossy purple clot Among others, red, green, hard as a knot. You ate that first one and its flesh was sweet Like thickened wine: summer's blood was in it Leaving stains upon the tongue and lust ...

Poetry Sunday: Hymn for the Hurting by Amanda Gorman

You probably remember poet Amanda Gorman from her appearance at the inauguration of President Biden. She read her poem "The Hill We Climb" on that occasion. After the senseless slaughter in Uvalde this week, she was inspired to write another poem which was published in The New York Times. It seemed perfect for the occasion and so I stole it in order to feature it here, just in case you didn't get a chance to read it in the Times . Hymn for the Hurting by Amanda Gorman Everything hurts, Our hearts shadowed and strange, Minds made muddied and mute. We carry tragedy, terrifying and true. And yet none of it is new; We knew it as home, As horror, As heritage. Even our children Cannot be children, Cannot be. Everything hurts. It’s a hard time to be alive, And even harder to stay that way. We’re burdened to live out these days, While at the same time, blessed to outlive them. This alarm is how we know We must be altered — That we must differ or die, That we must triumph or try. ...

The Nature of Things

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