Loiter is such an odd word. According to the web it shares a root with “lurk.”
People who loiter are on the opposite of a moral dividing line from
“flâneurs”; both categories of people do very little, but we supposed are to
approve of the latter. I begin here because I sometimes spend a day reading
without much sense of purpose, picking up this and that like a painter waiting
for inspiration. After just such a day and a shower in the evening, I see
connections.
I believe I’m thinking about supporting roles, and animals in narratives. This
is partly because, you’ll be astonished to learn, I’ve written some talking
chickens into act two of my current play and I’m wondering if they’re there to
stay. But it’s also because two of the roles are under-written and need
attention.
So I read about Gavin Maxwell and his otter and learned that the woman in the
movie version of “Ring of Bright Water,” who I vaguely remember as love
interest, was onto a loser: Maxwell was gay. And he died of smoking eighty
cigarettes a day, which I don’t recall being in the movie. Nor was Richard
Burton-scale whisky consumption.
I read that George Washington was over two hundred pounds and stood more than
six feet tall. He had many sets of teeth. One, made of lead, weighed three
pounds.
I read that in 1780 he commanded between 2,500 and 3,000 men. The Rhode
Islanders were three-quarters men of color. The French contributed forces that
gave him a two to one superiority over Cornwallis’ 7,500 men at Yorktown.
Perhaps we should consider re-naming it the French Revolution?
Name’s already taken?
Adam Hochschild’s, “Bury the Chains; Prophets and Rebels in the Fight to Free
an Empire’s Slaves,” begins with the startling assertion that there were more
slaves than free people in the eighteenth century world. He’s counting Russian
serfs, people in indentures, slaves in Africa…
I read that the first mention of whisky in Scotland was in 1497, and that the
word alcohol comes from Arabic al-kuhul, “kuhul” being a dark powder used as an
eyeliner.
And then there were the Spanish pigs, which are not generally given a starring
role in narratives about America’s founding. Kenneth Davis, “America’s Hidden
History,” says that they were responsible for spreading many European diseases
to American wildlife and thence to America’s indigenous people. Which
diseases, I hear several of you exclaim. “Anthrax, brucellosis, leptospirosis,
trichinosis and tuberculosis.” p.19 The chapter, titled Isabella’s pigs,
challenges the conventional narrative that America was settled first by British
protestants. But you knew that was wrong, right? But did you know that
kicking Jews out of Spain helped pay for Columbus’ voyage or that it was a
Borgia who arranged the Papal Bull that allowed Isabella to marry her cousin?
Or that Isabella inherited the throne of Castile from “Enrique el Impotente,”
her gay half-brother? (p.14)
And so we come finally to yet another book I’ll not write, titled, “How did the
wife die?” Why am I not going to write it? Because no one wants to be known
as “the wife,” or “the help,” or “the half-brother.” But I read the NYT review
of a new biography of Longfellow and noticed that wife number one died of a
miscarriage, in Belgium I believe. And wife number two died of trying to seal
an envelope. While melting the wax, she set fire to her dress. Carlyle’s
wife, on the other hand, expired while on a carriage ride through Hyde Park.
Apart from the play of “carriage” and “miscarriage” there’s not much connection
is there, really? Pretty much loitering on a Monday.
Well then, carry on, with or without intent.
David Ritchie,
Portland,
Oregon------------------------------------------------------------------
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