The Northward Contrail

On days that start getting longer again, eventually

We're back from our trip, and done with Christmas for another year (and I hope to have more to say about both in coming days; the trip ended up being better than I anticipated, while Christmas Day itself, while not exactly like the one I wrote about yesterday, wasn't bad either). I've always thought it a little sad that there's such a buildup to Christmas, and then it's gone. The handful of days between Christmas and New Year's Day are always a time I enjoy, because you're just playing out the string before hanging up a new calendar and everything begins anew.

It's in that spirit I offer this essay about my favorite Christmas-themed television special, courtesy the folks at the AV Club. For me, the really moving part came with these words in the closing, which resonated with thoughts I've had about life's melancholies and minor keys, and the glimmers of light in life's darknesses:

A story doesn’t have to have actually happened to be true. Every word of the Christmas story doesn’t need to be literally accurate for its underlying sentiments—peace and hope and joy—to still speak to us, just as no one would ever argue A Charlie Brown Christmas is non-fiction, but it touches something deep and true in many of us. The great old Christmas carols—“God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen” or “O Come, O Come Emmanuel” or “What Child Is This?”—are all in minor keys, because they express the world’s longing for something better. Yet life will never be perfect. Even when that something better comes along, the minor key never really goes away, just as the melancholy never quite seeps out of A Charlie Brown Christmas, even during the sing-along at the end. But where those songs and the Bible verses that inspired them look to the heavens for the miracle that will lead us forward, A Charlie Brown Christmas invites us to look to each other, to gather together during the darkest nights of the year and create our own kinds of light. The days will start getting longer again eventually. We just have to wait.

Task list

A lot I have to get done today: items I have to get at the store, cleaning I have to get done, and all sorts of other business. That's occupying my mind this morning, and therefore I have nothing that profound to share - assuming, of course, the word "profound" could ever apply to anything constructed within my skull.

So, ladies and gentlemen...Mr. Buck Owens.

Mr. Rooney

Over the weekend there was a passing. It's significant to me not only because his career spanned most of the history of commercial television, and not only because his passing means yet another veteran of the Eyeball Network's salad days has left us, but it hits home because Andy Rooney was, above all else, a writer. He knew the value of words and the power of language. Sometimes it misfired on him, and spectacularly. But more often than not, I appreciated what he did. I have several of his books, and some of them contain the transcripts from his long-form specials from the 1960s and 1970s. It's writing of the sort you never encounter on television these days, and a sad reminder that although we have hundreds of channels, so little of it is worth the viewing. (I'd dearly love to find some of those specials he did with Harry Reasoner, but they're hard to find; nevertheless, bits and pieces are out there, and since he also served as a producer on some special projects for CBS News, you'll sometimes stumble across a piece on YouTube that definitely shows his influence.)

I also make my living with words, and maintain this blog as a home for the random thoughts that fit nowhere else in my day: the ruminations, complaints, grievances, puzzlements, irritations and occasional appreciations. In its own way, it's my "few minutes" with you each day; it's my own "back of the book" piece, same as Andy Rooney had at the end of 60 Minutes.

But instead of puzzling over something or voicing some random complaint, today's post is squarely in the "appreciation" category. I shall miss him.

Better

I dragged myself in to the office yesterday morning; it's that work ethic that'll be the death of me someday, I know, but it's a choice between death or the forms I'd have to file with the higher-ups if I missed a day.  (Heck, even if I did die, the higher-ups would probably make me fill out forms for that. But, I digress.)

As soon as I could get my students squared away, I called it a day and headed out. After a stop by the pharmacy for some things, I headed home for an early lunch. After that, I sacked out on the couch and tried to get some rest. The emphasis there is on "tried," for a half hour later our cats decided to play Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom. 

Fortunately, even a half-hour's rest did wonders, and a quiet afternoon with no television and very little noise (well, once the cats decided to take long afternoon naps) did the rest.  By early afternoon I was feeling well enough to walk the half mile to the end of our road and back. This morning, I feel dangerously close to healthy again.

With some luck, I'll get through today with few hassles. Or, at least, that's what I'm hoping.

:: While I'm at it, get-well wishes to Professor Mondo. (What is it with this time of year, anyway?)

It's not just fabulous prizes

Over the weekend I found a piece of video I hadn't seen in close to 20 years, and had never seen in its awesome entirety.  Suppose your network is shoving your television program over the side, to be replaced by yet another game show. What better way to go out than with a musical tribute to your successor, right?  If that ever happened to me, here's how I'd want my final few minutes on the air to go.  (I only wish I could have done something like this on my last day at my previous job.)

My neighbor

After the sadness of the previous two posts, some inspiration and hope may be appropriate as we move on with life.  Thankfully, I didn't have to look too far for those things.  A thread on a discussion board led me to a couple things that warmed my heart as few other things have in a long time, and served as a fond remembrance of a good and gentle man I loved to watch on television growing up.  The first is this beautiful piece, which I believe originally ran in Esquire about 15 years ago.  I loved it then, and I still love it. 

As if that's not enough, this utterly awesome piece of video seems like something out of a movie script, but actually happened. The line from Proverbs about "a gentle answer turneth away wrath" comes to life in this scene.

Let these two things warm your heart and lift your spirits on this Wednesday.

Submitted for your approval

While I'm too busy today with too many other things, check out what the A.V. Club has now started doing: reviewing episodes of The Twilight Zone, starting with the pilot and moving forward.  Utterly awesome.  While you're at it, check out this piece about "The Arena," a Studio One written by Serling.

A treasure trove

The other day I was looking around for something on the YouTubes and stumbled across this amazing channel.  If ever you doubt the need for archivists and librarians, or wonder what they contribute to our lives, I'd hope the amazing pieces preserved in this collection would remind you.

Of particular interest to the aviation-minded is an extended, multi-part interview that starts here, conducted many years ago with one of Alaska's true aviation pioneers.  It's not only a great contribution to history, but a reminder of the need to collect these kinds of reminiscences before those who made history are gone forever.  Watch and enjoy, and also don't forget to explore the other stuff in that collection, for it's guaranteed to amaze.

The morning ritual

There was a little ritual I had every morning when I was a high school student.  I had to be up by a certain time each morning, because I had to watch A.M. Weather.  And if I missed even a little bit of that show, I wasn't happy.

I'm not sure how I discovered this little show.  It was one of those things that had been there forever, and maybe one morning I happened across it and was taken by it or mesmerized by all the maps or something like that.  But it became a morning ritual.  Every morning I had to be up in time to catch it, from the underwriters' billboards at the top of the show (Phillips 66!  Showalter Aviation!  The Gorman-Rupp Company!) all the way through to the very end.

As fascinated as I became by how different the show was, the more I watched, the more I picked things up.  I learned little things about how weather works.  And it was also my first exposure to aviation weather forecasting, too.  A.M. Weather had a lot of support from the aviation community (those underwriters' billboards were the way I first became aware of the AOPA and the Ninety-Nines, for instance).  There was a lot of information packed into each of those little 15-minute programs.  Joan and Carl and Wayne and the other forecasters who'd occasionally fill in became a familiar presence, and I admired how they presented so much good information so quickly.  Plus, they didn't fool around with happy talk; they cut the crap and got straight to the point, which is appreciated very much when (like me) you're not a morning person.

After high school ended I stopped watching, for there was no longer a reason for me to be up that early, and a few years later the suits at Maryland Public Television made a business decision and took the show off the air.  To this day, A.M. Weather is mourned by many, especially in the aviation community, and despite some rumblings here and there, efforts to bring it back have not worked out.  But it's still loved, and still missed.  Thankfully, a few episodes are still out there, and you can get a little taste of what it was like if you click here.  (Somewhere in my sea of junk, I have an episode on videotape.  I recorded it one morning to needle a friend who was amused by my fascination with the show.  I seriously need to find that tape.)

All of this came full circle a few weeks ago, as I was completing my application to join the Ninety-Nines.  On the application, you're asked how you became aware of the organization.  So help me, what did I write? Something to the effect of, "I first became aware of your organization because of A.M. Weather."

Little show, you are gone but not forgotten, and you are missed.  And if by some miracle you came back, I'd make room for you in my mornings once again.

The unthinkable

Over the weekend -- and I'm not sure what set it off, but it happened -- my Cold War fascination was reawakened.  I spent a lot of time in the giant rabbit hole that is the Internet, reading up on weapons systems and Soviet politics and atomic tests and people like this guy.  And, too, reading up on incidents that brought the unthinkable frighteningly close to becoming reality (this is a too-brief list, but it's a start at least). 

And I spent some time thinking about the various audiovisual content produced during that time.  There's always this old standby, along with this somber contemporary...then there's this and this, and while I have yet to watch either (but I know I'll probably have to, in the name of some research I may undertake in the future), I understand full well each is still a kick in the guts a quarter-century later. 

One thing I'd forgotten about, but happened to find bits of online, is this documentary.  The scenario may have its flaws, but it's interesting to see the actual system depicted as it theoretically would have operated, using the actual hardware, in the first segment.  Then from there, though it has a lot of talking heads, it remains interesting in its own way -- and, since it's from a time when my own consciousness of the Cold War was just starting up, it sends chills of familiarity down my spine.  I remember the controversies over the MX Missile, for instance...and, of course, in 1979 there was no way of knowing that the Cold War was a few years away from getting extremely frosty (or that this guy would scare us all to death).  Or, for that matter, of knowing that a decade later, things would radically change.

I know there's still danger out there, and that in its own way the times in which we now live are more uncertain.  In some ways, it's a safer world; in other ways, it's not, and though we don't think about it that much there are still scenarios that could play out and bring global destruction.  Nevertheless, as someone whose childhood fears became a fascination with the Cold War, it's interesting to spend time with these kinds of things. 

Even if, sometimes, the memories they bring back make it a little harder to get to sleep at night.