Amid our shut-in world of COVID-19 isolation, many of us are rediscovering old discarded items from the past and resurrecting them to help fill our overwhelming abundance of empty space. Movies, songs, books and stories previously banished to the darkest reaches of our forgotten memories are suddenly embraced and relished as old friends returning us to the sweet memories of our vibrant past. I experienced “a double shot” of this nostalgic injection this past week that, while seemingly disjointed, does offer some inspirational relevance in this chaotic and surreal world that we find ourselves thrust into.
The first is a song I just happened to hear on my car’s Sirius satellite radio early this week while making a rare foraging sojourn from home. Why Can’t We Be Friends? is a song by the funk band War from its 1975 studio album of the same name. The song has a simple sing along structure, with the phrase “Why can’t we be friends?” being sung four times after each two-line verse amounting to over forty times in under four minutes.
Why can’t we be friends (4x)
I seen ya I seen ya I seen ya ’round for a long long time
I really I really I really remember when you drank my wine
Why can’t we be friends (4x)
I seen ya I seen ya I seen ya walkin’ down in Chinatown
I called ya I called ya I called but you did not look around
I pay my I pay my I pay my money to the welfare line
I seen ya I seen ya I seen ya standing in it every time
Why can’t we be friends (4x)
The color the color the color of your skin don’t matter to me
As long as as long as long as we can live in harmony
I kinda I kinda I kinda like to be the president
And I could and I could and I could show you how your money’s spent
Why can’t we be friends (4x)
Sometimes I don’t speak right
But did I know what I was talking about
I know…
The song reached #6 on the Billboard Hot 100 in that summer of ‘75. It was played in outer space when NASA beamed it to the linking of Soviet cosmonauts and U.S. astronauts for the Apollo–Soyuz Test Project. Billboard ranked it as the No. 23 song of that year.
While I freely admit that the song would not be ranked as highly in my list of all time favorites, it stuck in my mind and I found myself recalling it both mentally and vocally throughout the week.
Then, a few days later, as I’m often apt to do, and aficionados of this author will understand, I temporarily put down the current novel I’m reading, James Michener’s Chesapeake, and picked up William Bennett’s Book of Virtues in search of a quick short story respite. Randomly opening it, my eyes were drawn to this quaint African folktale that challenges its reader to think about how much companionship in the world has been missed simply because people have been told or conditioned to the fact that they “can’t” be friends with each other. These two seemingly arbitrary events became the perfect match and bookends guiding both my week and this week’s Weekend Inspiration.
Once upon a time, the child of the Frog was hopping along in the bush when he spied someone new lying across the path before him. This someone was long and slender, and his skin seemed to shine with all the colors of the rainbow.
“Hello there,” called the Frog-child. “What are you doing lying here in the path?”
“Just warming myself in the sun,” answered the someone new, twisting and turning and uncoiling himself. “My name is Snake-child. What’s yours?”
“I’m Frog-child. Would you like to play with me?”
So Frog-child and Snake-child played together all morning long in the bush.
“Watch what I can do,” said the Frog-child, and he hopped high into the air. “I’ll teach you how, if you want,” he offered.
So he taught Snake-child how to hop, and together they hopped up and down the path through the bush.
“Now watch what I can do,” said Snake-child, and he crawled on his belly straight up the trunk of a tall tree. “I’ll teach you if you want.”
So he taught Frog-child how to slide on his belly and climb into trees.
After a while they both grew hungry and decided to go home for lunch, but they promised each other to meet again the next day.
“Thanks for teaching me to hop,” called Snake-child.
“Thanks for teaching me how to crawl up trees,” called Frog-child.
Then they each went home.
“Look what I can do , Mother!” cried Frog-child, crawling on his belly.
“Where did you learn how to do that?” his mother asked.
“Snake-child taught me,” he answered. “We played together in the bush this morning. He’s my new friend.”
“Don’t you know the Snake family is a bad family?” his mother asked. “They have poison in their teeth. Don’t ever let me catch you playing with one of them again. And don’t let me see you crawling on your belly, either. It isn’t proper.”
Meanwhile, Snake-child went home and hopped up and down for his mother to see.
“Who taught you to do that?” she asked.
“Frog-child did.” He said. “He’s my new friend.”
“What foolishness,” said his mother. “Don’t you know we’ve been on bad terms with the Frog family for longer than anyone can remember? The next time you play with Frog-child, catch him and eat him up. And stop that hopping. It isn’t our custom.”
So the next morning when Frog-child met Snake-child in the bush he kept his distance.
“I’m afraid I can’t go crawling with you today,” he called, hopping back a hop or two.
Snake-child eyed him quietly, remembering what his mother had told him. “if he gets too close, I’ll spring on him and eat him,” he thought. But then he remembered how much fun they had had together, and how nice Frog-child had been to teach him how to hop. So he sighed sadly to himself and slid away into the bush.
And from that day onward, Frog-child and Snake-child never played together again. But they often sat alone in the sun, each thinking about their one day of friendship.
Don’t walk in front of me…I may not follow
Don’t walk behind me…I may not lead
Walk beside me…just be my friend. –Albert Camus
Have an AWE-full Weekend!
William “Bill” Bacque