The blog has been dreary lately. First I was sad about September 11, and then angry about how President Bush exploited the day for political purposes. Thank goodness Helen came along to enliven this place with some cheer.
In the midst of my funk, last week the latest "Rural Life" column appeared in the New York Times. I've loved these brief meditations on country living for years, and was upset when the Times temporarily paid it a pay-per-view feature online. Now it is free, as it should be.
The wonderfully named Verlyn Klinkenborg writes these pieces. One benefit of "The Rural Life" is that it gives a window into a country life that I will only experience in passing--for example, as a guest at a country bed and breakfast. But the greatest benefit is that the writing is just so good.
"Death of a Farmer" was last week's selection. Klinkenborg reports that his cousin Myron has just died, which reminds of his awkwardness on Myron's farm growing up. Myron worked the land, and Verlyn just read books. So he really didn't know what to do on his summer visits to the farm. Many years later, even after Verlyn becomes a county farmer himself, that formative difference means something.
Not that Myron made him feel guilty about this; Verlyn just knew. Myron was actually warm and generous with his younger cousin, and quite a chatterbox once he got going. Now Verlyn wishes they had talked more when he had the chance. But it's a wistful longing, not the wail of a heart torn to pieces. And like all good writers, the best way for Klinkenborg to express his regret is to put it on the page.
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