Now is the spring of our disgruntlement, readers. Yes, it certainly is at that, and before the English department hunts me down for slandering Shakespeare, let me just try to get all of this villainy onto the page.
Surely, they can grant me enough time for that.
We’ve come from the rusted confinement of winter, our minds worn by ugly, cabin fever thoughts, our bodies aching from the cold, vicious winds.
And with spring finally gracing us with its warm presence, here at the end of April, there are two questions to ask ourselves–will we ever know different than those cabin fever thoughts?
Can we, as a town, a nation, a species, come into the promise of spring with any sense of hope?
This has been a cruel and unusual winter, a time of uncertainty, war on the horizon and the dollar collapsing into uselessness. We’ve approached the edge, the gaping maw of Nero’s insanity as he watched Rome burn.
If none of this is making any sense, you’re stronger than yours truly, and I’d raise a glass in salute to you, but there are far too many things to do for that, and my supply is dangerously low to toast all those who have a greater mental fortitude than myself.
Ah, but let’s get back on track, shall we?
We’re finally in the sunshine, readers, but as of now, it is only physical in nature and it’s competing with all the warheads, slumbering in their silos, our broken education system, our corrupted pharmaceutical system, and our backwards-thinking political foundation. When looking at it this way, the spring’s 60-degree days tremble in comparison to the never-ending supply of troubles.
On a lighter note, we’re heading into the final slam week.
The Lucky 13 Fiction Slam down at the Max seems to be a perfect way to celebrate the end of this brutal winter, and it promises to once again show the creative talent we have nestled away here in Northeast Nebraska.
It will also usher in the end of the academic year, the last burst of energy before Finals Week.
A part of me is in exuberant celebration at the fact that I have no part of that stress, but I do remember them, as if they were only yesterday. They were never easy, not because of the tests or the projects that were due, but because that was the week that I had to say goodbye to the campus that gave me the hope and promise of a future.
For you readers who are going to be graduating here in May, best of luck.
The outside world may seem like a backwards, confusing and threatening place, but it’s up to you to make it a better one than when you left it for your time in college.
As for the rest of you who still have time to serve, my advice is to keep yourselves buckled in. The ride still has a way to go for us.