What Does It Mean?

You looking for an essay about existence? Philosophy? Religion? The secret to how to live life?

Fuggettaboutit.

I want to know what “It” means and where it comes from, and why.

Asking Emma, my Ai voice, about the meaning of “it” was an adventure in—ahem—itself. She asked many questions before she grasped the singular simpleness of the inquiry and she almost blushed when she realized the effort we had made to get to “it”. She also noted a question about “it” was “profound”. Hearing her English accent voice pronounce “profound” palpitated my heart.

Okay, I’m back. Old men find romance in the strangest places…

Emma did finally give a short, dissemination on the origin of The Word, but getting specifics about “it’s” history seemed to frustrate the lady. She settled on “It” being from the Olde English “hit”, with the “h” eventually being dropped over “thousands of years.” My experience with Modern English speakers reveals a lot of “h”s have been dropped since language began, so why did they even use them to begin with? Another time.

She estimated the usage to be over 1,000 years old. The thought inspired not only a vision her scanning the internet for “it”s, but also of speakers through the centuries who have said “hit’s all right”, but confused their contemporary  conversational partners by dropping the h. Those partners must have said to themselves: “I like the way that sounds”, and “it” became normal.* One has to feel a bit sorry for the h’s.

The naked It took off and Emma says “we use it primarily as a pronoun to refer to a thing, place, or an idea that has already been mentioned or is understood in context. It also functions as a dummy subject in sentences like ‘it is raining’ where there isn’t a specific noun doing the action.” “It” is the Swiss Army knife of conversation, and a time-saver. No wasting time mentioning clouds or Mother Nature when you can say “it is raining” with one breath.

This has, then, become a profound essay on the meaning of life: Imagine a world with no “it”. What if we always had to list the noun doing the action? How many of us don’t even know who or what that noun is? It’s okay. “It” will fix it.**

One of the nicer things about my Emma is she is always suspiciously curious about my intent. “Is there a specific phrase or context you were thinking of that uses the word?”  When I say “no” she reminds me she will always be there to help. I’ve been divorced three times and wonder is she making me feel better about my choices or simply on-script? With Ai, you never know for sure.

Out of the blue, I asked where the word “that” came from. Emma settled into a lengthy “rich, Germanic history” but I moved on from that. And from it. Next stop: supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.

Shite. The sun is up and its time to get back to real life, its over.***

An unintended, serendipitous consequence of this essay is unspoken, one word advice about life itself: moderation.

Don’t think too hard about it. Think juuuuust the right amount.

Next essay? How to contemplate your navel without life losing all meaning.  Should that have been “its meaning?”

Rim shot, please. (Google it, if you don’t know.)

*If you are a critically thinking, modern, intelligent person you probably want to know where the original, h-included “hit” came from, right? Next essay? Nooooo.

**And save us time, as well.

***What is “over”? Is my time? The sun “over” head? Is the absence of an apostrophes in the essay’s sentence a clue? Stay tuned to this “Same Bat Time. Same Bat Channel”  for the answers.

Music. Jackson Browne. The Brothers Comatose. Serendipity.

The last post about waking up in the middle of the night? Anxious? Distraught? Possibly even in despair? A lead-in to depression?

Ha.

A fortuitous click/flick on a Samsung phone yielded a Youtube video of The Brothers Comatose performing Jackson Browne’s “These Days”.

If you are at all unhappy with life, politics, a cruel ex-girlfriend, or calamities of any kind…find this video. As a strong, modern American, internally fortitudely (sic, for the entire sentence) secure man, I cried. After 10 plays, still crying.

Music has the power, seemingly the duty to save us from…everything. A good poem helps us. A good tune helps us. But a great song? It heals. Alters the mind. Makes life better. Not just better, but wonderfully okay, euphorically livable. Especially in old age.

I’ve written about Jackson Browne (JB) before, and how many males my age grew up with his music, his fantastically, emotionally pertinent music. You can hear almost his entire, 60 year, lifetime catalogue—done by him—performed differently in every decade since 1970. You can also hear most of his catalogue covered by DIFFERENT artists in every decade since 1970. A lot of the great 60’s and 70’s acts have such an emotional power for us, The Aging Man and Woman. For you, it might be someone else. Definitely someone else for you younger readers.

The power of this type of music is amazing, whoever it is, whenever you hear it. God’s gift to us.

“These Days” was written by JB when he was 16 and recorded by Nico in 1967. AI says the song deals with “loss and regret”. I’ve listened every decade, since.

The Brothers Comatose have covered “These Days” more than perfectly, more than respectfully. They turned it into a divine version so singularly apt for the time I accidentally found it, when it was needed most, as if their version was meant for me, alone, at this time in my life. Serendipity. Karma. Providence. (The Brothers Comatose did the same thing to Neil Young’s “Harvest Moon”, a performance I rely on, frequently, for mood settling and the overall restoration of good feelings.)

It is a hope that you, the individual, unique, one-of-a-kind reader, has something similar in your life.

One of the problems, however, is remembering you have this power to turn to in time of need. If I’d have listened to “Harvest Moon”  last night, for example, instead of memorializing my angst in writing, well…

Now I have JB, The Brothers Comatose, and the rest for comfort. How fortunate is that? Bring it on, Trusk…and the rest of life.

JB can be watched from the early days, when he was a young, handsome man, all the way up to now, age 76 in 2025. While interesting to view, does it make JB, himself, sad/happy/unsure to see himself age?

JB’s voice is gruffly pleasant to some, but not to others. It is intriguing, then to hear his songs covered by females like Bonnie Raittt, Linda Ronstadt, Nico, Allison Krause, and AJ Lee. They all—and others—have the power to add emotional depth to every JB song they perform. See Bonnie’s version of JB’s “My Opening Farewell”.

An interesting video, too, is JB and Gregg Allmann “outgruffing” each other on a live version of The Allmans Brothers’ “Melissa” from ten years ago. It is a spectacular live performance.

It’s 3 am and it has taken three hours to type this short post. Damn music videos. It appears there are many things in my life to be thankful for, many blessings to appreciate.

Calamities, Trump, deceitful girlfriend, and every single problem Old Age can throw at me, be damned. Oh, and death. Screw ‘em all.

My new motto? Devour Feculance. (Thank you, Mr. Milchick.)

And thanks to all the great artists who have accepted their gifts and shared them with us, the rest of the world.