Black, White and Blood Red

“Daddy, why are they screaming?”

Olga and I were dumbfounded, one of those questions from the mouths of children which leave you grasping for an answer.

We were driving through the city, the four of us in the Nissan King Cab pickup truck, Olena and Nicholas snug in the back, Olga in the front passenger seat, me driving stick. The speakers were blasting out the tunes from the built-in cassette deck, the Bo Dean’s latest, Black and White, recommended by Don Berns at CFNY. It was the fourth album released by the band from Milwaukee in 1991, a change in direction from their earlier work. We loved it, played it repeatedly and played it loud which is probably what prompted four year old Olena to stick her head through the bucket seats, turn upwards and ask her now famous question. We laugh about the moment, recalling the story regularly.

With the advent of compact discs, we purchased a copy of Black and White and numerous other albums by the Bo Deans, all of which get airplay at home, in the car, and at the cottage. Just yesterday, I popped it into our CD player. The music, the lyrics and Olena’s question struck an all too familiar chord.

The US marked another July 4 long weekend with a rash of mass killings. Even the news agencies couldn’t agree on the number. “Fourth of July overshadowed by 16 mass shootings”; “At least 17 mass shootings mark Fourth of July holiday”; “22 mass shootings in 17 states over July 4 holiday weekend”. And this: “While there were 18 mass shootings over the weekend—from Friday to Tuesday—there were fewer shootings on July 4 than in the past few years” in part because the holiday landed on a Tuesday, midweek, which statistically is a day with the lowest numbers.

Bullets rang and he lost his life
It was a bloody day here in paradise.
Paradise
It ain’t hard to find
Lookin’ out your window at the world outside
Paradise
It ain’t far away
Here in my head it’s just another day
Here in paradise.

The United States shrugs its shoulders while the rest of the world shudders in disbelief. Tears will flow, justice will be demanded, voices will rise begging for the killing to stop. There will be another call for greater gun control. Stop the violence. Save our families. Save our children.

Don’t listen to the gun.
Tommy put away the knife
You’ve gotta give a damn ’bout another man’s life.
See it clear with your mind. Maybe make a change

Sing “People stand together”
‘Cause it’s a long hard day
And there’s strange weather laying up ahead.

A month later, after the funerals, after the headlines, after the politician speeches, it will all be forgotten and the cycle of insanity will continue.

So you ask, Olena, why are they screaming?
Because people continue to die;
Because owning a semi-automatic assault rifle capable of firing hundreds of rounds is every American citizen’s constitutional right;
Because no one can pry the guns from their cold, dead hands;
Because talking intelligently and rationale thinking is not working;
Because no one is listening.

Liberty, the right to die
When did we ever cross that line
That brought us here to this place
Delivered by the human race.

Black, White and Blood Red