From the North It Comes

“You have to inject yourself with a little fantasy every day in order not to die of reality.” — The Ray Bradbury Facebook page posted that quote Wednesday.

So here I am at my desk, fixing to write the Great American Novel, working on a Great American Newspaper, generally doing Great American Work.

I have little choice but to do American work, seeing as I am second-generation American by birth, being the grandson of immigrants (except for the quarter whose grandmother was in Daughters of the American Revolution). You may hyphenate me as you will, but I was born in America to parents who were born in America, so there you have it.

And what is “American”? That seems to depend on who you ask, and most Americans seem to think “American” is what agrees with their personal opinion — and so it is.

Superman was once said to stand for truth, justice and the American way, and all three of those subjects are open to interpretation these days.

So will I produce a Great American Novel or a Great American Newspaper? Any greatness in or around me is not for me to say anyway, so I don’t spend much time thinking about it. I just put down the words as I have the time and see fit, and the rest of you can take it from there.

And what does this have to do with injecting ourselves with a little fantasy today?

I’m not actually sure. I think I should be less concerned about truth and justice and more concerned about what that dragon is doing in my backyard. It seems friendly enough; it even pranced and danced with our dogs like they were old friends.

Every so often, the dragon looks to the north skies as if expecting a bad storm, either a late winter blizzard or an early spring thunderstorm capable of spawning tornadoes. But from its body language and its vigilance, I really don’t think it’s concerned about anything Mother Nature could throw at us. 

No, I think the dragon is watching for something manmade, or perhaps something supernatural, but whatever it is, I’m pretty sure it’s something evil.

I wonder if there are any Scarecrows, Tin Men or even a cowardly lion in the neighborhood.

Published by WarrenBluhm

Wordsmith and podcaster, Warren is a reporter, editor and storyteller who lives near the shores of Green Bay with his wife, two golden retrievers, Dejah and Summer, and Blackberry, an insistent cat. Author of It's Going to Be All Right, Echoes of Freedom Past, Full, Refuse to be Afraid, Gladness is Infectious, 24 flashes, How to Play a Blue Guitar, Myke Phoenix: The Complete Novelettes, A Bridge at Crossroads, The Imaginary Bomb, A Scream of Consciousness, and The Imaginary Revolution.

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