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17 August 2007

feel good Friday

I borrowed the idea for this post from Vanessa -- I love her blog, so check it out. It's not about yoga, but it's all about spirit. Thanks, girlfriend!

Many of you are too young to remember Sly and the Family Stone, but I loved Sly. The band was old school funk, and being brought up on the south side of Chicago, I loved that the band was "mixed." I also loved the blond wig on Sly's sister, so out there and in your face. Plus I had a thing for the sax player, but I had a thing for all sax players back in the day.

When I was in high school in the '70s, I had the "honor" of being at a Sly Stone concert in Grant Park, Chicago, when a riot broke out. My friends and I ditched school to go to this free concert -- peace, love, dove, baby. You might remember their album "There's a Riot Goin' On" -- uh, yeah, I was there.

Sly had the reputation of not showing up for concerts and when people started to figure out that he was a no-show, they got a little hot under the collar. Unfortunately, so did the infamous Chicago Police when they saw people ripping the stage apart and stealing instruments. Tear gas really doesn't smell good, y'all.

So enjoy the funk and be yourself.

peace.


3 comments:

Vanessa said...

How could I have missed this? That's for the shout out!

Anonymous said...

AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH

Funk. Nothin' like it, especially when coming from Sly and Co. Great find...

Anonymous said...

Though I'm loath to speak in defense of the Chicago Police Department after the way they treated me and hundreds of others during the Democratic National Convention in 1968, they weren't nearly as bad in the Grant Park riot following Sly's cancellation in 1970. They did uncork the tear gas, but only after significant provocation in the form of several of their cruisers being rolled over by hand, crushing the gumball machines and seriously hurting the feelings of Chicago's Finest.

Not that I felt any sympathy for them. I was fortunate to get away intact and hadn't done a damn thing myself other than apparently occupy the wrong space at the wrong time . . . .

Mark Coonan