Everyone has an artist who is a giant of soul, an artist who’s work uniquely speaks to you.
Not a song or a single work, but an artist who can communicate a range of this human experience that just reaches you.
I have a few, such as artists Tracy Chapman, Curtis Mayfield, and Gil Scott-Heron, but even in this group, Bill Withers has his own perch.
In high school—my friend Josh bought his greatest hits LP. “Who is Bill Withers?” I asked. The man ringing me up gave me the the look of contempt older generations reserve for the very next that follow.
In the time to follow, and without effort, I would learn.
Today it’s, I Wish You Well.
I wish you flowers, sunshine and smiles
I wish you children that grow to make you proud
I wish you pretty things to wear
Sweet things to smell
I wish you well (I wish you well)
I wish you well (I wish you well)
I wish you well (I wish you well)
I wish you well (Well)
I wish you good friends that always treat you fair
Wanna wish you ribbons to tie around your hair
I wish you truckloads of cheer and many happy years
Tomorrow, it might be The Best You Can.
And the most you can ever do is the best you can
And the year after, I might find myself reflecting on the pains of war by remembering that I myself, can’t write left-handed.
Life asks us: “What is the meaning of life?”
We answer back in how we live, leaving echoes of our response.
Some of us, like Bill Withers, answer well.
Thank you, Bill.
I wish you well.
Mikal-El 