A Front Row Seat Nighthawk
Vol. 110, July 23rd, 2024 Published a day early online
A Front Row Seat?
A movie scene: a rainy night, lightning flashes, revealing the worried face of the duke. “You must reach the boat, Anatoly. They’re coming for me.” The coachman huddles under oilcloth, nods to his benefactor with a choked sob, and hurries his young wife away into the dark. The movie shifts to the Bolsheviks, who get the Duke, and do the bloody thing that Marxists always do. Coachman Anatoly is forgotten, off screen. He’s a side character in a melodrama–and also my great great grandfather, who got out of town in the nick of time. He didn’t feel like a movie star, because they didn’t exist, but drama springs eternal.
Cut to now: wild times, man. I can’t decide–do we have front row seats to a movie, or are we in one (metaphorically speaking)? I like the idea, strange as it is. We can decide how we play our part. Plus, you know they’ll be telling the story of “these times” for years. How would you like it remembered?
I’m a side character, descendant of an extra. Great Great grandpa was good with the Duke’s horses. I’d like to be a steward of the Duke’s generosity–the gift of breathing, and the writing of the next chapter.
What a time to be on set!
Quote of the Week
“But they are useless. They can only give you answers.”
–Picasso, about computers
A Rainy Day in the Pond
Looking like a Monet painting, a Great Egret hunts frogs in the pond out back.
(View through my telescope.)
Carol’s Appalachian Word of the Week
Sorry (no account). “He’s about as sorry as you can get for a husband.”
Happy Birthday, Typewriter
William Burt files the patent for a “typographer” today in 1829.
Movie of the Week: What About Bob?
This comedy from ‘91 is the perfect pick me up. Bob (Bill Murray) drives his shrink Leo (Richard Dreyfuss) crazy–and it’s shot at Smith Mountain Lake.
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Letters from Josh
(A weekly update from Josh Urban’s adventures on the farm and in the city. #195)
Appearing in the Altavista Journal, etc: No Sir
Howdy, folks, and welcome back to the show. Like an echo on the radio, this column has a lag between the writing and reading. The July 13th attempted assassination of former President Trump took place since we spoke last. I had already filed the lighthearted piece about collecting honey, and hope it wasn’t out of place. Bad timing on my part.
I was up in the mountains for some stargazing and hiking that weekend. It’s a great place to think, so that’s what I did, trying to figure out what to say here. Strange as it may sound, a rock climbing trail felt like a conversation with the mountain as I grappled with the ancient stone, getting to the heart of what’s real. The path would suddenly level out, as if the mountain agreed with a point, then hoist me up to the sky, pushing me to a breaking point, asking Do you really think that?
We are so lucky the bullet missed. At first I was shaken to the core. Now I’m grateful beyond measure, and I’d like to share this with you.
This column isn’t the place for politics. But, assassination isn’t politics. While it might look like it has a “side”, what are sides when the game is abandoned? This attempt isn’t only a tragedy, but the effort to flip the chessboard of everyday life. What would have happened if the pieces scattered? But they didn’t, and we have a second chance.
People argue about killing. It’s hard to watch, and makes me sad, but I also think it misses the bigger point. Would we like to live in Society, or live in War? A basic example: stoplights only work because we agree on the rules. Sometimes I’d rather them green than red, but it’s better to be late than dead. I like them, and I like society. I choose it over war. Politics are messy, but better than the alternative.
Now, the last thing any of us want is for me to turn into a pundit. Oh boy...If I tell you what “we” need to do, aren’t I being sneaky, and telling you what you need to do? “Watch out for that speck in your eye, buddy.” In light of that, I’m inclined to stick to writing about honeybees. Perhaps there’s a third way, though. If I think out loud, maybe I can put a few pieces together, and maybe others can add to it. So here goes.
Condemning violence is a good start, but seems useless if it stops there. It’s only a complaint if I don’t examine any tiny part I play in winding things up, if responsibility for my little corner is shirked. I like to think I haven’t contributed to the fog of the world, but that would be too easy.
Where to start? I’m not sure. I’ve been weaker than I should be. I’ve avoided problems, big and small, avoided talking serious matters with friends and strangers. My overinflated sense of importance? Ah...working on that. I’m grateful for the grace and patience of friends.
This is a turning point. This is a golden opportunity to step back from the madness, to do what needs to be done. To use a DJ metaphor: If the world is a foggy place, I say “no sir, I will no longer be a fog machine, I will no longer add to the bad stuff.” It’s time for me to be strong. It’s time to do good. How glorious are second chances? I’m absolutely taking this one.
–Josh