Psychology
This old brain, seeking some comfort from the relentless arrival of such "very bad news from the front," found itself in a silent reconciling waltz with an old friend, M. Aurouet, that is, Mister Voltaire, and specifically the final words of the bravely undauntable Candide.
During the past month, MeanMesa
has suffered the mind numbing ennui of the conquered who still await
the victor's lash. Of course, the time was pleasant enough, spent
mindlessly languishing -- unperturbed by dark invading thoughts from the
world -- amid the glorious sunlit days and the sudden wet coolness of
the season's unpredictable high desert monsoons.
"Work then without disputing", said Martin; "it is the only way to
render life supportable."
The little society, one and all, entered into this laudable design
and set themselves to exert their different talents. The little
piece of ground yielded them a plentiful crop.
...Pangloss used now and then
to say to Candide:
"There is a concatenation of all events in the best of possible
worlds; for, in short, had you not been kicked out of a fine castle
for the love of Miss Cunegonde; had you not been put into the
Inquisition; had you not traveled over America on foot; had you not
run the Baron through the body; and had you not lost all your sheep,
which you brought from the good country of El Dorado, you would not
have been here to eat preserved citrons and pistachio nuts."
"Excellently observed", answered Candide; "but we must cultivate
our garden."
And, although perhaps waxing poetic, it was to precisely this lofty destination to which MeanMesa
cast sail, seeking some quiet relief -- no matter how synthetic -- from
the maelstrom of deceit and intransigence which has fallen on our
country.
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