Category Archives: Personal

Fun Facts about ME!

End of life

While it is not yet certain, it appears the end of my mother’s life is near at hand. This (reprinted below) is all I can do to give you a piece of how I feel about her. Please note the Times left off my last line, which I may never be able to say again.

I was pleased to see my mother’s body on the cover of a recent Arkansas Times (Jan. 18), but was puzzled as to why Alice Walton’s head was atop it.

My mother, Golda Belle Watson Adams, wasn’t the Rosie the Riveter, but she was an airplane inspector at Tulsa’s McDonnell-Douglas airplane plant during World War II. My dear aunt, her late sister Mary, was the first woman to become a final inspector there. Her late brother Roosevelt lived through Bataan and spent 43 months in a Japanese POW camp. My late father Melton Eugene Adams flew in those planes as a flight engineer over the Hump and back.

Yes, my family is a cliche — mama built ’em and daddy flew ’em — and I’m proud of it.

Each of them worked like dogs and risked their lives for democracy, my father and my uncle more so, my mother and my aunt less so, but factory work is dangerous, too, then and now. After that war was over, they worked at other jobs, some paid (beautician, farm equipment salesman, nightclub worker, union steward) and some not (housewife), making their living from the sweat of their brows.

Alice Walton has never worked a day in her life.

She exerts effort, but it isn’t work. It’s play.

Alice Walton inherited billions of dollars that her late father’s corporation systematically gouged out of the American working man and woman. She plays investment banker with those dollars to make more dollars. That isn’t work. It’s play, cruel, brutal play with other people’s lives at other people’s expense for Alice Walton’s profit. We all have our family traditions.

I’m thrilled for Arkansas that Crystal Bridges is here. Arkansas is no less deserving of great art than any other place. After all, most great American museums are the legacy of robber barons, ruthless industrialists, and other swine. That our local swine has so gifted us with the fruits of others’ labors is simply in the American tradition.

So I wasn’t all that surprised when Tom Dillard, historian at the University in Arkansas of Walmart up in lost little Fayetteville said, “I don’t think the Waltons are robber barons, but if they are, they’re OUR ROBBER BARONS. After serving as a ‘colony’ for more than a century during which our natural resources and labor were shipped north, it is about time that Arkansas received some payback.”

Is that what it comes down to? My CEO can beat up your CEO? My warlord is stronger than your warlord? My robber baron can steal from your robber baron? I want nothing of it.

When Randy Newman wrote his brilliant song “Rednecks,” his incitement of Northerners comfortably bashing the South for the sins found in their own Northern backyards, his narrator said this of Lester Maddox: “Well, he may be a fool but he’s our fool / If they think they’re better than him they’re wrong.”

I’m under no illusions that I’m better than Lester Maddox. Randy Newman told me so, from on stage in Atlanta, when we in the audience thoughtlessly clapped at his mention of Maddox’s death. When it arrives, I won’t clap for Alice Walton’s death, either. I’ve learned that lesson.

But the living Alice Walton isn’t fit to kiss my living mother’s ass.

Johnnie Watson Adams

Little Rock

Post-Election Review

I’m not sure, but I think something or someone I voted for won! That doesn’t always happen. So it’s time to take stock:

Do song and story still have the power to connect and move people across time and space and culture? Why, yes, they do.

Does human solidarity still have the power to pull people together for the common good as they understand it, for kind and compassionate action as they see it called for in the world? Why, yes, it does.

Does the magnificence of the world we live in, both the physical world we all share and the interior world we each possess, and those shared world we create, still stir my heart and ear and eye? Why, yes, it does.

All things considered, I’m in pretty good shape. What about you?

The Favor of Spitting Directly Into My Face

No one does bitter like Van the Man.

Some compliments take time and discernment to understand and accept. One of those came my way recently and I just now got it.

For the last five years, I was heavily involved in the governance of an organization, and I had one thing I desperately wanted to pursue. I’d made a fairly detailed plan for doing it and kept getting told “No.” No discussion, no communication, just crickets till the final public “No”.

Now that I no longer have any influence in the organization, my plan is being put into action, sort of. The content of it is now either watered down or replaced with something lesser, but the structure is mostly the same.

At first, this hurt, and it still does some, but this weekend, I came to the realization there was a compliment in there. I wasn’t being simply ignored or blown off. People were waiting to override my values with theirs and follow my tactical plans for their purposes.

On the one hand, that’s not a very nice way to treat someone. On the other hand, it’s recognition (of a sort) of my hard intellectual labor.

What brought this home was a request that I go out and gather information about one of these project to other folks so they can make decisions about it. I’m sure that was meant well, but it felt like catching a load of spit in the face. Know your place, Johnnie.

This is the sort of unthinking disrespect that nice people show to people who, like me, aren’t–let’s face facts now–all that nice. It’s especially hard on me, because I’m trying to be good, which is a hell of a lot harder than nice and a hell of a lot better to boot.

And so I’m doing it. People, nice and otherwise, are shaped by their upbringing and their surroundings, and when you upset their environment, they react to it. Kind of human, just like me. That’s no excuse for me not to put my effort into a good cause.

And if I’m so damned good my own self, then it’s my job to try to communicate over the differences. If I’m the only one who sees them, then I have to make them more visible. If that upsets people, you can’t blame them for it. You have to learn to deal with them.

No one does transcendence and new beginnings like Van the Man.

“Hello world!” is the traditional greeting of my people

This is the fortieth anniversary of three pivotal events in my life: I took the SAT a year early, I bought my first mimeograph machine, and I lost my virginity in the basement of the Garfield County post office, on the carpeted floor of the room where the draft board met.

A big day! So this anniversary seems a propitious time to continue my long blog slog. I’ll get archives up when possible–Real Soon Now.