Let me see you write a better one

Michener 1,515 / Hemingway 308

My reading dry spell ended abruptly a week or ten days ago when I picked up one of my copies of "Centennial" by James Michener and began reading it for the sixth time. I frequently write inside books I own, even some old, first editions. Book values? Who cares? Inside a paperback copy I have this written:

"Re-read this book December 21-26, 1978. First read it two or three years ago. Been re-reading a lot this fall." Other re-read dates are 1980, 1984 and 1998. In addition, I have read my favorite chapters, three through seven, three additional times. Some books become a part of you.

This book is not a minor project. The paperback version is 1,086 pages. The hardback is 909 pages. I began this time by making myself read for a mere thirty minutes a day. Sort of like an exercise routine and, just like exercise, putting in an extra half-hour here and there is not a sin.

I am not certain when I first began reading Michener. Probably in high school. I had read an even dozen of his books (at least once) before he finally wore me out. He could write more than I could read, and published about forty books altogether, including both fiction and non-fiction.

My favorite genre is the historical novel, and by that I do not mean books where the emphasis is on wizards or knights wearing tights or fairy tales. Michener is an excellent example of a legitimate historical novelist. His success as an author gave him the ability to hire dozens of historical researchers and to visit the geographic locales (actually to live in them for a few months) he wished to write about and to interview people whose ancestors had been history incarnate.

Once the bait is tasted, the hook is swallowed. I had a very explicable urge to re-read Ernest Hemingway's "Across the River and Into the Trees." This came after, I might add, someone told me she was reading some of Hemingway's first forty-nine short stories. I joined in long enough to grab my copy and to fall under the spell of "The Snows of Kilimanjaro."

My selection of "Across the River, etc." was the result of wanting to tour Venice through the eyes of Hemingway -- to hunt ducks, to pursue young ladies, to eat and to drink and to soak in the Venetian atmosphere as it existed in the late 1940s and early 1950s. Many consider this to be Hemingway's weakest novel. To which I say, let me see you write a better one.

Once upon a time, I had a copy of "Across the River, etc." It has now vanished, disappeared, been swallowed up by time -- whatever. So, I turned to our ever-present ally to find anything and everything, the Internet, and in four-days received a first edition copy in fine condition (other than a very tattered dust cover). Let the reading begin.

The tale opens with duck hunting, which I no long do or even like, but I am able to identify with Hemingway's protagonist, Colonel Cantwell, and with the sights and sounds of being in a marsh covered with thin ice as the sun rises. His (Hemingway's / Cantwell's) marsh is a salt marsh just outside of Venice. Mine, for the most part, were in Minnesota. Other than location, everything is the same -- the sights and the sounds. These are the things that are most remembered from the experience of a hunt.

Most events which are near-identical in nature, such as hunting ducks in a marsh, are little different no matter where they occur, I think. Only the geographic location is different; all else is the same. I am not certain how much changing the location affects the event itself. Anyway, back on subject: I am enjoying the book, which at 308 pages is tiny compared to the works of Michener.

Finally, if this were not enough, I decided I need more and more and more, so I returned to the Internet and ordered a copy of "Poland" -- another book from the wandering Michener which doubles as a paper weight. This one is sort of brief for him, only 616 pages in the hardback edition.

Curiosity might be my downfall some day. I latch onto events or people or places because I want to know them and to experience them first-hand. Michener was hired to do a documentary of any country in the world of his own choice. He chose Poland. Why? Why Poland? I know inside myself that I have to read this book if I ever hope to discover his reason.

What evolved from this project were years of research, several trips to Poland and four years spent writing the novel. Why? Why? Why? "The devil drives," as some character in some novel once said.

In the instance of Fram Actual, Nicolai Gogol might have discovered a more logical explanation and described it in his short novel (or long short story -- take your pick), "Taras Bulba." If I seem to speak in riddles and your curiosity matches mine, read our ascetic, Ukrainian friend's book and, possibly, discover the answer to the riddle while enjoying a story our narcissistic, Michigan buddy, Hemingway, once proclaimed to be among the ten best books in the history of literature.

Life is a non sequitur.

Go Your Own Way

Ever see a Fleetwood Mac concert way back when? Here is a sample of the band's sound once upon a time, and on this occasion playing undoubtedly its greatest song, "Go Your Own Way." This is from a 1982 performance in Los Angeles. Most definitely chair dancing music.

Back then, drummer Mick Fleetwood and bass guitar player John McVie appeared to have just arrived from an audition to act the role of Grigori Rasputin in a horror film, but look like kindly, old grandfathers today. Lindsey Buckingham was and still is a fine song writer and singer, and a virtuoso on the guitar. Stevie Nicks was a great singer and, in my mind, the most beautiful woman on the earth. Now that she is about 60, I think it would be only fair to move her down to the No. 3 or No. 4 position among the most radiant women in the world. Ah, yes, the allure of mature women. Other band members have come and gone.

You might note that an occasional stuffed animal is tossed upon the stage or handed to Stevie. This was a tradition, and probably still is, for her and for many Fleetwood Mac concert-goers. She took these stuffed toys, as well as others she purchased herself, and personally distributed them to kids who were undergoing medical treatment in children's hospitals.

Two thoughts:

(1) Anyone can quietly make a positive difference in the world without disrupting the lives of others or shouting, "Look at me." Someone should advise politicians of this fact.

(2) And, the type of music an individual prefers -- whether it be classical, jazz, country, rock and roll, gospel, Broadway and show tunes, pop, Christian, blues or whatever -- tells you absolutely nothing about the inner nature of that individual.

Life can be fascinating when it is read between the lines.



Go Your Own Way

Loving you
Isn't the right thing to do
How can I ever change things
That I feel

If I could
Maybe I’d give you my world
How can I
When you won't take it from me

You can go your own way
Go your own way
You can call it
Another lonely day
You can go your own way
Go your own way

Tell me why
Everything turned around
Packing up
Shacking up is all you wanna' do

If I could
Baby I'd give you my world
Open up
Everything’s waiting for you

You can go your own way
Go your own way
You can call it
Another lonely day
You can go your own way
Go your own way

What Is and What Should Never Be

And if I say to you tomorrow.
Take my hand, child, come with me.
It's to a castle I will take you,
where what's to be, they say, will be.

Catch the wind, see us spin, sail away,
leave today, way up high in the sky.
But the wind won't blow,
you really shouldn't go, it only goes to show
That you will be mine, by takin' our time.

And if you say to me tomorrow,
oh what fun it all would be.
Then what's to stop us, pretty baby.
But What Is And What Should Never Be.

So if you wake up with the sunrise,
and all your dreams are still as new,
And happiness is what you need so bad, girl,
the answer lies with you.

Oh the wind won’t blow
and we really shouldn't go and it only goes to show.
Catch the wind, we're gonna see it spin,
we're gonna .... sail, little girl ....
Do do do, bop bop a do-oh,
my my my my my my yeah.
Everybody I know seems to know me well
But they're never gonna know that I move like hell.

Against the Wind

It seems like yesterday
But it was long ago
Janey was lovely, she was the queen of my nights
There in the darkness with the radio playing low
And the secrets that we shared
The mountains that we moved
Caught like a wildfire out of control
Till there was nothing left to burn and nothing left to prove

And I remember what she said to me
How she swore that it never would end
I remember how she held me oh so tight
Wish I didn't know now what I didn't know then

Against the wind
We were running against the wind
We were young and strong, we were running
Against the wind

And the years rolled slowly past
And I found myself alone
Surrounded by strangers I thought were my friends
I found myself further and further from my home
And I guess I lost my way
There were oh so many roads
I was living to run and running to live
Never worried about paying or even how much I owed
Moving eight miles a minute for months at a time
Breaking all of the rules that would bend
I began to find myself searching
Searching for shelter again and again
Against the wind
A little something against the wind
I found myself seeking shelter against the wind

Well those drifters days are past me now
I've got so much more to think about
Deadlines and commitments
What to leave in, what to leave out

Against the wind
I'm still running against the wind
Well I'm older now and still
Against the wind

With or Without You

See the stone set in your eyes
See the thorn twist in your side
I wait for you

Sleight of hand and twist of fate
On a bed of nails she makes me wait
And I wait without you

With or without you
With or without you

Through the storm we reach the shore
You give it all but I want more
And I'm waiting for you

With or without you
With or without you
I can't live
With or without you

And you give yourself away
And you give yourself away
And you give
And you give
And you give yourself away

My hands are tied
My body bruised, she's got me with
Nothing to win and
Nothing left to lose

And you give yourself away
And you give yourself away
And you give
And you give
And you give yourself away

With or without you
With or without you
I can't live
With or without you

With or without you
With or without you
I can't live
With or without you
With or without you

Symbols of personal freedom

The Great American Gun Show

The great American tradition: Mom, apple pie and baseball. In some parts of the United States (probably most parts), add to that gun shows. Usually not much is heard about them unless it is a real or imagined negative commentary coming from anti-gun activists. In reality, gun shows are happening all around you several times a year, and they draw people of all ages and all occupations and all religions and both (all ??) sexes.

For instance, I drove a few hundred miles to attend this show. I encountered six other people who I know: A university student, a diesel engine mechanic, a land surveyor, a real estate agent, a bank president and a medical doctor, each of whom had driven at least a hundred miles individually to attend this event.

This particular show was sponsored by the Dakota Territory Gun Collectors Association. The group puts on about fifteen shows a year at various locations in North and South Dakota. While the primary ingredient for this particular show was collector and antique firearms (the value of many ranging into the thousands of dollars), guns are not the only objects bought, sold and traded at the association's events.

Firearms-related accessories are the secondary items present, of course, but as shown in the center of the middle photograph is an original Oscar Howe painting. Oscar was a Yanktonai Sioux artist whose work is known and recognized worldwide. Many would argue he is the individual who brought contemporary Indian art to the attention of modern America.

His style was unique and is now much imitated. He took traditional Sioux painting and injected it with Cubism, which turns his paintings into mystical, dreamlike and tremendously beautiful works of art. In addition to being a producer of art, Oscar was a teacher of art, first at the high school level and later as a professor at the University of South Dakota -- a small school, which has had some giants among its faculty members.

A portion of another of his paintings is barely visible on the far right end of the same table. Someday, I might do a post on Oscar; in the meanwhile, those who appreciate art, especially work which reflects the American Indian culture, might care to check him out on their own. Here is a start:

http://www.oscarhowe.org/resources/Collection_Paintings_Info.pdf

The firearms in front of the center painting in the middle photograph, incidentally, are cased sets of matching, antique, dueling pistols -- also mystical and beautiful, but potentially deadly. As the old saying goes, "God made man, but Samuel Colt made them equal." Although, I suppose a few men with names such as Winchester, Henry, Smith, Wesson and Remington might argue the finer points of who exactly deserves the credit.

Personal note

I am roaming about, here and there, but have made no extended treks to date. That is coming in the not too distant future. I also have been tending to business, which is to say, pack up a house full of "things" and prepare otherwise, as well as to pay social calls. To a couple of people who sent emails during the past week or so, I promise I will catch up and respond.

For heavy-duty rockers only

The song I have posted this time is not a love song or a ballad. It is hard rock, metal rock, from a motion picture called "Point Break," which is a hard film, a metal film. There is no particular reason for posting the song other than it goes with my mood = follow the sun (and the stars).

The band is known as Ratt, and the guitar men are excellent. Too bad the vocalist is more of a raspy-voiced screamer than a singer. The music is dandy, and the lyrics are sort of arrogant. There are at least two versions of the lyrics, and I have mixed them both into one. The song is, "Nobody Rides For Free."

Nobody Rides For Free

In my dreams see I'm on tv
Get back exactly who I wanna be
If she could really see herself in my eyes
This wouldn't be such a big surprise

I'm sick and tired of it getting in my way
I'm sick and tired of everything I seem I know

Nobody rides for free
Nobody rides for free

Don't stop to think cause I know where I stand
I'm on my way, no, you're not gonna change my plan
If you can break away and see what I say
You'll understand what I'm trying to be
If you can break away and see what I say
You'll understand what's burning inside of me

Nobody rides for free
Nobody rides for free

I'm sick and tired of talking bout little things
I'm sick and tired of everyone in my way
I'm sick and tired of talking to my little dates
I'm sick and tired of everyone in my way

Nobody rides for free
Nobody rides for free
Nobody rides
Noooobooody...nobody rides for free
Noooobooody...nobody rides for free
Noooobooody...nobody rides for free
Noooobooody

You've gotta pay to play
So don't you stand in my way
Now the world's at stake
The card was drawn
Cause nobody, nobody rides for free

Nobody rides for free
Nobody rides for free

Now the water was deep
The current was strong
You thought he could swim but I guess you were wrong
You sink to the depths of your misery
Baby, the past will set you free

Nobody rides for free
Nobody rides for free
Nobody rides
Noooobooody...nobody rides for free
Noooobooody...nobody rides for free
Noooobooody...nobody rides for free
Noooobooody

You've gotta pay to play
So don't you stand in my way
Now the world’s at stake
The card was drawn
Cause nobody, nobody rides for free

Nobody rides for free
Nobody rides for free...

The Best of Times

Tonight's the night we'll make history, honey, you and I
And I'll take any risk to tie back the hands of time
And stay with you here tonight
I know you feel these are the worst of times
I do believe it's true
When people lock their doors and hide inside
Rumor has it it's the end of Paradise
But I know, if the world just passed us by
Baby, I know, you wouldn't have to cry

The best of times are when I'm alone with you
Some rain some shine, we'll make this a world for two
Our memories of yesterday will last a lifetime
We'll take the best, forget the rest
And someday we'll find these are the best of times
These are the best of times

The headlines read 'these are the worst of times'
I do believe it's true
I feel so helpless like a boat against the tide
I wish the summer winds could bring back Paradise
But I know, if the world turned upside down
Baby, I know, you'd always be around

The best of times are when I'm alone with you
Some rain some shine, we'll make this a world for two
Our memories of yesterday will last a lifetime
We'll take the best, forget the rest
And someday we'll find these are the best of times
These are the best of times

And so my friends we'll say goodnight
For time has claimed its prize
But tonight will always last
As long as we keep alive memories of Paradise ....

Come Sail Away

I'm sailing away, set an open course for the virgin sea
I've got to be free, free to face the life that's ahead of me
On board, I'm the captain, so climb aboard
We'll search for tomorrow on every shore
And I'll try, oh Lord, I'll try to carry on

I look to the sea, reflections in the waves spark my memory
Some happy, some sad
I think of childhood friends and the dreams we had
We live happily forever, so the story goes
But somehow we missed out on that pot of gold
But we'll try best that we can to carry on

A gathering of angels appeared above my head
They sang to me this song of hope, and this is what they said
They said come sail away, come sail away
Come sail away with me
Come sail away, come sail away
Come sail away with me

I thought that they were angels, but to my surprise
They climbed aboard their starship and headed for the skies
Singing come sail away, come sail away
Come sail away with me
Come sail away, come sail away
Come sail away with me

Lady

Lady, when you're with me I'm smiling
Give me all your love
Your hands build me up when I'm sinking
Just touch me and my troubles all fade

Lady, from the moment I saw you
Standing all alone
You gave all the love that I needed
So shy, like a child who has grown

You're my Lady of the morning
Love shines in your eyes
Sparkling, clear, and lovely
You're my Lady

Lady, turns me on when I'm lonely
Show me all your charms
Evenings when she lays down beside me
Just take me gently into your arms

You're my Lady of the morning
Love shines in your eyes
Sparkling, clear, and lovely
You're my Lady

Lady of the morning
Love shines in your eyes
Sparkling, clear, and lovely
You're my .... Lady