Cracked Window

Fame for a day, judging from this review of the book I co-authored. Observing reaction to Pendleton Round-Up at 100: Oregon’s Legendary Rodeo has been gratifying. Readers and reviewers like it so far, including on Amazon, where I’ve cajoled no one to plant praise. Granted the book’s approach doesn’t invite criticism. While not rah-rah, the tenor is certainly exuberant in its broad exploration of an event with remarkable staying power. Of course the Round-Up isn’t just a rodeo, which is key to its century of success. Few communities can boast of an annual happening so integrated into the lives of their residents from one generation to the next.

I hope Roger Cohen of the New York Times wins a Pulitzer Prize for his remarkable commentary from the streets of Tehran. (He discusses the coverage here.) But world-stage politics aren’t his only topic. Yesterday’s gem, “The Meaning of Life,” uses a study of monkeys’ caloric intake to explore universal themes. And his image of baboons in a zoo greeting his father is as poignant as you’ll find in a newspaper column. Newspapers may be in trouble, but the journalism that Cohen practices will always have an audience.

I’m a big fan of a guy’s blog. He’s a storyteller, and a damn good one. Even if he wasn’t, he’d win my award for best blog name: And I Am Not Lying.

Jeff Simmermon hasn’t posted much lately, and I just found out why: he apparently has testicular cancer.

His account of learning about the tumor and what’s ahead is entertaining yet poignant, like his other writing. The piece also conveys an attitude worth emulating when confronted with a serious medical problem.

The older I get the more I wonder how I’ll handle what’s likely inevitable.

What’s the context of these quotes from the epigraph page of a book I bought today? Not the unfolding torture scandal, though it could be. Instead they set the tone for Savages & Scoundrels: The Untold Story of America’s Road to Empire Through Indian Territory by Paul VanDevelder.

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Every so often I stumble upon a story and see myself as the central character:

It sounded like a bunch of centaurs were following an exercise video upstairs, right above my bed this morning. Interesting visual, but at 7 AM there ain’t a damn thing more fascinating and beautiful than the backs of my eyelids underneath the blankets.

Thus begins another installment in a blog that I cruise to daily, hoping for a new entry. The best stories, writes the author, Jeff Simmermon, are “fertilized with a pinch of some amazing shit that always starts with ‘And I am NOT lying.’ ”

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