The slow-drawn wagon

by chuckofish

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I had a very quiet weekend. In fact I never left my house! The wee babes came over on Sunday for dinner and shook things up for a wee bit, but they weren’t too…rowdy… IMG_1974.jpegIMG_1958.jpeg

They are always so good at entertaining themselves with the same old toys and books while the grownups talk.

Speaking of books, I read one I picked up on the giveaway table at work–This Dark Road to Mercy by Wiley Cash.

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It was pretty good, but I can’t say it lived up to the cover hype that it was a cross between Harper Lee and Elmore Leonard. There were two children in the book, but they weren’t exactly Jem and Scout, and, yes, it took place in the South. Comparisons are odious and sometimes downright embarrassing.

I also watched a couple of good movies–Rooster Cogburn (1975) with John Wayne and Katharine Hepburn…

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and Wagon Master (1950) directed by John Ford and starring Ben Johnson and Harry Carey, Jr.

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Rooster Cogburn is worth watching to see the two great stars (both 67 at the time) so obviously enjoying themselves. Clearly they liked each other and were having a fine time. Who cares if the plot is a bit shopworn? The scenery is beautiful and the music rousing.

Wagon Master, on the other hand, is a real masterpiece…and there is nary a star in sight. Ben Johnson and Harry Carey, Jr., usually supporting players, are called upon to carry the action, along with Ward Bond, and they do just fine. It is a beautiful movie filmed in black and white by Bert Glennon in Moab, Utah. The story, which follows a group of Mormon pioneers going West, is a solid one and, as usual in Ford movies, is populated with realistic characters.

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Yes, that’s Russell Simpson as a Mormon elder next to Jane Darwell.

So I recommend both movies.

Now it is back to a busy week at work. I am also looking for something to read!

The big doors of the country barn stand open and ready,
The dried grass of the harvest-time loads the slow-drawn wagon,
The clear light plays on the brown gray and green intertinged,
The armfuls are pack'd to the sagging mow.

I am there, I help, I came stretch'd atop of the load,
I felt its soft jolts, one leg reclined on the other,
I jump from the cross-beams and seize the clover and timothy,
And roll head over heels and tangle my hair full of wisps.

--Walt Whitman, Song of Myself, 9