The Blues, of course, has its roots way back to the slave days, with the hollering songs of those poor folk, working away in the fields, back-breaking work in the sun. Our first presidents, though they professed equality and individual rights, still had their slaves working their farms for them for quite awhile. Many years passed before that would change.
Blues songs speak of the misery, the suffering, but in acknowledging it, there is joy! Sounds odd, but in the acknowledgment, one's spirits are lifted. There is a commonality. After all, we all suffer, whether it's by the hand of another, "He done me wrong", or "She had the nerve to put me out!"; or it may be self-induced, "I put her in the ground with my 44", or "Hellhound on my Trail".
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Martha, of course, was more reserve, as were most women of the day, but George was quite a party-giver and goer. He loved to dance, and he played a mean fiddle! Just look at the painting above by Jean Leon Gerome Ferris shows a much more lively George. I like it!
We must not forget that these people actually lived and breathed, enjoyed parties, agonized over what to wear to a particular gathering, hoped for a good time. Some of the formal portraiture style does not allow our imagination to run and imagine their acutal existence. That's why I love some of the historical movie dramas, period pictures that tell their stories. Catch one soon: Jefferson in Paris, Barry Lyndon, the docu-drama John Adams, Liberty! (the mini-series), The Crossing. You won't be disappointed.
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