Dogwood and Redbud Day

"Nature knows no indecencies; man invents them."   - Mark Twain's Notebook

Yesterday was a dogwood and redbud day under a clear Missouri sky, but it was an unexpected surprise.  Thunderstorms rolled in with fireworks about 3 o'clock and continued to blow through until about 8.  Then the morning sky turned gray and the air felt damp and sticky.  All forecasts called for partly cloudy at best, but by noon the sky was clear.  This surprising day became a glorious riot of warmth and color.

For over an hour we enjoyed the solitude of the Little Lost Creek Wildlife Area and soaked it all in--the warm, earthy smells of the woods after rain, the new minted green of spring grass, the sudden appearance of several butterfly species flitting through the stand of oak trees, and the antique foundation of an old homeplace at least fifty years after demolition.  I could see a fifty-year-old oak now towering up where the old kitchen used to create the smells of home.  I wondered who lived there and what happened.

Yesterday was spring baked in a 90-degree oven as I sat on the levee at New Haven watching the Missouri River flow past on its way to the Mississippi River just north of St. Louis.  The water reflected the blue sky.  The north shore trees appeared pale green.  The grass under foot was dark, vibrant green.  The sun felt hot on my pale winter skin.  Finally, after all we have been through for the past months, it was spring in the heartland.

As I sat on the levee bench, I imagined the exotic Mandan village that perched by the river when Meriwether Lewis and William Clark led their expedition here.  Moving upriver then required the hard labor of poling and paddling long before the luxury of steamboats.  I think about what they saw.  I mourn what has been lost forever and celebrate what has been perserved.

I imagine Samuel Clemens coming here on a steamboat in 1861 and stepping off the landing stage at Miller's Landing.  He was on his way out west to Nevada with his older brother Orion.  He was leaving the dangers of Civil War Missouri and heading out into the unknown.  That day he stopped here in July, he was just another passenger.  Years later, Sam returned a famous man.  It was his time on the river.  Yesterday was mine.

Sitting there, I thought about time and how it moves like a river--never stopping, never reversing course, never completely remembered or totally forgotten.  I thought about past, present, and future coming together.  I thought about memory and prophecy and how quickly the river moves, and how it never stands still.

I thought about the glory of April 9 we will carry with us but never see again, but I also thought about the present.  I thought a great deal about the present moment in which all things live.

The Game of Life

"There was never yet an uninteresting life. Such a thing is an impossibility. Inside of the dullest exterior there is a drama, a comedy, and a tragedy."   -Mark Twain, "The Refuge of the Derelicts"

All literature is based on the premise that all human life is interesting.  We keep telling the same stories over and over because they captivate us and hold us in their literary grip.  News stories, novels, biographies, televison shows, and movies are all based on our love of the well-told story. 

We watch the drama of the Fukushima Daiichi Nuclear plant in Japan with facination.  The idea that power plant workers would risk their lives in an heroic struggle to tame the nuclear dragon seems mythic to us.  We seem drawn to this life and death struggle like moths to the flame.

Perhaps we are drawn because it is our story too.  We seem to forget from time to time that there are no winners and losers in life.  It's just life.  We often focus on the wrong things.  We often work far too hard on trivial pursuits.  We often worry too much about winning and too little about facing our own dragons.

I met a man recently who has slowly lost everything over the past two years.  He has lost his job, his home, his standing in the world, and his marriage.  His life over the past months has been a slow spiral down.  What amazed me was the fact that he was down but not out.  He looked at me and said, "It's just life."

I have experienced a little life myself.  Ten years ago we lost everything.  It was a terrifying experience, and I would not wish the experience on anyone else, but the good news is that we survived it.  Best of all, the past ten years have been the happiest and most fulfilling years of my life.   

Mark Twain knew that "a drama, a comedy, and a tragedy" is part of every life.  I think deep down inside we all know it too.  After all, it never was about winning and losing; it was always about playing the game well. 

So go ahead and step up to the plate.  What are you afraid of?  Spring training is over, and it's time to play ball.  Anything is possible.  You could get a single, drive a home run into the right field bleachers, get hit by a 95-mile-an-hour fastball, or strike out.  It's April.  It's just time to play. 

April Fools

"This is the day upon which we are reminded of what we are on the other three hundred and sixty-four."   - Mark Twain, Pudd'nhead Wilson's Calendar

April is the month Chaucer's pilgrims started on their medieval journey to Canterbury.  Having survived the cruelty of winter, they set out for the cathedral to give thanks.  This journey seemed to be a religious pilgrimage, but it was much more than that.  The pilgrims also left London for a springtime romp through the greening countryside.  They also got out of town for a good old holiday and a little spring foolishness.  To this day, we follow their fool's trail every spring.

April is one of the best months of the year for fools.  It even seems acceptable and trendy.  It is officially celebrated on April first.  We even toast the most creative of our 2011 fools.  This week I heard about some very clever attempts to break the winter ice in more ways than one.  One young man poured a little vegetable oil on his buddy's exhaust pipe.  This created a billowing cloud of smoke behind his car and heart-wrenching anxiety for a few minutes.  In addition, you really can't go wrong with the old trick of marbles in the hubcaps.  The horrible, grinding noise sounds just like an engine ripping apart.  You will have to admit that the look on your friend's face will be worth all the effort.  The ultimate office foolishness requires the most irresistible cookie known to man.  Oreo cookies are like respectable crack so no one can ever resist an Oreo.  So replacing the white filling with toothpaste is also classic. 

Why do we do it? Why do we go to such lengths for foolishness?  Perhaps life just gets too serious sometimes, and we long for a little relief.  Perhaps we hear far too much bad news.  Maybe we are sick of it all.  It is possible we long for the old days when we were free to play tricks on our friends and enjoy the tricks played on us.  In any case, we seem to need April after January, February, and March.