On an election night sure to plunge us into yet more political discord and disputation, tonight might be a good night to mention the record of the year, sez here, Lucinda Williams' Where the Spirit Meets the Bone.
The record begins with Williams' musical version of a poem by a man who happens to be her father, the simply great Miller Williams, here in its entirety:
Simple, no? Actually, no, not really -- but still, when Lucinda sings it, in her cracked voice in its warped frame, the seemingly simple poem deepens, broadens, stands repetition, becomes a song.
Have compassion for everyone you meet, even if they don't want it -- a reporter's creed. I hope.