Should we keep dancing?
A writer we very much admire faulted my old boss, Tommy Thompson, a man of generous spirit, for championing Donald Trump, a single-minded settler of scores. The writer ascribed the seeming paradox to the former governor’s bid, at age 84 and out of office these 20 years, to remain relevant.
Relevance. Somehow to matter. Be of consequence. Remembered as something more than a walking shadow, strutting upon the stage then heard no more, “signifying nothing,” as Shakespeare’s MacBeth fretted.
Never understood the obituaries that list grieving survivors and departed antecedents, recount the loved one’s devotion to his beloved Packers, took notice of his ready smile, but omit any mention of what the poor bloke did for a living. Was his employment so inconsequential? What was his life’s work?
If one sought Sir Christopher Wren’s monument, one had only to look about his cathedral. What has been mine?
Back to square one
Blaska keeps hacking away at this blog (as evanescent a medium as exists) but that Sisyphean stone keeps rolling back down the hill. The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune sting when an erstwhile ally scuttles a new approach to electing centrist candidates to local office. Blaska’s sin, he says, is not blowing my nose when Trump sneezes. (The Tommy Thompson paradox in reverse.) Insufficient dedication to “saving the country from the insane left,” he accuses.
Such is the impact of this blog and a lifetime of conservative activism, apparently.
Blaska’s Bottom Line: Not sure I have one, today, platinum subscribers. (No refunds!) Next Spring’s school board, county and municipal elections can go hang. It’s a balmy day in late November. The Lovely Lisa has procured the Thanksgiving turkey. Think I’ll take a long walk with Number One Son in the University of Wisconsin Arboretum. Hear his dreams and disappointments. We’ll stop at the Native American Effigy Mounds and stand in silent tribute. They’re a thousand years old. Their builders left a lasting mark.
7 responses to “Is this all there is?”
Sounds like you’re losing steam. Might want to get that gravestone ordered while you still have your wits about you.
HERE LIES
BLASKA
“T’was an Insurrection”
It’s on order.
And by the way you may want to school your writer friend on what an actual tragedy is, not the elites version of a tragedy.
Case in point the Central Wisconsin Center nurse who got ran over on Madison’s north side. The ripples from her existence were likely as big as any politician.
I’ve often strolled through the Arboretum when I found myself in need of the sort of spiritual solace only Nature can provide. I sometimes bring along my well-worn volume of Wordsworth’s poetry: “Tintern Abbey” tells one everything there is to know about God, Man & Nature, all in 159 lines of flawless iambic pentameter. While there I’m just able to believe that “all which we behold is full of blessings.” Then I return to the world of “getting and spending” (Wordsworth again) and the belief fades but never dies completely. Carry on, sir! And as for your lasting monument, you can ask your survivors to plant you beneath a mound in that garden of yours that we enjoy hearing about from time to time.
Impressive poetry reference, Gary. Thank you. Following is a verse that may cheer up Squire.
To a Friend Whose Work Has Come
To Nothing
Now all the truth is out,
Be secret and take defeat
From any brazen throat,
For how can you compete,
Being honor bred, with one
Who, were it proved he lies,
Were neither shamed in his own
Nor in his neighbours’ eyes?
Bred to a harder thing
Than Triumph, turn away
And like a laughing string
Whereon mad fingers play
Amid a place of stone,
Be secret, and exult,
Because of all things known
That is most difficult.
W.B. Yeats
Amen brother. You are a man in full!
Dave, you couldn’t see the politcal center with a high-powered telescope.