Brownsville Girl Philosophy
Brownsville Girl Philosophy is a story of TJ Hawk's encounter with a mysterious man who had a curious philosophy. Henry Porter was happy to share his point of view, but Hawk remains unconvinced. Perhaps Henry is a misguided fool. Perhaps not. (At any rate, he even inspired a Hudson Roper poem, see bottom right sidebar.)
Brownsville Girl Philosophy
by TJ Hawk
I met a man who swore that he lived by a Brownsville Girl philosophy. It took him an hour to explain it to me. I'm still a little confused. Maybe he is naive. Maybe that philosophy will ruin his life, and my life. Yet, I think he is dead serious. I suppose he plans to live the rest of his life by that crazy Brownsville Girl point of view.
"Brownsville Girl? How is that a philosophy?" I asked with a frown.
"Not so fast," he blurted. "You need a little background. Brownsville Girl is a song by Bob Dylan."
"Oh, yeah," I began. "I'm a fan of Dylan. I love that song. Let me see if I can get the tune."
I suppose he didn't want to hear me sing, because he interrupted, "Do you remember the words?"
"Sure," I affirmed, nodding, singing, "Brownsville girl with your Brownsville curls, teeth like pearls shining like the moon above. Brownsville girl, show me all around the world; Brownsville girl, you're my honey love."
"Not bad," he said. "That’s the chorus. But do you know any other lines?"
When I started, I was surprised at how many I could remember. I recited to him:
Finally, I breathed, "I can't think of others."
"No problem, you already said it." He was grinning now. "What do you think? Which is my Brownsville Girl philosophy?"
I was losing my patience. "How do I know? Maybe, people who suffer together have stronger connections than people who are most content. I like that line."
"No, no. It's a good one. Perhaps it can be your Brownsville Girl philosophy, but it's not mine."
"Just tell me. What line are you talking about?" As I spoke, I was thinking, he's having too much fun wasting my time.
"Here it is," he bellowed, moving his hands like a drum roll. "People don't do what they believe in, they just do what's most convenient, and then they repent."
"That's it? That's your famous Brownville Girl philosophy?" I inquired with disappointment.
"Well, not exactly," he squealed. "But it comes from that line."
Next, the joker held up his right hand and swore: "By my BGP (Brownsville Girl philosophy), I resolve to NOT live that way. Rather than just do what's most convenient, I'll do what's right. Rather than follow the path of least resistance, I'll swim against the stream."
"Yeah, yeah, so what?" I chided.
Indignant, he croaked, "How can you say that? BGP is everything noble. It's the meaning of honesty. It's living my life by a code of honor. It's standing when everyone else is bowing before the king. It's not just citing convictions or principles, but it's living that way always, no matter what it might cost. It's a life well lived, so people can finally know the meaning of dignity."
Seeing his intensity rise, I chuckled, "Whoa, partner, I was just kidding."
I'll never forget what he did next. He raised both arms to the sky and proclaimed with joy: "Here is my Brownsville Girl philosophy: To live each moment with integrity."
"How's that working for you?" I asked, trying not to sound like Dr. Phil.
"I don't have any money; I had to quit my job."
"Why?" I asked.
"My bosses were cheating. They wanted me to participate in unethical and unfair practices. So I had to quit."
"That's too bad," I whispered.
"No, that's good," he said. "When I die, I may not leave wealth to my children, but they'll know that I died an honest man."
That didn't sound so good to me. I told him I was late for an appointment. The fool waved and smiled as I walked away. I never saw the man again. I don't know anything else about him. I don't even know his name, but I call him Henry Porter.
Now I think about Henry often. I wonder about his Brownsville Girl philosophy. It seems too costly for me. For this philosophy to make sense, for me to bet my life on it, I'd need to be convinced that there's an unseen world of ultimate justice. Otherwise, it makes more sense to keep doing what's most convenient.
Now that doesn't sound right either. It makes me sound weak. I'm confused. Why did I ever meet that Henry Porter?
Oh, friends, beware of Henry Porter! He'll make you wonder and fret all night about his crazy Brownsville Girl point of view.
