The Death of a Philosopher - Chapter One

On October 6th, 2022, an old, pudgy man on a bicycle tried to cross over a four lane highway and was hit by a Nissan Altima going 57 miles an hour in the left lane. His face smashed into the windshield while his yellow bicycle dragged in the undercarriage below. His body tumbled violently over the car, hit the pavement at high speed, and then rolled several times, arms flailing, wireframe glasses long gone, until it came to rest face up on the pavement. And then Jesse Hobbs stared up at the fair October sky and died. That is the beginning and end of it.

This was how it was. It was a crisp Autumn morning. The sky was blue, the clouds were white. It was 69 degrees. An old man slept in a recliner, a grey and white cat curled up on his lap.

Jesse woke softly, eyes still closed, reveling in that wonderful feeling of refreshment and laziness.

He had been dreaming—what was it about? The queen of England had died, and it turned out the British family was bankrupt, so Elon Musk had offered to buy the throne. The problem was, American dollars couldn’t be spent in the United Kingdom, and so the solution was proposed to move the entire United Kingdom to America, so it could become a part of the United States.

Jesse became aware of a soft pressure on his lap. With his eyes still closed, he reached over and began to pet the cat, who began at once to purr, warm and strong and fast. He felt Thor’s bony back underneath the soft, soft fur, and he tried to remember the dream.

Mainland Europe was none to pleased about the plan for the USA to take the UK, because they had always wanted it for themselves. So finally they landed on a compromise to split up the islands and move Ireland to mainland Europe and Britannia to America. Wales was allowed to stay put. This solution didn’t please anyone (except the Welsh, who were extremely pleased), but it was the best compromise the royal family could come up with, so they were going through with it.

Jesse opened his eyes to a world of blur. He reached for his glasses, and the world rectified, minus the usual patch of blur in his left eye’s periphery. God was always giving him such strange dreams. Jesse yawned.

No, that wasn’t it.

Jesse Hobbs had had a miserable night, hadn’t slept well in weeks. He had been worried sick about his stocks, and then he had binged watched all the baseball games on the last day of the MLB regular season, even though most of them were a joke. Then, just when he had tried to go to turn in for the night, Thor had gotten hyper and run zoomies around the bedroom. Jesse had watched him in bewilderment for a while before kicking him out of the room. And then he had tossed and turned for most of the night, unable to sleep, feeling like God was punishing him. At least, it felt like punishment. Was it? No, he shouldn’t believe such things. God wasn’t punishing him. Maybe not. He had had this thought just a week ago that maybe, just maybe, God really, truly loved him: him.

No, that wasn’t it, either.

Jesse Hobbs woke up on October 6^th feeling halfway-not-tired, which was about as good as it got these days. He eased his creaking body up out of the deep chair, and slowly began to fight against the forces of entropy. All of his body tried to hold him back, but he pushed himself against the looming tremors of his oncoming mortality, dressed, measured his blood sugar, ate a quick breakfast, threw a few dollars in his pocket, and wheeled his bicycle around with zest as the garage door opened. He had been too cooped up in the weeks after his retinal detachment surgery. It was high time he got off the couch and got back out there again. He clipped on his red bicycle helmet, and then walked his bicycle down the ramp. He clicked the button and waited for the garage door to close. The maple tree in the front yard was beginning to turn a bright, bold yellow that matched the flaking paint on his ancient bicycle. The air was just right, chilly and sweet-smelling and fresh, a bite of Honeycrisp apple. He mounted his bicycle and with a thrust, accelerated down the hill and away. Jesse began to whistle. He loved his bicycle. Old faithful, still bearing him reliably along since his first trip across the country in 1971.

His tattered leather wallet lay behind at home, sitting on his bedroom desk, untouched.

But the St. Louis Cardinals had made it to the playoffs again, and his stocks were beginning to recover, and his left eye was almost completely better from the retinal detachment surgery. The blind spot in his periphery was gone, well, almost gone, and he was sure he could compensate. And the weather was fine.

Jesse left his wallet behind that day because he was devil-may-care. Let the great world spin. Freedom meant a little irresponsibility, and it made him feel just a little bit young again.

Jesse left his wallet behind as an act of defiance. Because mammon, after all, was the tyrannical god of this world, and he was brashly cutting himself off from it, un-tethered for a morning from the chains of Western civilization.

Jesse left his wallet behind because he forgot.

Jesse left his wallet behind that day because he knew what he would eat at the Bell Buckle Cafe when he got there, and he had already calculated how much money he needed to the penny, including the tip, and nothing would be wasted.

Jesse left his wallet behind because he was above worldly concerns. He was a man of philosophy and mathematics, of dreams and prophecies, a visionary who walked by faith and needed not the trappings of this world.

Jesse left his wallet behind that day because that’s what he always did. He gave it no more thought than tucking his pant legs into his high white socks before getting on his bicycle and casting out onto the open road.

Feedback

Obviously I’m writing from the heart here, but please still give me honest feedback. What were your reactions as you read it? Did certain parts make you feel sad, angry, confused, bored? It’s always valid feedback to say “I was bored.”

Author Notes

I’ve tried to resist writing about this topic for a long time, ever since my father died. But some stories just demand to be told. Sometimes I would sit down to write Broken Universe (my current science fiction book) but my heart wouldn’t let me write about anything other than my grief! Curses! But I’ve learned to go with it, for, as someone once told me: sometimes you have to write one thing in order to be able to write about something else. It’s so simple, but so helpful.

What’s important is that you “just keep swimming…” as Dory tells us in Finding Nemo.

I’m planning on having the next few newsletters be a continuation of this work*. Most of the time I have my pieces for this newsletter ready weeks in advance, but this one will be hand-to-mouth; I have no idea what’s next in the story. So, stepping out and beginning without knowing where it’s going is scary and exciting and I can’t wait to find out how it comes together.

What I can tell you for now is, it’s going to be non-linear, and it’s going to be about grief and my father. Come back next week to find out along with me!

*I don’t yet know if it will turn into a full book so I’ll just call it a “work” for now.

What’s Going on with Me

Gretchen and I went to Leiper’s Fork for our date night tonight. We showed up to the Fox & Locke, an old Southern meat-and-three with live music. An Irish band was about to start playing, and we were ecstatic. But we didn’t have tickets, and the place was sold out. It looked like we wouldn’t be able to get in. But then the hostess checked into some things and it turns out that another party had canceled. Awesome, we said, take us to the table. Sure thing, she said, leading us across the room. You’ll be sharing a table with these two strangers.

When’s the last time you shared a table with strangers? It’s something we don’t do often nowadays, but it used to be very common.

At first, we felt a little bit of shock, social awkwardness, fear, even. We shook hands with the two, who introduced themselves as brothers-in-law meeting up for a reunion of sorts—one of them had moved to Montana a few years ago and comes back to visit from time to time. Then I started sharing about a backpacking trip I took in Montana and close calls with moose and bears, and next thing you knew we were fast friends. They shared some great stories, the band was great, the food delicious, the beer better. I’m so glad for experiences like that that push you out of your comfort zone, because on the other side of that comfort zone is the other, magic, connection, newness, life.

What’s Inspiring Me

In a continuation of thought from last week, I thought I would share with you guys one of the most meaningful songs to me, which moved me deeply (again) last week: Nightblindness.

https://music.apple.com/us/album/nightblindness/889031179?i=889031238

Nightblindness is part of White Ladder, which was a genre-defining breakout album in the 90s that I keep coming back to throughout the years. For those who don’t know the story, David Gray was an absolute nobody before this album, and then suddenly he was an “overnight success.” The album was a turning point in his life, and the album itself is an encapsulated story. My Oh My is the nadir (low point) in the middle of the album where he relapses and all seems to be lost. The next song, Nightblindness, is the turning point right after. This song is super meaningful to me because it’s a sad song, but there’s a subdued but positive melody hidden in it, and thematically, there’s a message of hope hidden in it as well.

If you didn’t know, nightblindness is a noun that refers to the phenomenon that if you’re in a bright environment and then you suddenly step into a dark one, your eyes suddenly can’t see anything because they haven’t adjusted yet: you have nightblindness.

We all have those moments in life when everything was bright, looking good, and suddenly, things got really dark really fast. In those moments, all we can see is darkness. It’s like David Gray is telling himself: hold on, it will pass. Right now everything looks dark to you, but it will pass. You have nightblindness. And sure enough, after that point in the album things get better: Silver Lining follows that, where he begins to see good in the situation, and then you climb the White Ladder to This Year’s Love, where he savors the love of his newlywed wife.

Books of the Week

This week I reviewed The Light Princess, Fool’s Quest, and The Immortality Thief. You can click any of those links to see those reviews; also, feel free to sign up for Goodreads and then follow me if you want to get email updates for my reviews or comment on them and engage there.

Until Next Week

Enjoy St. Patrick’s Day!