Utah Phillips: Happy B-Day

Thursday, May 15, 2008

Happy B-Day

Today is the day, Dad's 73 rd birthday, what a journey.
I think dad's recent letter said everything that need be said for now. His birthday does remind me of our first few road trips together.

Five or so years ago we reunited after many , many years apart. I would sit in the audience or off the wings of the stage and watch dad's shows. He had the usual stories of Big Bill, Mother Jones, little brother Brendan and Morraigan but then he would say " I traveled here with my oldest son Duncan, he's 43 and lives in Salt Lake" I used to say " what , that's all I get?" But the reality was that although we are father and son at that point in our lives we really didn't know that much about each other. Obviously a lot of water has passed under the trestle. It truly has been an amazing journey and I wouldn't change a thing.
Happy Birthday dad.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...: Hi Uncle Bruce,

happy birthday. We're delighted to know you have be blessed with 73 years of living and loving on this planet. What a precious human birth! Glad to hear you are plugging away. Have a great spring! The weather here in Washington reminds me of California! I was down visiting my mom, dad and siblings last weekend and it was in the mid 80's.
Take care and much love,
Glen (aka Philly G Dog), Anne and Chelsea (aka Corn Bread) Phillips; May 18, 2008 at 12:02 PM

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The Two Bums

This is a poem from George Milburn's book, The Hobo's Hornbook. You can also find it in a lot of old I. W. W. pamphlets and literature. It sums up a great deal of what I feel. It talks about the bum on the rod and the burn on the plush, which is just a simple way of saying that the kind of system we live in now demands that there be a poor people, demands that there be people out of work so that there will always be people willing to work for any wage.
Sure, a lot of railroad burns are parasites, but, like the poem says, they're just fleas who get an occasional bite, and you look at what those parasites at the top are chewing off. I know that there's a lot of talk these days about the welfare Cadillac; middle class people talking about those welfare gobblers down on the bottom who are afraid to do an honest day's work, and they're all driving big Cadillacs. And you hear over and over again, "Nobody ought to get something for nothing. " I've got to agree. You've got to work to eat.
I look at a factory. I see that everybody associated with that factory puts something in and they take something out. The workers put in their sweat and their skill, and they take out wages. The salesmen put in their skill and ability, and they take out commissions. The managers and foremen and people in the offices put in theirs, and take out salaries. But there's one group of people who take out more than they put in, and that more is called profit. I can't think of any other way to define it. That's a bunch of people who are getting something they didn't work for, and it's a whole lot.
If we're really concerned about people getting just what they earn, if we're really concerned about people not getting something that they didn't put in time and sweat for, let's start with the major offenders, and get rid of them. Then we'll gradually work our way down to the petty chiselers. It just makes sense.

The bum on the rod is hunted down
As the enemy of mankind;
The other is driven around to his club
And feted, wined and dined.

And they who curse the bum on the rods
As the essence of all that is bad
Will greet the other with a winning smile
And extend him the hand so glad.

The bum on the rods is a social flea
Who gets an occasional bite;
The bum on the plush is a social leech,
Blood-sucking day and night.

The bum on the rods is a load so light
That his weight we scarcely feel,
But it takes the labor of dozens of men
To furnish the other a meal.

As long as you sanction the bum on the plush,
The other will always be there,
But rid yourself of the bum on the plush
And the other will disappear.

Then make an intelligent, organized kick,
Get rid of the weights that crush;
Don't worry about the bum on the rods,
Get rid of the bum on the plush!

Internet Archive

I have started to develop an internet archive on my web page. It will be a collection of pictures, concert flyers and posters, concert audio and video, in short everything that I have collected during the last few years of traveling with dad. My hope is that it may one day become a central place for the world wide community to have access to an ever growing archive of Utah Phillips. I would like to encourage folks to add to the archive as well. You can either send things via e-mail ( friendsofutah@yahoo.com) or to my home address. I look forward to hearing from you.
Thank You
Duncan Phillips
1392 e. 5935 s.
SLC, UT. 84121