Rudyard Kipling's "Mandalay"

I have been spending time enjoying all of Andrew Sullivan's remembrances of his friend Christopher Hitchens these last couple of days. It's funny how you find something else to be curious about, say, Stephen Fry and his wondrous performance as Mycroft Holmes, Sherlock's brother, in the new Robert Downey, Jr.-Jude Law Sherlock Holmes movie. He was so wonderful and I knew I'd seen him before, but I just couldn't place him, so I came home and looked him up on the internet. He's best friends with Hugh Laurie, and a right Renaissance man. Author, playwright, actor, comedian, director, journalist, and well-known for a debate held in 2009 titled 'Intelligence Squared', where he and Christopher Hitchens paired off together against their opponents Ann Widdecombe and Archbishop John Onaiyekan in a discussion of the Catholic Church. Hichens the renowned atheist and Fry the humanist versus two well-known Catholics. That must have been something to see.

One of today's reminiscences is of Hitchens' love of poetry:
http://andrewsullivan.thedailybeast.com/2011/12/a-poe.html

The key paragraph quoting Hitchens:

Yet very often, late at night, when I am not tired enough for sleep but too tired to carry on with absorbing or apprehending anything "serious" or new, I will walk over to the appropriate shelf and pull out the tried and the true: the ones that never fail me. And then I will always stay up even later than I had intended. And sometimes, in the morning, I really can "do" the whole of "Spain 1937" or "The Road to Mandalay," and can appreciate that writing is not just done by hand.

Mandalay by Rudyard Kipling

By the old Moulmein Pagoda, lookin' eastward to the sea,
There's a Burma girl a-settin', and I know she thinks o' me;
For the wind is in the palm-trees, and the temple-bells they say:
"Come you back, you British soldier; come you back to Mandalay!"

Come you back to Mandalay,
Where the old Flotilla lay:
Can't you 'ear their paddles chunkin' from Rangoon to Mandalay?
On the road to Mandalay,
Where the flyin'-fishes play,
An' the dawn comes up like thunder outer China 'crost the Bay!


'Er petticoat was yaller an' 'er little cap was green,
An' 'er name was Supi-yaw-lat -- jes' the same as Theebaw's Queen,
An' I seed her first a-smokin' of a whackin' white cheroot,
An' a-wastin' Christian kisses on an 'eathen idol's foot:

Bloomin' idol made o'mud --
Wot they called the Great Gawd Budd --
Plucky lot she cared for idols when I kissed 'er where she stud!
On the road to Mandalay . . .


When the mist was on the rice-fields an' the sun was droppin' slow,
She'd git 'er little banjo an' she'd sing "Kulla-lo-lo!"
With 'er arm upon my shoulder an' 'er cheek agin' my cheek
We useter watch the steamers an' the hathis pilin' teak.

Elephints a-pilin' teak
In the sludgy, squdgy creek,
Where the silence 'ung that 'eavy you was 'arf afraid to speak!
On the road to Mandalay . . .


But that's all shove be'ind me -- long ago an' fur away,
An' there ain't no 'busses runnin' from the Bank to Mandalay;
An' I'm learnin' 'ere in London what the ten-year soldier tells:
"If you've 'eard the East a-callin', you won't never 'eed naught else."

No! you won't 'eed nothin' else
But them spicy garlic smells,
An' the sunshine an' the palm-trees an' the tinkly temple-bells;
On the road to Mandalay . . .


I am sick o' wastin' leather on these gritty pavin'-stones,
An' the blasted Henglish drizzle wakes the fever in my bones;
Tho' I walks with fifty 'ousemaids outer Chelsea to the Strand,
An' they talks a lot o' lovin', but wot do they understand?

Beefy face an' grubby 'and --
Law! wot do they understand?
I've a neater, sweeter maiden in a cleaner, greener land!
On the road to Mandalay . . .


Ship me somewheres east of Suez, where the best is like the worst,
Where there aren't no Ten Commandments an' a man can raise a thirst;
For the temple-bells are callin', an' it's there that I would be --
By the old Moulmein Pagoda, looking lazy at the sea;

On the road to Mandalay,
Where the old Flotilla lay,
With our sick beneath the awnings when we went to Mandalay!
On the road to Mandalay,
Where the flyin'-fishes play,
An' the dawn comes up like thunder outer China 'crost the Bay!

I feel so fortunate to have been exposed to this poem. It's bittersweet that it is because of the loss of such an amazing man of letters that I got my chance. Obviously, I know Rudyard Kipling, but there was nothing before what I read today on Andrew Sullivan's blog that would have spurred me to read this. It's wonderful, lovely and sweet and to read it feels like singing a song, and even if you can't sing, or think that you have no voice, you will hear yourself singing when you try this one. I did.

Christopher Hitchens, Andrew Sullivan and Friendship

Christopher Hitchens died today. Needless to say, for those of you who know Hitchens' writings - and know me - we did not have the same beliefs on a lot of things. His profoundly proud and passionately defended writings on atheism are what drew me to him. But I have learned more about him in the occasional mention at Andrew Sullivan's The Dish, where I am a devoted reader, and with whom I also have disagreements. That these two men, so different in so many ways, could nurture a friendship of truth and honor and admiration of one another is a beautiful thing. That our world as a whole, and certainly our politics here in the United States could learn so much from what these men forged, would be a wonder should it ever happen. It seems a miserable far away concept right now in this season of presidential campaign posturing.

We make note of a person's worth at their death. I wish we could all be more aware of the greatness of people and their value to each of us individually and to mankind as a whole during their lives. I am as guilty as anyone in doing this, though I feel so lucky to have had Andrew Sullivan guiding us through these last weeks of Christopher Hitchens life. He might not feel that he was doing this at all; his blog is nothing if not an at different times witty, deeply moving, oft times muddled, more times brilliant but always honest stream of consciousness. His sad, soulful postings lately, and especially today, about his friend have been such a wonderful testament to the man who was Christopher Hitchens.

Andrew posted this quote today about friendship:

"In a friend one should have one's best enemy. You should be closest to him with your heart when you resist him."

"Your compassion should be a guess--to know first whether your friend wants compassion. Perhaps what he loves in you is the unbroken eye and the glance of eternity. Compassion for the friend should conceal itself under a hard shell, and you should break a tooth on it. That way it will have delicacy and sweetness,"

-Friedrich Nietzsche.

I think this is so true. I think that if you cannot be honest and disagreeable with your friends, then you really do not understand what friendship means. Witnessing a beautiful friendship is an amazing thing. Having one is something nearly impossible to put into words, though I suspect Nietzsche and Sullivan have come right close to expressing it nearly perfectly in days past and today.

Rest in peace, Christopher Hitchens.

And go here to read an obituary. Fascinating to the end.

http://www.nytimes.com/2011/12/16/arts/christopher-hitchens-is-dead-at-62-obituary.html?_r=1

Once Again...I Stand With Andrew

I cannot say it better, so I will let Andrew Sullivan speak for me:

Tea For Two
A reader writes:

I attended my 1st tea party in Worcester, Massachusetts 4 months ago. I am a conservative independent and went because I see this country going in the wrong direction FAST. Bailing out car companies. Bailing out Wall Street. The so called "stimulus" debacle. Tripling our deficit in 3 years.

Do you think I was a big George Bush fan? No. I was not. He was a big spender too and he never vetoed anything. But Andrew....comparing the spending of Bush compared to Obama is like saying eating a jelly bean is just as fattening as eating a whole cheesecake. TRIPLING the deficit in 8 months??? Earth to Mars.....do you even get this??

Andrew responds:

Look: the only reason the deficit has tripled in eight months is the recession, which Obama inherited. And I know of no serious person who really believes the federal government should have sat back and let the US economy spiral into the abyss rather than try to stabilize it with a bank bailout and stimulus. To blame Obama for what amounts to inheriting an emergency bequeathed him by his predecessor is plain loopy. And to blame him for future deficits which were a function of all those who came before him, is equally misleading and disingenuous. Yes, blame him for deficit spending once the economy recovers. Yes, perpare a plan for real government downsizing when and if we emerge from the Bush fiscal wreckage. But give the president a fricking break.

The circumstances of this past year have been extraordinary. If the position of the right is going to be: no bailouts at all, no stimulus at all, and spending cuts now to balance the budget, then they should say so. Instead we get this adolescent hysteria, combined with no serious alternative set of proposals.

Really, my fellow small government independents: Grow up.

http://andrewsullivan.theatlantic.com/the_daily_dish/2009/09/tea-for-two.html#more

My Favorite Blogger Gets a Big Shout-out

As most of you are aware, I just love Andrew Sullivan. His blog, The Daily Dish, is being covered by colleagues while Andrew is on special assignment last week and this week, but the fellas at The Dish linked to this great commentary on Andrew and his coverage of the Iranian elections and the continuing revolution. Here is the beginning of the commentary, followed by the url for the rest. And remember, you can always go check out Andrew from my link here, just over on the right.

THE WEEK.COM
The future belongs to Andrew Sullivan
Andrew Sullivan's coverage of the unrest in Iran was the blogosphere's moonshot, a feat of grit and daring heralding a new era in cyberspace. It was also a preview of journalism's future. Or seemed to be.
I couldn't help but notice that Andrew Sullivan wasn't blogging this past week. I noticed it in the same way one might notice a large sinkhole in the front of the house - something big and important was missing, and in its place was a void. Having been neither a particular fan nor detractor of Sullivan's long-ago tenure as editor of The New Republic, I'm a little surprised by how deeply I admire and rely upon his blog, the success of which seems at once a harbinger of a bright future for journalism and a sign of just how tenuous that future could be.

Read the rest of this commentary here: http://www.theweek.com/article/index/98673/The_future_belongs_to_Andrew_Sullivan