The life of Brian, and other stories
November 29, 2024
Thanksgiving, as such
Among the blessings and consolations I’ve accrued over the past decade or so is a wise and gently supportive ex-wife, a retired psychologist, who reminds me that Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday—Christmas without the stress of Christmas. That’s mostly true. However. (cough) It’s also true that in years past—among the gravy boats and turkey platters—I’ve provoked and/or endured more than a few arguments (I come from a large family with strong-willed sisters and brothers-in-law). I lament this and I’ve tried to suppress my memories of them, choosing to remember, instead, how my late Uncle Bob (a gifted comedian, who could do a spot-on Howard Cosell impression) introduced us to green bean casserole—with the creamy mushroom sauce and the French fried onions on top. God Bless you Bob, and for all the other memories as well.
I wanted to write today to encourage you to share this Substack offering with people you think may enjoy it, and also request that you become a paying subscriber to The Daily Rhubarb. My hope with the Rhubarb Skies project, ten years ago, was to offer a blend of original reporting, essays, and nature photography, all of which have been interests of mine since I was a teenager. The Daily Rhubarb Substack offering has been an ambitious extension of that idea. With your help and support TDR will enter its third year, come February. The hardest part of my job is to ask for your support and help, and one way you can help is to give a gift subscription to people you love, or even people you’d like to provoke, for that matter. I’d also like to invite you to check out and/or share this link to the Rhubarb Sky photography store where you can view many of the nature and wildlife images I offer for sale. They make great gifts and we cover the cost of shipping within the price of the print(s).
For those of you still getting to know me, journalism runs in my family, through my mother’s side. I began doing investigative reporting in my teens, for student newspapers in Panama and at Washington State University in the Palouse. I was also learning photography during that time from my father, who became interested in cameras when he was on active duty in Korea in the mid-1950s. My dad was a big “C” Catholic. He was also the chair of the Science department at my junior high school where he taught evolution and encouraged a hands-on approach to the science of nature. He deeply believed in the ethics of a multi-cultural, civil society, and the justice, rights, and freedoms that a healthy democracy promises.
Before he passed in late 2017 he viewed the rise of Donald Trump and Trumpism as a deeply disturbing repudiation of the values that guided him throughout his life. I share that view, and unabashedly so. Beyond that, he also believed in wonder, and brought a sense of wonder into his science teaching and our father-son photo adventures. To sustain hope in hard times it’s vital, I think, to have a refuge from our deepest frustrations and nature is a realm of sustenance, especially in hard times.
One of my regrets, is that I met “Brian” the bull moose after dad passed away. For reasons I hope are obvious, I’d been reasonably vague about where Brian likes to hang out. But as I’ve known, for a while, Brian also likes to swim where I swim and he demonstrated this on the 4th of July, this year, taking his plunge while ignoring dozens of bathers and rafters who’d gathered at the usually quiet beach.
It would delight my father, as it delights me, that North America’s largest ungulate shares his realm with North America’s smallest bird—the Calliope hummingbird.
I’ll leave you with these images today, and my commitment to keep delivering the news, the stories, and the wonder, as best I can locate it. I hope you are surrounded by people you love and who love you back, and that you can savor the rest of your weekend. As always I welcome your feedback.
—tjc
