Weights and Sorrows

I have awakened almost every morning to reports in the newspapers of new lies and vicious calumnies emanating from the administration. From the moment of Trump’s inauguration to the recent lies regarding this his handling of the coronavirus pandemic, this administration has polluted the air with false claims and libelous attacks on anyone who questions their actions or appears to be disloyal to the President and loyal to the country. I am reminded of Louis XIV claim, “The state, it is me!” We are afflicted with Trump I.  This past week they have opted to reject the recommendations of the Center for Disease Control for ways to open the cities and towns during the still active pandemic. The administration complains that the restrictions are too severe, violates religious freedoms and hurts the economy, a factor that Trump counted on in his attempt to have a second term so that he might continue to destroy democracy. But one religious institution packed with 100 congregants could early infect a thousand or more! The administration’s handling of the pandemic, inadequate at best and incompetent at worst, has endangered the health and well-being of every citizen. Even now, the corona virus continues to rampage through the country and now into the White House. May it find appropriate targets.
     Almost every morning I have awakened to reports of corruption and issues of ethical improprieties at the highest governmental level. The Justice Department has dropped the criminal case against Michael Flynn, who pled guilty of twice lying and once to the Vice-President. And both Trump and Pence have made it known that Flynn is welcome back into the administration. Almost every morning I have awakened to the noise emanating from the White House in language impermissible in third grade classrooms and indictable out here in society. Almost every morning I have awakened to the reports of nepotism, of incompetence, of greed and venality from the administration.

     The assault on our democracy and our notions of truth and decency wear me down. I’ve long thought about The Band’s song, “The Weight.” They sing “Take the load off Fanny, Take the load for free, Take the load off Fanny, and you put the load right on me!” Once I had discovered Fanny’s identity but I have since forgotten it and my source. I yet have hope that I will sooner or later remember and recover the information. Who Fanny might represent seems now significant  to me. The Band sings:
 

Catch a cannon ball now to take me down the line
My bag is sinkin' low and I do believe it's time
To get back to Miss Fanny, you know she's the only one
Who sent me here with her regards for everyone

Take a load off, Fanny
Take a load for free
Take a load off, Fanny
And you put the load right on me

Fanny burdened me in order to relieve herself of trouble. She is the only one who sent me out to speak for her; Fanny sent me out with her regards while she stayed safe at home. The weight of her demand was oppressive. Too oppressive.
     This song from the late 1960s speaks to an era categorized by war, lies and dishonest politicians. I think of Nixon and Kissinger and the Vietnam War. I think of the assassinations of Martin Luther King and Robert Kennedy, of the travesty in Chicago and the killings at Kent and Jackson State Universities. The weight fell on all of us even as the administration attempted to keep clean their hands. Now the administration sends us out into the streets for their own benefit despite the continuing threat of plague. The weight overwhelms us.
     And I want to contrast “The Weight” with another song, “Pack Up Your Sorrows,” by Richard Farina. This song appeared in 1965 on the album Celebrations for a Gray Day by Richard and Mimi Farina.  They sing:

But if somehow you could pack up your sorrows,
And give them all to me,
You would lose them, I know how to use them,
Give them all to me.

   The song represents a different sensibility than does “The Weight.” The sorrows of which Farina have value, and he seems concerned that through carelessness or witlessness these valuable sorrows might be lost. The narrator knows that the sorrows can be useful and so he invites them to be handed over because he knows the worth of such sorrows. They can be used. About suffering I am no longer certain there is value, but of sorrows, well, I have no doubt that these sorrows have their use but I know also that through rashness and weakness that value can be lost. Thoreau writes, “Never smother your sorrow, but tend and cherish it till it comes to have a separate and integral interest.” Perhaps by sorrow Farina might mean ‘concern’ that might lead to an activism. The value of sorrows? But it is the invitation o pack up these sorrows and offer then to a willing recipient which intrigues me.  It is not a weight imposed, and it is not a burden placed on another. Rather, in “Pack Up Your Sorrows” I hear an offer to relieve the other of his and her sorrows the uses of which may not yet be understood enough to be given carer. The world is not an easy place to be:

No use in cryin', talking to a stranger
Namin' the sorrows you've seen
Too many bad times, too many sad times
And nobody knows what you mean

But I think that if somehow those sorrows could be given away to someone who might use them . . . well, they might yield something: a song, a novel, a piece of art, a political movement and even a call for a return to democracy and social justice. The offer even for a little while can give some respite from the sorrows that arise from just living in this world.