Truth and the Sound of Bumblebees

For the first time in a week, I felt comfortable raising the metal blind in the room I write in. Opening the window felt pleasant. Lisboa’s heat has backed off, so opening up the writing room to sunlight and outside air is okay. As I looked at the clear sunny day outside I pondered the one true sentence I should begin my writing with. 

Initially, based on a friend miscalculating the time zone differences between us resulting in a 6:30 am call I had thought to begin with something like, ‘When you are 27 a phone call late, late at night or early, early in the morning means somebody is drunk and wants to talk. Well, that or they need bail money. When you are in your late sixties a phone call late, late at night or early, early in the morning usually means something heavier, something darker. You pick up those calls slowly and with trembling hands.’

I kicked that idea around for an hour or two and couldn't figure out how to write it without depressing anyone reading it. Just thinking about it sent me back to all those awful phone calls I received over the years. We have all answered our share of dark telephones. My head is not in place today to review all those painful memories. On a sunny day like this I just can't go to that space. However, it is a worthwhile opening and I may well return to it on another day, perhaps in the deep dreary midwinter.

Next I thought about writing about how when reading something a really smart person has written all my fears about intellectual inadequacy resurface. The genesis of this was my reading of Heather Cox Richardson's latest post. https://open.substack.com/pub/heathercoxrichardson/p/august-18-2024?r=6yy7a&utm_campaign=post&utm_medium=email Her article detailed the history of what led to the passage of the 19th Amendment. This amendment granted women the right to vote in all governmental elections in this country. I should have known those facts, or at least once upon a time I should have known those facts. Truth be told I am not sure I ever did and that is on me. After a lifetime of reading legal documents for a living I became an executive summary reader. On more than one occasion I have missed the important bits because of it.

Nope, I decided I didn’t need to tear my psyche down stone by stone and show it to the world. Perhaps the way to go would be to discuss the fact that what we have been taught is not the actual story.  Or maybe something about what you see depends on where you stand relative to the action. 

I would say nothing novel by laying out how our prepackaged educational curriculum has impacted Americans' perception of historical events. Often our views of history are skewed by the narratives that make us the heroes in what is best described as an American myth. The 'facts' read to us in school, and memorized by us, tend to highlight certain American white male narratives. However, they often omit a look at the broader truths and the real and valid interests of all the parties involved. This curated perspective clearly impacts how we interpret events and learn from them. But I gave up on this because it was too damn arduous to think about such matters so early in the week.

In the alternative I could get back to my Jean Shepherd roots and write something real but truly absurd. I mean I could talk about how the sound of an unfortunate recent incident of 2 am flatulence on the part of someone I know woke his wife up and set her to screaming. Based on the vibrato sound of the errant butt burp this poor woman thought bees and other bugs were invading the couple's bedroom. She set about screaming and thrashing to ward them off. When informed about what had actually happened the long suffering woman was truly peeved. But that would be gross and pedestrian. And anyway, the woman would deny it ever happened. 

Oh well I am just going to hang it up for the day because I have laundry to fold and a walk to take. Tomorrow I will start earlier with a clearer mind. Sometimes we need to recharge and refocus.