There’s Always Another Point of View
In the middle of a meadow of mud left over from one too many rainy Jazz Fest days, G and I stood listening to the Raconteurs pound their guitars and drums amongst twenty year olds raising their index and pinky fingers and shouting “Yeah” – but when we were walking away, I heard Jack White’s voice that is so marvelous singing, “There’s Always Another Point of View” and even though it was too hot to stand there, too smelly with the horse and mud slush under my feet, and plus, I had a beautiful woman waking from her nap to get home to, there was something about his voice, the lyrics, and the walking away from the last day of Jazz Fest that seemed to put me in mind of how transient yet fluid our life is – and our circumstances.