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Number of posts: 80
Email address: email
Posts by David Evans:
This Side Of The Rainbow
When I sat in that old church built in the Gothic style surrounded by the music that the organist was playing, I was thankful to be in such a peaceful setting, far away in body and spirit from the violence that holds so many lives hostage in this world of cruelty and tumult.
In a church where people pray for peace, forgiveness and love–all of which seem so lacking in our world–I wonder at times how we manage to reconcile what we wish the world were like and how it actually is. Sitting there in such a calm and safe spot, the lyrics of “Over the Rainbow,” a make-believe place where there are no troubles…
Lurking In The Dark
I still remember attending a logic class when the university reopened a week following the assassination of President Kennedy. The angry graduate student instructor that I had been assigned to was part of a team that tried to clarify to a bunch of undergrads what the wild eyed and mostly incomprehensible professor had lectured about earlier in the week. As we gathered for the first time, still more than a bit dazed by what had happened in Dallas and without any idea how the act would ultimately change all our lives, he glared out at us and asked, “Now do you believe that evil exists in the world?”
Streams of Moted Light
I glanced up on the top of my dresser recently and caught the eyes of my dear Aunt Dolly, gone now so many years. I keep her there in close view for a number of reasons, but most importantly for the lesson she taught me about the notion of unconditional love.
One picture of her, slightly blurred, presents a young child, perhaps only three or four, seated in a small chair and wearing a large round watch around her neck.
So how do you explain how you’ve written ten good essays in ten days or why you haven’t written a damn thing for over two weeks? Are you so glib that all you have to do is to sit at your keyboard and be amazed how a two-thousand word report on car batteries just flowed through your fingers and is a literate work of prose that hardly needs any revision? Or why you’ve dried up and can’t complete a sentence despite just returning from an exciting trip abroad and hanging out with all kinds of interesting people.
There’s a special kind of sadness to watch an old dog who has been with you many years begin to fade before your very eyes. Our senior Goldie, Hank (the Hunk), is showing his age which has brought memories of other special dogs who lived long and happy lives with me, but alas passed on far too soon for my liking.
It slips up on all of us, man and his pups alike. Most people today hope to live well into their seventies and eighties.
When the dogs rustle and I awake in the wee hours of the night, I find it soothing to get up and come out into the quiet of the house. It is in these moments when I am so alone with my thoughts that I can wander through some puzzles and wonder what tricks my mind has played on me in my sleep.
In my wild ride of dreams just a few hours earlier, I was back at Mr B.’s side, preparing him for his day, listening and laughing at his stories, marveling that I had such a job. We were en route to a discussion with a group of young officers who were assembled to hear from one of the legendary ones.
What We Craved
“All of us are beggars here,” wrote the 19th century psychologist William James as he ruminated on the enigma of existence, on the human as well as on the larger cosmological level. John Holt uses the quote in his book Why Does the World Exist? that I am now reading. As Kathryn Schulz wrote about Holt’s book in a New York Magazine review last summer,
“Mind, matter, abstract ideas: Where does all this stuff come from?”
Worthy of Comment
Also on the Dew
Or rather, helped build. Partially. Last week I attended a straw bale house building workshop in West Virginia. The workshop was hosted by Andrew Morrison of StrawBale.com, who runs similar workshops all over the world where one can go and assist with the building of a bale house and learn all about it to go home and build one's own. He's really great, super knowledgeable, funny, and an excellent teacher. He seemed to be everywhere at once, always available for questions, but never hovering or breathing down anyone's necks. Wait, straw? What kind of crazy person builds a house out of straw? Actually, Read on →
Anything characterized by high energy, originality, humor and intelligence is bound to get my attention. I was at an annual fund-raising party for an alternative art center called Nexus in about 1986. Touring the studios I kept being distracted from the visual art by some very interesting Rock 'n Roll. I wasn't the only one. A large segment of the crowd was gathered around the Swimming Pool Qs in the courtyard. Once in their vicinity I was there for as long as they would play. In any field of endeavor certain efforts stand out and the Qs were (are) definitely one Read on →
Last Thursday, just before I took my daily two-mile run/walk hunger struck. A few bites of watermelon did the trick. When I bit into that cold sweet watermelon a flood of summer memories rushed in. I recalled the great tastes of summer and with those memories came warm images of youth in the Georgia countryside. I saw stacks of dark green, striped watermelons, red, ripe tomatoes, and heard the beautiful grinding of a hand-cranked ice cream churn. Recalling the great tastes of summer I thought will make a good column. I created a document and titled it “The Tastes of Summer.” I’m Read on →
For some reason, a letter from the lobbying arm of the Heritage Foundation was characterized as having been received by NBC News, as if it were some sort of privileged communication. In fact, the thing was a press release and rather obviously designed to change the conversation about the Heritage Foundation from trying to defend the indefensible "study" of Hispanic intellectual insufficiency to food stamps, a real two-fer issue. Two-fer in the sense of being offensive on two fronts since the dollars doled out represent a subsidy to industrial agriculture, even as they serve to remind the indigent that, if they're Read on →