A steady stream of memories
To recall, to remember, to reminisce. Not a study in synonyms, because each carries a tone that fits an occasion. Tonight, another series by Ken Burns began on the local PBS outlet. The War, wherein a master documentarian will proceed to demonstrate the nuance of the reminisce. Not to be missed.
Mr. Burns is too young a man (fifty-four going on five hundred) to have experienced the subjects he studies. Unable to recall, or remember, he must depend upon the tone that comes from his resources. They are old enough, and time has tempered their tales. They are indulgent with us, the audience. Yes, war was hell. Yes, I survived. Ergo, it wasn’t as bad as it could have been. In fact, the day at the seaside when Pearl Harbour was attacked seems just like, oh, yesterday and a bit.
This is not my first experience with a Burns-tale. I’ve watched, and enjoyed, long discourse on the Civil War, Jazz, Lewis & Clark, Baseball (anyone that can pique my interest in long-over matches has a skill). The soundtracks are wonderful inspiration for an aspiring fiddler, and his use of zoom and pan on old photographs will push me to sort through my negatives before I’m too blind to have a focus point.
Remember, I’m of an age where The War served as a script for play. Hiding in my pillbox (the crawlspace under a Victory House; what could be more fitting?), using vocabulary extracted from a steady diet of Sgt. Rock comics from my friend’s basement. Imagining what it must have been like; that is exactly my impression of this series. Evening one is over, bring on the next chapter (tomorrow, if I remember; short-term recall is not what it used to be).
At a time when Americans need to feel strong in the face of a tenacious enemy, PBS is just doing its part. I prefer this to yet another art auction.
