Monday, August 29, 2005


Week-opening, season-ending thoughts

Good day and welcome to the end of summer. If I could tell you more on the subject, I would, but just like you, this is the first and only end of summer for 2005, so I remain motionless. I can, of course, ask you to join me in the turning of another season and celebrate. For as Pete Seeger sang, “there is a season” and as Donovan reverberated, “there is a mountain.” Of course Donovan’s mountain disappeared –“then there is not mountain” but it came back –“then there is.”

In the world of alternative broadcasting, we are not concerned with mountains. Come to think of it, seasons mean little, either. So, you see, when September comes around, one only ponders the time and puts away the swimming trunks. Unless you are from Down Under. There, of course, summer readies to sway and dawdle, just what Aussies want (swaying and dawdling dates back to the 1600s in Australian culture).

Summer Down Under and winter Up Over, it all goes to prove one thing—we are one race divided by seasons. It is often said that if you dig a hole deep enough in Texas you will dig to China. But what about digging a hole in Ohio? Where do you wind up doing it there? And who dares to finance such a venture? After all, why not just fly to China, if that’s where the tarnation you wish to go for whatever reason?

Now, on with the toil, the trouble, the joy and the madness, the agony and the ecstasy, the wind and the willow, the Hope and the Crosby. This is the stretch run of 2005, the warm September of our years. What dies is replaced by what is born. What gives depends upon who takes. And, of course, nothing that changes will ever be the same.

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