That’s what Momma told me years ago when I asked what life was like growing up in the Virgin Islands during her childhood.
That conversation came up again recently when she visited me in California. “We didn’t have radio or t.v.” she explained. “We made our own music and told our own stories. We were there for each other.”
What a novel idea…
Making our own music, telling our stories, and being there for each other.
I’ll never forget what Momma told me…
And I’ve been thinking more and more about her comments since I heard about the recent death of acclaimed Hollywood actor, Phillip SeyMour Hoffman.
Hoffman’s death exposes the lie that American culture spins constantly: that fame has value and meaning; that money has value and meaning.
And we should strive for such things and if we fail to achieve them our lives will be nothing….
In subtle ways and not so subtle ways, America spins this lie over and over again. Yet it has never been true and will never be true.
For all of his fame and money, Phillip Seymour, died a horrible, miserable death. A heroin needle stuck in his arm. Fifty or more packets of heroin scattered throughout his apartment.
And this is the lifestyle of the rich and the famous that America says we should look up to?
I don’t think so..
Neither does Momma.
It’s time for us to get back to what’s really important!
James Weeks/ Producer Across The King’s River
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