Cool Water

It’s one a.m. and the night air still carries some of the day’s warmth with it. There is enough of a breeze that the branches of the ash tree in the back yard are doing their dipping and bowing thing, which has awakened the wind chime from a three-day slumber. All is well out there.

So much branch activity is also triggering my motion detector alarm continuously, so I turned it off for the rest of the night. This means of course that we are now vulnerable to footpads, pillagers, cutpurses, and bandits of all stripes. Such is my faith in this bit of technology’s ability to scare off any sort of intruders that I wonder if I’ll be able to go back to sleep, knowing that the proverbial door is open.

You scoff? A simple blinking red light is no barrier to a resourceful highwayman or 700 pound Siberian tiger, you say? I beg to differ. In the twelve years we’ve lived here, in spite of all the things out there that go bump in the night, we’ve never once been ransacked or ravished.

No, friend, when you invest $29.95 in a security system you expect and get the best.

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My rec center playlist served up a song I hadn’t heard in the longest time, Change, by Big Thief. When I use such lists during exercise I am never quite certain that what I remember hearing is accurate, being short of oxygen and all that. But these were pretty thoughtful lyrics and they’ve stayed with me. The chorus reminds me of a theme that shows up often in films and literature, which is that if we could live forever, we would face an unending series of losses as all those we knew and met and loved would die while we persisted. Forever.

Would you live forever, never die
While everything around passes?
Would you smile forever, never cry
While everything you know passes?

I think in such a situation I believe that I might take the same defensive position that men often do in wartime when on the front lines … not become attached to the new guys because you know that many of them were destined not to make it. Altogether I think that it would be too sad, too lonely a place to be.

Can I talk about vampires for a moment? Anne Rice wrote some of what might be the most intelligent stories about them in her series of books, and there are moments in those narratives when exactly these same thoughts are expressed. The loneliness of never dying, of having retained the ability to care while knowing you will forever be the survivor, and that each of your beloveds will eventually be taken from you.

Nope, don’t think I’d like it very much. Not at all. The present cosmic arrangement has quite a few unknowns in it, and a glitch or two besides, but all in all it seems preferable to me.

Change, by Big Thief

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As we stumble through the present fetid morass that is our public life toward the day when the reins of government are wrenched from the hands of the fascists, it might be helpful to give thought to what a handful of others have thought about power. We could start with that maxim of Lord Acton’s: Power tends to corrupt and absolute power corrupts absolutely. Great men are almost always bad men, even when they exercise influence and not authority.” Sounds good enough, and might help to explain the tumor that is Cluckism and its allies.

But Frank Herbert, the author of Dune, flips that on its head when he says: All governments suffer a recurring problem: Power attracts pathological personalities. It is not that power corrupts but that it is magnetic to the corruptible.” I like this latter explanation better. For me, that is where the light goes on in the cranium.

But, anyway, here’s a smattering of other people’s thought on the matter.

“If you want to find out what a man is to the bottom, give him power. Any man can stand adversity — only a great man can stand prosperity. ”
― Robert Ingersoll

“The day the power of love overrules the love of power, the world will know peace.”
― Mahatma Gandhi

“They joined hands.
So the world ended.
And the next one began.”
― Sarah J. Maas, Queen of Shadows

“Washing one’s hands of the conflict between the powerful and the powerless means to side with the powerful, not to be neutral. ”
― Paulo Freire

“We know that no one ever seizes power with the intention of relinquishing it.”
― George Orwell, 1984

“Those who profess to favor freedom and yet depreciate agitation, are people who want crops without ploughing the ground; they want rain without thunder and lightning; they want the ocean without the roar of its many waters. The struggle may be a moral one, or it may be a physical one, or it may be both. But it must be a struggle. Power concedes nothing without a demand. It never did and it never will.”
― Frederick Douglass

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Here’s a story for you. The classic country-western song Cool Water was written as a poem by Bob Nolan in 1936, when he was still in high school. He went on to form the musical group Sons of the Pioneers, where he put music to the poem and recorded it in 1941. For me, the tune has always been around, because as soon as I was old enough to appreciate music, Cool Water was there.

While it tells the story of a parched man traveling a wasteland tormented by mirages and talking to his mule, it could also be taken as a metaphor for a traveler seeking truth and enlightenment in a world seemingly filled with dishonesty. Either way, hope is offered to the desperate.

Cool Water, by the Sons of the Pioneers

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On The Trails

The movie “Sinners” took the #1 box office slot this past weekend, and Robin and I were happy to help them attain that economic honor, even though we had to drive to Grand Junction to do our part. I had read a large handful of reviews of the film, and all of them had been glowing. (When you are going to spend 2.5 hours driving back and forth from the theater to see a movie, it is prudent to do a little research.)

As we walked out after the show, we asked each other the same question (as we always do) and it was “What did you think of it?” Turned out we both thought it was very good. And then we asked ourselves … who can we recommend it to? Because it is definitely a rough cob of a movie, and depends heartily on what one thinks of all the telling and retelling of the vampire legends you have already consumed in your life. But here’s the thing. It is a story with vampires in it, but it is not a “vampire movie.” It is much more than that.

The film has a pulse, and it is a thumper. Nearly all of the characters are bigger than life (the humans) or bigger than death (the vampires). All of them are involved in the struggle for their existence, and if that involves blood and sweat and great music and juke-joint dancing with a capital “D,” well, that’s just how it is. The story hurtles along and demands that you keep up with it for the two hours that is its running time. It was so engrossing that I still had popcorn left as the credits rolled. And that is something to say, if you ever saw me eat popcorn at the movies (not a pretty sight at all, what with using the hands as shovels and all that).

Here are my own ratings, on a scale of 5 :

  • Story = 5
  • Performances = 5
  • Sex = 4
  • Colorful language =5
  • Gore = 5, maybe 6
  • Cinematography = 5
  • Costumes = 5
  • Evocation of an historical era … time and place = 5

See it at your own risk. I nevah said nothin’.

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From The New Yorker

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There is a young woman who lives across the street from us, who bought a small Honda scooter last year. She doesn’t ride it often but when she does she goes helmetless.

I suppose that I could greatly endear myself to her with a harangue about cracked skulls and flying brain tissue and that such vehicles were called “donor cycles” by the neurosurgeons when I was a resident. I could do that.

But she’s young and bulletproof and would only nod tolerantly at some geezer giving her unsolicited advice. My own experience strongly suggests that if you’re ready to hear such advice you don’t need it. You’ve already bought the helmet.

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Yesterday morning I woke with this ear worm: Love’s Been A Little Hard On Me, by Juice Newton. You know about ear worms, right? A fragment of a song that keeps repeating in your brain, unwanted, often unloved, for no apparent reason? Well, scientists have created an earworm eraser, designed to get the darn thing out the way and preserve not only your sanity but that of those around you who must listen to you singing the same short phrase ad nauseam.

I make no claims as to the effectiveness of the “Eraser,” but hey, it’s free and it only takes 40 seconds to find out.

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Love’s Been A Little Bit Hard On Me

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There is an absolutely lovely stretch of bicycle path that runs from Ridgway State Park into the town of Ridgway itself. It follows the Uncompahgre River and offers picturebook scenes galore with often stunning views of the San Juan mountains. There is only one thing wrong with it and that is its length. Only three miles long.

Robin and I biked the path on Sunday, ending up in a coffee shop in Ridgway, where the kindhearted barista was able to conjure up a pair of mochas as good as your mother used to make … honest.

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From The New Yorker

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Secretary of Defense Hegseth apparently used the communication app Signal inappropriately yet another time, when he brought his wife, brother, and personal lawyer into conversations where he shared classified information. Information they were not at all cleared to hear.

President Cluck officially has full confidence in this blabbermouth, but somewhere in that morass of incompetence he calls an administration there must be be somebody who knows this is bonkers. Until they can figure out how to keep Hegseth from revealing even more secrets, I offer this simple fix. It would be removed only at mealtimes.

Either that or don’t tell him anything.

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Hard Times Come Again No More, by Ian Siegal

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Robin and I were on an exercise walk up in the Sunset Hills across the Uncompahgre River when we came across this item. Someone had taken the pains to create this tiny place-marker, carry it up the hiking path until they found just the right bit of natural material, and then insert it as an amusement to passersby.

We found two of these handmade op/ed structures, in different locations. I judged them to be completely disrespectful and almost perfect in their metaphoricness.

But of course it was littering. Tsk tsk.

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