Observing our Republican and Democratic lawmakers in Washington, D.C. – “lawmakers” being a generous term in a time when they do much more posturing than lawmaking – I can’t help but think of them as little more than crabs in a bucket.
The poet/artist portrays the world in vivid colors while accepting the ambiguities of ethics and morality and using figurative language that plays to the imagination and encourages flights of fancy and utopian dreams – all done with good intention.
I’ve long believed the true measure of a person is taken by the quality of those s/he can rightly call “friends.” And if I’m correct, the friendship of Del Culver, Seth Benner, John Cornell, and Pat Adkins render me one of the most fortunate of souls.
I’m not even questioning the legitimacy of their actions, but did they really think that they could mount no less than an armed insurrection on a Wednesday and return to their families, jobs, bowling leagues, and life as normal on Thursday?
Words represent our most effective means of making sense of the world and of communicating a shared understanding of virtue, righteousness, morality, honor, etc. – and their unsavory opposites – to one another and especially our children.
Anyone who can read can read the letters that form the words and the words that form the sentences and sentences that form the paragraphs and the paragraphs that form the chapters and the chapters that form the novel, but only a true reader can read in the white space between the lines and the hidden spaces beneath them. It is in those wordless spaces that the treasure that is the meaning and purpose of a novel is often found.
When I’m gone, I want to leave something of more-than-physical value behind, and I don’t want anyone to remember me as that guy sitting endlessly in front of a television, iPad, or cell phone screen.