Welcome to my Dream
Remember that song? "Welcome to my Dream?" I know you've heard it, and I did last night. Bing Crosby sang it on his way to Dawson City from Skagway with his pal Bob Hope in a 1946 movie called "Road to Utopia". Yup, even back then this north country was Utopia. (Actually, I think it was supposed to be a joke.) But the main thing I want to relate is, that after I put the mountain goat meat in the crock pot for enchiladas (my husband has a guys' only hunting-tale evening and 'game feed' tonight, and I'm making another pan for the new grandbaby's parents.) Anyway, after I started the meat cooking, and after I brought four wheelbarrows of firewood from the shed to the porch, and after I watered the huge red amaryllis and made some more coffee, I wrote a brilliant blog entry that should have been a New York Times Op-Ed piece about that movie, and Utopia. In it I wondered why all the movies now have such real murderers and why love on screen always means sex, and why there's Wal-Mart when everyone prefers shopping in a small local store, and why someone is slipping high fructose corn syrup in everything we eat and drink even though it's making us obese and giving us diabetes, and is that same bad guy behind the notion that we don't need public health care because the free-market will take better care of us? I also asked why factories keep making plastic stuff we don't need and can't even throw away without poisoning ourselves, and why there's still war when no grandmothers on the planet want their grandchildren to ever be anywhere close to one-- All that big thought stuff, but organized much better and way less crazy. Then I pressed the wrong button and it vanished and I decided my short-lived career as an editorial writer for the Times was over and said a lot of really bad words, the kind Bing and Bob never said. But I want you to know, that when I was done, I concluded that the Road to Utopia still runs north, and I for one am glad you can't drive on it. We still have to take a boat, just like Bing and Bob did to Skagway. (Okay, you can take a small plane now too. I know, but it wrapped up neater starting with a boat and ending with a boat. Which doesn't really matter since I lost it in cyberspace.)
You know, I take back what I said about this being a brilliant NY Times Op-Ed. It is, I now see, more like a country song. Maybe I can set the words to the tune of "Welcome to My Dream."