Bubbles I Blow


Bubbles I Blow, Beads I twist; All The Rest Is Darkness And Conjecture“.

That was the one and only question on my English Lit. 101 course final. I immediately siezed on my answer, wrote my essay, and recieved the only A+ given out that day. Certainly I was proud of myself. I have kept those words with me for all these years and have tried to convey their meaning on many occations, receiving looks from aha moments to utter confusion. This morning while reading the paper, the perfect elucidation came to me.

I recently read a wonderful book entitled, The Oregon Trail, A New American Journeyby Rinker Buck. It is the hair raising, enlightening, enderaing story of two brothers who crossed the country in an authentic three-mule-team covered wagon. Their highs, their lows, their conguests and defeats gave testimony of the hardships and trials the intrepid pioneers must have experienced on their pursuit of the American Dream.

As I read the book my heart began to fill with wellbeing, patriotism and oneness with my country and my fellow Americans. After seven grueling years of apology for who I am, abysmal rips and tears in our inherited fabric, and the shrinking away from our assigned task of Leader of the Free World, I finally saw again what made this country great and what gives me my joy in being a flag waving, chest bumping, Fourth of July, bonafide American.

I wrote the author thanking him for writing such an inspiring book and thanking him for giving me back my nationalistic pride, so battered and beaten these last seven years. He wrote back and told me that giving people back their ‘national pride’ was not what he had in mind when he made the crossing nor when he wrote the book. He went on to say, however, that after it was all over and the book was published, he had the exact same feelings. Bubbles He Blew, Beads He Twised.