The Society Page
by Cory Tracy
Gals and guns
“Well, he sure as hell didn’t do the Irish any favors!” Such was my father’s response when I told him I saw the new film about Winston Churchill, Darkest Hour. We don’t always see eye to eye, but Bernie Tracy is a masterpiece of sincerity.
Darkest Hour gives us a glimpse of Churchill at the dawn of the Second World War. The movie wasn’t terrible, but they took some liberties with history to make the experience more “cinematic.” At one point, Churchill is weighing whether to finally take a stand against Hitler‘s rising ambitions. He abandons his chauffeured car and hops on a commuter train to take the pulse of the people. That shit never happened, but it makes for a good scene. Churchill lived during the time when Britain had to transition from being a global conqueror to just another splotch on the map. Those wondering where this country is headed should take notes.
Though I proudly embrace the cliché of being an unbathed and crooked-toothed anarchist, I met a candidate for governor last month who impressed me. Doubly surprising: he’s ex-law enforcement, which is usually a no-no in my book. Rob Korobkin hosted a potluck meet-and-greet at his house for Democrat Mark Dion. Mark impressed me with his appreciation for the struggles of ordinary folks and the need to lift society from the bottom up. He’s the son of a Lewiston firefighter and walked the beat with the Portland Police Department for many years before being elected Cumberland County Sheriff. After that, he got a law degree from UMaine and a seat in the state Legislature. Mark said he spearheaded the idea of establishing community gardens in Portland, understanding that right behavior and right outlook are grounded in proper nutrition. I hope to see Mark’s name on November’s ballot.
On Tuesday the 13th I went to Portland House of Music to see The Fat Tuesdays. I lived in New Orleans during the year leading up to Katrina, so I appreciated the band’s ability to balance the archetypal forces of celebration and regret. Pete Dugas was on keys, Lex Jones sang lead and played guitar, Dan Boyden was on percussion, Adam Fredrick covered bass, Max Canton played guitar, the horn section included Jamie Colpoys, Emma Stanley and Lucas Desmond, Frank Hopkins did his notorious Dr. John impersonation and Kenya Hall provided the sass. The music had the audience hopping around the dance floor like crickets on a sizzling skillet!
I was back at the House of Music a few nights later for GALentine’s Day. Gina Alibrio, backed by the stellar Red Eye Flight Crew, led a chorus of seductively attired female singers — Suzanne Gerry, Janay Woodruff, Megan Guynes and Ashley Ellis — plus lots of special guests. The show was fiery, but outside the club snow was falling and, by closing time, a few inches had accumulated. I struggled my way to Monument Square, where I saw my friend Sam Mercer, who offered to push me the rest of the way home. I usually gracefully decline such assiatnce, but this storm was fogging up my glasses and fucking up my tires, so I gratefully accepted Sam’s kind offer.
February 14th was not only Ash Wednesday but also Valentine’s Day, of course. Despite being armed to the teeth with an arsenal of predictable flirtations, I am quite possibly the least amorous or affectionate person you will ever meet. For me, Valentine’s Day is just an excuse to eat chocolate and act extra goofy.
Valentine’s Day is also my late mother’s birthday, so every year my siblings and I gather for a little memorial dinner. This year we went to 33 Elmwood, the bowling alley/music venue/hipster hangout in Westbrook. My family is weird in that we all get along. The food was decent, but because I’m brain-damaged and garble-tongued, the waiter misheard me and brought me nachos with a hideous meat sauce. Thankfully I had some yummy soft pretzel sticks and blackberry cobbler to satisfy my hunger. 33 Elmwood is a good place to go to look at pretty girls, but if you’re a vegetarian, keep your guard up.
Now, excuse me while I deviate from my standard serving of refreshing immaturity. That same day, the nation was terrorized yet again by the Republicans’ perverse fetish for guns. Our “leaders” performed the necessary oblations to the NRA to keep fears primed and the cash flowing. In our society, the insecurity of the fringe weighs more than the security of the vast majority, and our laws reflect this fetishization of weaponry.
Like many Mainers, I knew how to handle a firearm before I could ride a bike, but shit, man, let’s grow up already and stop sacrificing our children on the altar of insecurity. Fight with your words, see with your eyes, and try to find truth with your life-sharpened mind! #PUTTHEGUNSAWAY!!!