A cleansing, windy warm summer rain, washed down Chicago on the morning after Ronnie Gilbert died, at 88, out in California. The smiling power in her voice still resonating. A voice from the past? A folk singer? Right?
Hardly. She was so much more.
There were three men in the Weavers, one of them was Pete Seeger. But they only needed one woman. That was Ronnie Gilbert.
Seeing her name on my screen I could hear that voice like it was wired into my very soul like some musical sign pointing straight towards justice. Straight toward hope. And I wanted Ronnie Gilbert to start singing to some of our contemporary bullies and scoundrels. People like our own Illinois Governor Hedgefund so frothing at the mouth eager to prey on the vulnerable. I wanted to tell her about the new plan that’s being floated to dismantle tenure and thereby curtail what can be taught. Bought and paid for by oil barons of evil, snickering in their self-righteousness with a wink, a nod and shrug of the shoulders as they say, “All we’re doing is balancing the budget” and then breaking out a giant guffaw as they slap their knees in greedy joy.
But then I remembered Ronnie Gilbert’s voice. And thought about how our evil doers of today, those that work to take away the right to vote, the right to organize, the right to live healthy, how none of them were really all that different from the McCarthy’s and such. The evil Ronnie Gilbert fought with the power and smile in her voice.
I remembered Ronnie Gilbert’s voice. How she used it for Good.
How she powered the struggle.
And how that voice of power seemed to always have a smile flowing strong as she sang us along.
Listen to her sing today. You’ll feel that smiling power too. The music goes on.