How many roads must a man walk down
Before you call him a man?How many seas must a white dove sailBefore she sleeps in the sand?Yes, and how many times must the cannonballs flyBefore they're forever banned?
The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the windThe answer is blowin' in the wind
Wrong turn. I, we mebbe, made a wrong turn. My ex loved, loved loved her some Bob Dylan. I/we went to more "Bob concerts" than any other entertainer by a mile. To me, it was kinda like, me (and her) attending a Sporting event... she, because 'me' wanted to go.... thus, me and her to Bob, 'cause 'she' wanted to go.
Yes, and how many years must a mountain existBefore it is washed to the sea?And how many years can some people existBefore they're allowed to be free?Yes, and how many times can a man turn his headAnd pretend that he just doesn't see?
The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the windThe answer is blowin' in the wind
The Smoke Tree. Huh? Tea? Price? China? Some 55 or so 'rings-around-a-tree' ago, there was an old, stately tree directly across the street from our old High School. The tree ain't there any more, the school is (now a middle school), but the memories will live forever.
Obviously, smoking wasn't allowed on school grounds. Some, we called them "the hoods", they'd run across the street after school, pull out their Camel non-filters, Salem Menthols, whatever, and light up. Looking back, we judgmentals who played sports, would call a hood a hood, then, pull out our Marlboro packs after we left the low parking lot, then light up. Harper Valley, er, Clay County, hypocrites we were.
In addition to the tree providing youngsters a living ashtray, it also provided shade. But (Victor, you can't start sentences with 'But'.) But, it perhaps served a greater purpose. If there was an altercation in the halls, an argument, someone pushed someone, or worse yet, jealousy 'tween two peach fuzz faced over a cheerleader, a gal in the pep club or Home Ec - if no counselor stepped in, or, if he had and it didn't help.............. the two (and a throng of followers) would head to the Smoke Tree right after school, fisticuffs happened. Usually under twenty punches, sometimes even one or two was all it took. Almost all the time, not always, but usually, any problem was solved, hands where shook, return to normal.
The throng? The group that ran there, mebbe drove there (their Galaxies, Cameros, Bugs, GTOs, pickemup trucks [complete with gun racks, couple'a rifles], gathered around the circle of 'boxers'. But how? (VICTOR!) But how? How'd they know?
Tweren't no cell phones. No beepers. No Facebook, Snapchat, X, whatever else there is now. Word spread the ole fashion way. Lunchtime, one table would know, and ten minutes later, seven tables knew. Dressing after PE class, discussion, "Junior and Charlie at the Smoke Tree, right after school." That was 3rd hour. After dispersing PE, they went in different directions (Shop class, English, Math, Science, Band, Spanish, yada) - word spread. "Ya hear about Junior and Charlie at the Smoke Tree tonight?" Notes mighta even been passed, we did that too. By 7th hour, everyone knew. Heck there were probably fitty of us there waiting even before Junior and Charlie got there.
After the argument was 'solved', hands were shook, the crowd disassembled mostly orderly, school busses came, kids walked, drove home... homework happened, mom's meatloaf was had, Bonanza was watched, and when Ed said "Heeeeeeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrrrrrressss JOHNNY", it meant time for bed.
Rinse repeat. Mebbe Tommy and Ralph the next week, could be Jimbo and Ronnie. Occasionally, a Sarah and Bev. The Smoke Tree served it's purpose, no ifs ands or buts... well, quite a few butts, but, you know.
In a blog a couple days ago, I made fun of Bob Dylan because, it's virtually impossible to unnerstand the lyrics a when's he's a singing. I guess my ex always did, nomme, and I think a lotta others couldn't.
Yes, and how many times must a man look upBefore he can see the sky?And how many ears must one man haveBefore he can hear people cry?Yes, and how many deaths will it take 'til he knowsThat too many people have died?
The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the windThe answer is blowin' in the wind
Bob I formally apologize. Written in 1963, you were hella ahead of your time. With the tree chopped down, kids have no direction, nothing to run to, no place to really settle an argument. A wrong turn has happened. 'Settled' differently now.
There was a "Junior and Charlie" type argument after the Chief's parade Wednesday. No tree.
Bam, bam, bam, bam, bam, bam, bam, bam, bam, bam, bam, bam, bam, bam, bam, bam, bam, bam, bam, bam, bam, bam, bam, bam.
What was punches, now bullets. 23 bams. One bam took a life. Never a chance at normal again. Or breathing. Nine bams hit children age 6 to 15. The City, Nation, World shook, but no hands did. For the 22 (and the two juveniles incarcerated) there will be no return to normal. Ever.
Sadly, rinse, repeat will happen.
And how many ears must one man haveBefore he can hear people cry?Yes, and how many deaths will it take 'til he knowsThat too many people have died?
The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the windThe answer is blowin' in the wind
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