“Never go into the wilderness with someone who can’t rescue you is what they say.” Ben hoisted his battery-powered oxygen machine. It whirred softly. We walked down the hall to where everyone was gathering, hurrying towards 6:30 to discuss jazz.
***
Three brothers gathered on the screen, waving back across cyberspace.
“Good to see you fellas!”
One of them leaned over his guitar, and I leaned over mine. We’re thinking of doing a podcast episode where we all share our perspective (not advice) from our mileposts.
***
An old neighbor sends an idea along, a friend sends a bit about neutron stars and “starquakes”, a librarian colleague photos of her tour to see the redwoods.
***
It feels like we’re all assembling for an expedition, or a mission. Sometimes I’m the one talking, and sometimes it’s you. Sometimes I’m the one speaking about the history of Elvis, sometimes it’s a quiet little lady who worked with him personally, sharing her story. “He seemed to be an introvert.”
I’m the commanding officer of my little platoon, and you’re the CO of yours. We both happen to be in both sometimes, too.
A platoon isn’t an audience for the CO, a place to clap politely. It’s a unit to go do something. It feels like a time of accretion, of coalescing, of preparing to embark.
It feels like a time to muster.
Ben said it best.
Never go into the wilderness with someone who can’t rescue you.
–Josh
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