The local rock group down the street Is trying hard to learn their song Seranade the weekend squire, who just came out to mow his lawn Another pleasant valley sunday Charcoal burning everywhere Rows of houses that are all the same And no one seems to care See mrs. gray she’s proud today because her roses are in bloom Mr. green he’s so serene, he’s got a t.v. in every room Another pleasant valley sunday Here in status symbol land Mothers complain about how hard life is And the kids just don’t understand Creature comfort goals They only numb my soul and make it hard for me to see My thoughts all seem to stray, to places far away I need a change of scenery....a Carole King lyric
His father was an executive at the local paper mill who wanted John to follow in his footsteps and have a good life. During his senior year in high school, John's anxiety appeared to grow. "I don't know what to do with my life after high school," he said often and no one knew what to say. Everyone thought that he, of all people, had it made. He was driving a new Trans Am. He was dating one of the prettiest girls in school. He of all people seemed to have his future, a rather successful one, already mapped out for him.
That was the problem. It plaqued many of us in the late sixties and early seventies. Is that all there is? It seemed that life was hollow. The quest for simplicity in a plastic, rat race world. We certainly didn't want to echo the life of our parents.
John married his beautiful high school sweetheart and worked at the mill. He had money, a home, two kids. His parents dreams fulfilled, John still struggled with the emptiness of it all. He and his wife were seperated because she too, could not understand his angst.
His arms outstretched, reaching down its length, with a gag reflex making it a little more difficult, he managed to pull the trigger sending the bullet through the roof of his mouth and through the back of his skull.
It made no sense to those that knew him. He had the good life. A good job, a beautiful wife, a house and two kids.
What the fuck, John. What the fuck???
His father was an executive at the local paper mill who wanted John to follow in his footsteps and have a good life. During his senior year in high school, John's anxiety appeared to grow. "I don't know what to do with my life after high school," he said often and no one knew what to say. Everyone thought that he, of all people, had it made. He was driving a new Trans Am. He was dating one of the prettiest girls in school. He of all people seemed to have his future, a rather successful one, already mapped out for him.
That was the problem. It plaqued many of us in the late sixties and early seventies. Is that all there is? It seemed that life was hollow. The quest for simplicity in a plastic, rat race world. We certainly didn't want to echo the life of our parents.
John married his beautiful high school sweetheart and worked at the mill. He had money, a home, two kids. His parents dreams fulfilled, John still struggled with the emptiness of it all. He and his wife were seperated because she too, could not understand his angst.
His arms outstretched, reaching down its length, with a gag reflex making it a little more difficult, he managed to pull the trigger sending the bullet through the roof of his mouth and through the back of his skull.
It made no sense to those that knew him. He had the good life. A good job, a beautiful wife, a house and two kids.
What the fuck, John. What the fuck???
.JPG)
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