White Folk Date Thursday, April 18, 2024 - 12:22 PM PST Topic Music Well, I reckon it must be time for another of these here stories. On my way home from workin again, there was more folks playin music, and it got me to thinking again - just like last time... Here's the story. I guess I gotta start at the beginnin. My folks was into folk music. Don't gimme your pity or nothin - they was hip in their day. I'm talkin bout the folk music that Bob Dylan and all them Beatnicks was into way back when. I druther say they was folkies than them shoo-wap shoo-wap rock 'n rollers. Anyways, just like all us 80's lovin geezers, they held onto their music to this day. But not like us, and cuz it was folk music - and folk music is a bit more friendly than that there modern 'Go listen to a DJ' music, they sang their music to their younguns. That's right, I was raised on that there mountain music till I was old enuf to know better, and we didn even have no radio. So as I's drivin home from workin. I's tired. Dog dead tired. I was ridin by town and I heard a song I ain't heard since I was knee high. A song my momma used to sing to me, name of Julie Ann. So I tied up and went over to have a listen. The song my momma sang was so sad, when I was 7 I wouldn't let her sing it. I'd fall down cryin. Yep, tears and hollerin and all, cryin like a 7 year old. I figger that's why I ain't heard it in so long, cuz she didn't take to pickin me up and calmin me. So as I's sittin down to have a listen, I hear the words they's singin. It ain't the same. The banjos sound the same, and the gittars sound the same, hell even the voices sounds the same. But they ain't tellin the same story. They's tellin a happy story bout The Lord. I'm hearin the saddest song I ever heard, bout a man who kilt the only girl he ever love by mistake when he's out a huntin - and they's singin bout The Lord. Now if that ain't Blasphemin, I dunno what is. I's about to up and leave, but they started singin the next song. It was a story bout a womans longin for the man who made her moonshine. I sat right back down and listened. Wooeee, nothin like good ol' American Values. I figger'd these folks might be all right. I might otta tell ya bout these ladies. They wasn't none of these backwoods toothless hags y'all might think of when you think of down home music. These was some high class ladies. One of them was so pretty, I reckon her man had to keep a shotgun handy to keep folks from sneekin round her door late at nite. Another thing I noticed right off was that they was real clean. Real real clean. You know what I's talkin bout. I mean they was clean. So I leaned back and listened like I aways do, and my mind got to thinkin like it aways do, and I got to listenin to what the music was really sayin. Now they's all singin bout all the good stuff. Drinkin, gamblin, moonshine and mountains. Oh, and moonshine. But there was somethin missin, and I set off to figger out what it was. Now for those of you who didn't grow up on folk music, you might be confusin it with country. I did that too when I was a youngn. But it ain't cuntry. Cuntry's all bout yer truck, and yer woman you wanna leave but she left you, and yer cryin in yer beer like a yella coward anyhow. No Folk music's about home. It's bout killin. It's bout moonshine. Moonshine's like to beer like Mr. T's like to Boy George. An that's how Folk's like to cuntry an western. Yep, an don't forget the killin and dyin. Cuntry folks don't die like folk and blues folks, and western folks don't neither, but I's wishin dolly parton would hurry it up. Anyhow, these purty ladies was singin bout moonshine and home and gamblin and all them good ol' american values, but I don't recall no dyin. They sang a lot about The Lord, but it just ain't right without the killin and dyin. So I set to thinkin bout what the songs was sayin to me, and they spoke. They said "Boy..." Yep they said it just like that. "Boy," they said, "You ain't white." I set to thinkin bout that apiece, and I thunk how songs that growed me up could cast me off now, just like that. I's bein cast off like I didn't belong there listenin to the songs, and the songs wasn't mine. Then I thought how these folks, these clean ladies who sang so nice and purty was shore nuff white. I always thought my folks was purty white, but back home in Hawaii, where all the folks around is brown - that ain't sayin a lot. So maybe since these ladies was so much more whiter than my folks, and way cleaner, that's why the songs was missin somethin. That magic somethin that's long gone when you think more bout The Lord than bout dyin. The songs spoke to me again. This time, they said three more words. "Boy," they said. "Thank The Lord You ain't white". And I got up and headed home thinkin My Folks are Goth as Fuck, and White Folk gots lots to learn. The Original article is Here... 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