Friday, May 3, 2019


TBG and I have taken to watching old Westerns instead of politics in the morning.  It's a much better way to start the day, focusing on the clear, black and white distinctions, between good and evil.

"They knew why I shot him - he killed  my horse."

"She loved me and left me - I shot her."

"You emptied the water barrels in the middle of our trek across the desert - you don't deserve to live."

Things were very simple back then.

Without much ado, punches are thrown, bullets fly, dead men are left behind, and Paladin rides on.

I loved Richard Boone when I was young; Paladin was my favorite of the oaters.  There was something comforting about a grown-up taking charge, trading his services for a jewel or a bag full of cash.  The characters he encountered were multi-dimensional (within the confines of a 22 minute episode) and needed him.

You sent a telegram, explained your problem, and asked for his help.  Have Gun.  Will Travel.  His card said it all.

He worked for himself, when he wanted, for whom he wanted.  He set his own fees.  He left when he was finished, leaving the bodies for others to bury.  He knew right from wrong.  With more nuance than menace, he rescued damsels in distress.

I often imagined myself as a damsel in distress.  He was my hero.

And so, driving home from dropping everyone off where they needed to be, unable to stomach more than a minute or so of Morning Joe on the radio, I was delighted to return to Paladin on the television, my sweetie finishing his sleep on the couch, Thomas-the-Wonder-Dog curled up at his feet.
Sometimes, black and white simplicity is all I need to feel rescued.

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