Existential Dread

A mass shooting, a Nuclear Bomb announcement, War(s), etc...

This week, I am swimming in the 8th of the Seven Seas. The Sea of Existential Dread. It’s the one sea everyone gets to swim in whether they like it, or not. I didn’t see you there. You didn’t see me either. Miasma, fog, murky waters are all hallmarks of that place. In that same sea is the shooting in Lewiston, the terror between Israel and Hamas, the announcement about having a nuclear bomb, Ukraine & Russia, etc….

In an effort to get out of those waters, I listen to old-time radio programs. The night after the shooting, I heard the Orson Welles Radio Almanac featuring Robert Benchley podcast. I’d been listening because Robert Benchley is a humor writer, and I’m trying to learn more about humor writing, plus listening to the old radio programs gives me a little perspective on life. Like, maybe it’s not the end. Maybe it just feels like the apocalypse is near.

Also, just to let everyone know, we have a really big nuclear bomb.

Anyway, Orson Welles read Archibald MacLeish’s poem called “Colloquy for the States,” which was published by The Atlantic in 1939. The poem sounds like a call to action between the States about the rise of Hitler in Europe. When listening to it, I was moved by the patriotism (Yes, I can be moved by such things) and the unity among the states within the conversation. I found myself longing for that unity here in our present time.

Pretend you’re Orson Welles and then read this out loud.

COLLOQUY FOR THE STATES—after Archibald MacLeish (1939)

There’s talk, says Illinois

There’s always talk, says Alaska

There’s talk on the east wind, says Illinois

Talk about what? says South Dakota, says Kansas, says Arkansas

Something’s rising in the clouds, says Michigan

The corn’s pointing east, says Ohio

Too noisy, New York says, can’t tell

East, yes, says Connecticut, I’m sure

It’s Down East alright, says Massachusetts

It’s here, says Maine 
Bells, no, sirens

What? says Texas

Here

Here? says Virginia

No, here. Wish it wasn’t, says Maine 
But sure as the tides
Sure as logs in the Penobscot

Speak up, says Oregon

What is it? says Kentucky

Can’t tell, says Maine 
Sea’s churned up 
Leaves are rustling 
Wait, there it is 
Sirens
Tears in the Androscoggin 

Those, says Mississippi

Maybe it ain’t, says Texas

Heard’em two decades ago, says Colorado

Fibs, says Maine
Can’t believe it 

Think you’re any different? says Alabama

It’s sad talk, says Maine, bad talk
Not worth repeatin’ 
Wish it was the Rhine again, I do 
I don’t 

Digame, says California.

Maybe they’ll listen now, says Louisiana

Say it proper, says Connecticut

Out with it, says New Hampshire, I’ll pick your potatoes, I’ll fish your traps

Gather we’re stove up, says Maine
Shots near the Twins 
18 gone, maybe more
Tears in the Androscoggin, and it’s runnin’ high

So, says Alabama. That

Siéntate, says Florida

Can’t, says Maine. Need to stand
Gotta pace it out. Figure it out 

Can’t be done, says Illinois

Just because it hasn’t been done, 
don’t mean it can’t be done, says Maine

Don’t get it, says North Dakota, says Wyoming 

Starting to, says Vermont

Maybe, if we do it, says Maine

We’ve got to hunt, says New Hampshire

So hunt, says Maine 

We’ve got to defend ourselves, says Texas

Told you, says Illinois

We’ve got rights, says West Virginia 

To live, says small voices from above, from highchairs, from playgrounds

This is the land of the free, says Idaho

With freedom comes responsibility, says New York, says New Jersey, says Arizona 

Here, here, says Virginia, says Pennsylvania

Have we earned it? says Nebraska

We could wait, says Kansas

Been waitin’, says Connecticut, says California, says Colorado, says Washington, says Kentucky, says Florida

They’re dying at the blackboards, eating dinner, hitting spares and strikes, says Maine

Listening to music, says Nevada, what are the odds

Under their desks, says Texas

Our own blood in the mountains, 
On the shores, In the valleys and fields, 
Jesus, sea to shining sea, says Wyoming

It’s time, says Maine 
We’ll do it first 
Just follow the winds 
Coming from the north 
The sun from the east

For the tears in the Androscoggin, says Rhode Island 
For the tears in the Platte, the Connecticut, and the Mississippi, too

Can’t wait any longer, says Maine

Don’t wait, says Utah
 
Together, says Oregon

Sure as logs in the Penobscot, says Maine
Sure as the tides.

Until next week,

Nina