“When?”

Dearest Rachel –

There’s a scene near the beginning of the movie Blazing Saddles which serves as an establishing character moment for Gene Wilder’s Waco Kid. After being offered something for breakfast by Sheriff Bart (and turning it down, claiming “food makes me sick”), he takes yet another long swig from his whiskey bottle, much to Bart’s consternation.

“A man drink like that, and he don’t eat,” the sheriff comments with a combination of awe and genuine concern, “he is going to die!”

You know how it’s said about certain people that ‘their smile doesn’t reach their eyes’? Most of the time, I can’t relate to the concept, as I’m not good at seeing emotions of any sort in someone else’s eyes. But with Wilder, I can actually get it; throughout this scene, he is smiling, sort of, but it’s clear in his face (I’m still not sure about whether it’s the eyes) that he’s desperately unhappy as he stares at his newfound companion and asks the question his character deeply wants to know:

“When?”

***

Look, honey, I haven’t ‘crawled into a whiskey bottle,’ let alone ‘stayed there ever since’ your departure, nor am I likely to. Any moments that I pass up food are actually for my own betterment, and I even have doctors’ recommendations to back that up. In fact, most of the changes I’ve put myself through since your departure would be considered by those around me to have been improvements – despite the fact that it feels terribly wrong to say my life has gotten better in any way, shape, or form since you’ve been gone.

And I want to make it clear that I’m not really in a hurry to cross over to your side; if I really wanted to do so, there are faster and more efficient ways to do so than what I’m putting myself through. I don’t think anyone would claim that I’m acting in a self-destructive manner; indeed, most would say I’m doing quite the opposite. The things I’m trying to do are meant to make me stronger rather than kill me.

But there are moments when I find myself looking up at the heavens and wondering that same question the Waco Kid uttered as he was told that he was on the express lane to the hereafter…

“When?”

***

It’s not just the fact that you’re no longer around that makes me long for the next world, although I don’t deny that it’s what serves to direct my attention there. There is nothing like losing someone younger than yourself to get you to consider the frailty of life itself; if you could go, how is it that I’m still here? It’s something I’ve had to deal with since before even meeting you – you might remember what I told you about Petra that first night you came over to play your records for me (for all I know, you may have met her over the past few hundred days). And when you lose someone as close as you were to me, the hereafter becomes a lot more appealing, since you assume that where your lost loved one is, It leads one to wonder why one person has to go and another one has to stay – if only for now.

And that’s the thing; I’m here for now, but eventually I know I’ll get my chance to join you. This is a sentiment that has been expressed going back as far as King David, who, upon losing his and Bathsheba’s first child (as a judgement for their getting together in the first place, as well as the effective murder that came about as a result – so, unlike most of us, he had an answer as to the ‘why’ behind his loss), proceeded to clean himself up and go on with his life, remarking that “one day, I will go to him, but he cannot come to me.” That’s pretty much where I am at this point, complete with the ‘getting on with life’ bit, even if it feels a little callous to do so, on reflection.

But there’s always that thought in the back of one’s mind, how that ‘one day’ will come. But in human terms, it seems so far off.

***

It doesn’t help that things down here don’t always seem like they’re worth sticking around for. There’s a lot going on in the world, honey, and it would have been nice to discuss it back and forth with you, to get your take on it all, but apart from things in my immediate orbit, nothing looks all that promising. To hear tell from certain quarters, it’s only a matter of time before anyone who questions the prevailing narrative will find himself in the dock or in a cell. And just think, the powers that be who are doing so are the same ones who, only fifty or so years ago, were running amok, screaming “Question authority!” Now that they are the authority, the scream has changed to “How dare you question my authority!”

If they ever do decide to round up folks for the gulags for wrongthink, I think I’d just as soon volunteer for the firing squad as soon as possible, just to have it over and done with.

It do be like that some times, honey.

***

And yet, by the end of the film, as Bart prepares to ride off into the sunset, Jim (the Kid’s real name) is the last person he sees on his way out of town. He’s no longer holding a whiskey bottle – although the box of popcorn he is holding is a reminder that the fourth wall is already well and truly broken – because he’s found both a purpose (in saving the town) and a friend (in Bart). He’s no longer seeking death, even though it would still eventually claim him, albeit as one of the last of the main cast of the film. He doesn’t even need a direction anymore, as the ‘nowhere special’ that Bart is headed toward sounds more than good enough for him:

“I always wanted to go there.”

And from now, I’m always wanting to go where you are. I’m just waiting for my ride to the limo. Until it gets here, keep an eye on me, and wish me luck. I’m going to need it.