Mark Twain (or Samuel Clemens) was born in a year that was visited by Halley’s Comet. He predicted that he would “go out with it” as well. True to his words, he died the day after its return at age 74.
Let’s not forget the famous “The report of my death was an exaggeration”, after newspapers claimed he was ill and had died. This false report was probably due to the fact that his cousin was seriously ill at the time.
On September 24, 1936, I wonder if there was a ripple in the world when James Maury Henson entered the stage? Who hasn’t spent weekends being entertained by The Muppets? Sometimes I feel like Jim Henson provided the imagination that fueled my childhood. The Dark Crystal was especially beautiful to me. I can’t tellyou how many times I watched those two gelflins find each other and save the day, along with the fluffy ball of something that passed as a cute pet.
Here was a man who created some wonderful worlds (as well as new ways of puppetry), yet no one seems to mention him. So today I want to remember the man (36-90) aged 55 at his death. I wonder how much more he could have added if he was still here…
It’s universally acknowledged that every story (especially a good story) has a beginning, middle and an end. That’s true isn’t it? If I were to stop writing at this point, some readers might roll their eyes, move on and dismiss me forever more. Some might be tantalized by what follows an incomplete thought.
This being said, how do you account for the addiction to dramas that never seem to end? Day time TV and the 6 o’clock news? Maybe a good story is the antithesis of life itself. Most lives, however good, are just not that exciting. Millions of us try to make an impact but our voices are just lost in the din.
Where am I going with this? You might well ask. I dont have a clue. It’s just a start…