Talking Story with Arlo: happiness

Saturday, January 31, 2026

Get Together" by The Youngbloods -Talking Story with Arlo

Talking Story with Arlo

Come on people now....

By Arlo Agogo

The timeless call of "Get Together" by The Youngbloods still rings true today, just as it did back in the turbulent 1960s and early 1970s. Growing up during that era, the song felt like a much-needed balm amid the chaos.

The Vietnam War raged on, dividing families, generations, and the nation itself. Protests filled the streets, with young people clashing against "The Establishment" in a storm of anti-war fervor, civil rights struggles, and widespread distrust.

Violence was everywhere—in the headlines, on TV, and sadly, in real life. Yet here came this gentle folk-rock anthem, urging peace, unity, and simple human kindness.

The lyrics capture it perfectly:

♫ Love is but a song we sing

Fear's the way we die
You can make the mountains ring
Or make the angels cry
Though the bird is on the wing
And you may not know why

Come on people now
Smile on your brother
Everybody get together

Try to love one another right now ♫

Released in 1967 (though it truly exploded in popularity with a 1969 reissue, hitting No. 5 on the charts), the song became a counterculture staple.

It wasn't aggressive protest music like some anthems of the time; it was hopeful, almost whisper-quiet in its plea for harmony. It reminded listeners that we are fleeting—"

♫ We are but a moment's sunlight

Fading in the grass"

and that love and fear both lie within our grasp:

If you hear the song I sing

You will understand (listen!)
You hold the key to love and fear
All in your trembling hand
Just one key unlocks them both
It's there at your command ♫

That message resonated deeply then, offering a vision of a better world beyond war and division.

Fast-forward to today, and the struggle feels eerily familiar.

The headlines still overflow with conflict—global tensions, political rifts, and endless cycles of outrage.

But the real battlefield often plays out online.

Social media and much of modern media thrive on conflict. Posts about betrayal, divorce, cheating scandals, or heated arguments rack up likes, shares, and views.

Anger spreads faster than joy; negativity draws crowds.

It's the digital equivalent of a sensational headline or a blockbuster "kill flick." Movie theaters? Dominated by action-packed violence, revenge tales, and dystopian nightmares—even many animated films lean into battles and peril.

Why seek out peaceful, uplifting stories when outrage algorithms reward the dramatic and divisive?I see this contrast starkly in storytelling spaces like Facebook groups or blogs.

Some creators build audiences on tales of broken relationships, family feuds, or righteous indignation.

The more raw the anger, the bigger the numbers. Meanwhile, quieter voices focus on joy, small romances, light adventures, and happy endings.

In my blogs, nobody gets killed. There's always a thread of tenderness, a dash of fun, interesting real-life moments, and nods to modern science making the world better.

Stories end with smiles, reunions, and hope. When I share the lyrics to "Get Together," it's not just nostalgia—it's a quiet declaration:

These writings are about a good life, a joyful one, full of interesting things that lift the spirit.My parents' marriage lasted 67 years. They complimented each other, helped one another through thick and thin, and built a home filled with steady love rather than drama.

That's the model I carry forward—the world needs more families, more joyful reunions, more reasons to populate it with kindness instead of conflict. We need content that celebrates connection, not catches people in betrayal.

The choice is ours as readers and consumers. We can keep scrolling through the endless feed of sadness and hate, feeding the algorithms that amplify it. Or we can seek out—and support—stories that echo the kindness of life.

Choose blogs where adventure is gentle, romance is sweet, and conclusions are joyous. Opt for media that reminds us life can be peaceful and easy, full of wonder rather than war.

The 1960s dreamed of growing up into a world better than the one inherited—one of peace and prosperity. That dream flickered amid the violence, but hints of it persist today. Some leaders and movements push toward reducing hate between nations, fostering understanding over division.

It's fragile, but possible.Ultimately, the song's refrain repeats for a reason:

♫ Come on people now
Smile on your brother
Everybody get together
Try to love one another right now ♫

Right now. Not tomorrow, not when the world "fixes" itself. Right now, in the stories we tell, the posts we share, the media we consume.

By choosing joyful reads over angry ones, uplifting videos over outrage bait, we vote with our attention.

We unlock that key in our trembling hand. In a world quick to highlight what's broken, let's celebrate what's beautiful. Life's too short—a moment's sunlight fading in the grass—to waste on manufactured conflict.

Let's get together, love one another, and build stories worth living in.

Groove is in the Heart - Arlo

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Saturday, April 5, 2025

Talking Story with Arlo - Legal Tender Blues -

Talking Story with Arlo

The Groove That Saved Me from the Legal Tender Blues

Picture this, cats and kittens: I’m 58, a gray-bearded beatnik with a heart full of stardust and a rent bill that won’t quit. Life?

It’s been a hamster wheel of legal tender lately—waking up to the gray dawn creeping through my window blinds, chugging coffee blacker than a Kerouac poem, and schlepping off to the gig.

Punch the clock, shuffle the papers, nod at the same tired faces. Then it’s back home, where the couch sags under my bones, and the TV hums a lullaby of reruns.

Morning light streams in, and boom—do it again. Amen. Say it again. Amen.

Just like Jackson Browne crooned in The Pretender, I’m caught between the longing for love and the struggle for the green stuff, the almighty dollar that keeps the landlord from kicking me to the curb.

It’s a grind, man. A soul-sucking loop where joy’s a rumor and the freeway’s shade is my only shade. I’d pack my lunch, clock in, clock out, and dream of some greater awakening—something to bust me out of this monochrome movie.

But the days just rolled by, heavy as a junkman’s fender, and I was starting to think the veterans dreaming at the traffic light had it better than me. At least they had dreams.

Then—they showed up. The Groovatrons from Funkadelia. Oh, daddy-o, these ain’t your average visitors. These are neutrino-sized funk fairies, zipping through the universe faster than a Coltrane solo, slipping into your soul like a secret chord.

They’re from a dimension where the air’s made of glitter and the rivers flow with pure, unadulterated groove. And one day, while I’m slumped over my desk, counting paperclips and cursing the clock, I feel it—a tingle, a shimmer, a cosmic kazoo buzzing in my chest.

The Groovatrons have landed, and they’re here to flip my script.

First thing they do? They nudge me. Not a shove, not a push, but a gentle, funky nudge that says, “Arlo, my man, this ain’t the whole gig. You’re not just a cog in the machine—you’re a supernova waiting to pop!”

And suddenly, I’m seeing the world through tie-dye goggles. The office? It’s not a prison—it’s a stage. My desk? A drum kit begging for a beat. My stapler? A maraca in disguise. The Groovatrons whisper, “Dance, daddy-o, dance!” and before I know it, I’m tapping my feet under the desk, swaying like a willow in a breeze nobody else can feel.

They teach me the Funkadelian Two-Step—a move so smooth it could charm a tax collector.

It’s all hips and heart, a wiggle that says, “I’m here, I’m alive, and I ain’t afraid to shake it!” I start grooving down the hall, past the water cooler where Debbie from accounting gives me the side-eye.

But the Groovatrons nudge me again—“Engage, man, connect!”—so I flash her a grin and say, “Hey, Deb, ever try dancing to the photocopier’s beat?” She blinks, then laughs, and suddenly we’re trading steps like it’s a jazz jam at midnight.

The office starts humming, not with fluorescent despair, but with a low-down, funky vibe.

Work’s still there, sure. The rent’s still due, the freeway’s still roaring outside my window. But the Groovatrons? They’ve rewired my soul. I wake up now, and instead of groaning, I’m humming Browne’s tune with a twist:

“When the morning light comes streaming in, I’ll get up and groove it again—Amen!”

I pack my lunch with a flourish—sandwiches cut into star shapes, a thermos of tea spiked with cinnamon dreams. At the gig, I’m not just shuffling papers—I’m spinning stories, cracking jokes, turning memos into haikus.

“Paper clips gleam bright / Stapler sings a steel song / Coffee fuels the soul.”

My coworkers catch the wave, and soon we’re a crew of merry pranksters, laughing through the grind.
The Groovatrons don’t stop there. They nudge me outward—into the streets, where the sirens sing and the church bells ring.

I start chatting up the junkman, who’s got a laugh like a bassline, and the kids waiting for the ice cream truck, who teach me their secret handshake. I’m dancing with strangers, twirling old ladies at the bus stop, high-fiving vets dreaming of the fight.

Life’s still a struggle for the legal tender—gotta pay the piper, right?—but it’s a dance now, not a dirge. The Groovatrons have me seeing every dollar as a ticket to the next groove, every workday as a chance to spread the funk.

Jackson Browne knew the score: we’re all pretenders, caught in the push-pull of love and loot. But with the Groovatrons riding shotgun in my soul, I’m pretending with a purpose. I rent my house in the freeway’s shade, but now it’s a palace of positivity—walls plastered with poems, floors vibrating with beats.

I’m not just surviving; I’m thriving, a beatnik supernova exploding with joy. The morning light streams in, and I don’t just get up—I leap up, ready to shimmy through the day, to turn the struggle into a strut.

So here’s the word from your ol’ pal Arlo: if life’s got you down, if the legal tender’s got you in a chokehold, listen close.

The Groovatrons are out there, neutrino-sized and funky-fresh, ready to nudge you into the light.

They’ll teach you to dance, to laugh, to turn the grind into a grand ol’ time. You’ve got to work, sure, got to make that bread—but with a little Funkadelian magic, you’ll do it with a skip and a hop, a grin and a groove.

Amen, cats. Say it again. Amen

Groove is in the Heart - Arlo