"Inherit the Wind"

Lawdy, Lawdy, last night, I watched Inherit the Wind, starring Jack Lemmon and George C. Scott, and it was pure cinematic genius.

It was a made-for-television (1999) dramatized version of the Scopes "Monkey Trial" of 1925—my gosh, 100 years ago—when a high school teacher (Scopes) was arrested for violating the Butler Act by teaching evolution in a public school.  

Watching Jack Lemmon and George C. Scott, those two veteran actors, go at each other had me on the edge of my seat. I was afraid one of them would burst a blood vessel.

This version used fictitious names for the real attorneys Clarence Darrow and William Jennings Bryan, who were the attorneys in the actual 1925 Scopes trial.

When I was 21, I attended the play "Inherit the Wind," performed by the Thespians of Linfield College in Oregon. The actor who played Defense Attorney Clearance Darrel should have gone on to the New York stage. I came from a Protestant background, and when the Darrell character slammed the two books, the Bible and Darwin's Origin of Species, together, stuck them under his arm, and walked off stage, I felt I had been hit by an anvil.

I went on to major in Biology in college, where evolution was considered a fact.  Hey, young Darwin was just a field researcher who went to the Galapagos Islands, observed the animals he found there, and took notes.  But when he published his findings, it stirred up a hornet's nest.

In school, if you wanted to debate the Creationists, they said to take it to the Theology department. Two professors did have a go at it, but they didn't have the skill of Lemmon or Scott.

Years later, I watched the 1960 version of the movie Inherit the Wind, starring Spencer Tracy and was unimpressed. (I still had the college play ringing in my ears and thought it couldn't be beat—until last night.)

Over the years, I didn't understand why the debate between Creationism and Evolution was such a big deal. I don't know how the Universe began or how life originated on Earth. It is an ongoing study. God is God; he doesn't need humans to defend him. Some people must think God doesn't know what a Quark is. Does He know how to smash an atom? Does He need constant admiration? Would you if you were God?

Some fundamentalists are so insulted they get blood in their eye if anyone says they came from animals. They should be so lucky. They are lucky to have life, no matter how it came about.

It's still a mystery.

This rendition of the play was apparently meant to be a parable against the McCarthy era, where beliefs were fanned to white hot intensity to believe there was a communist hiding under every rock. 

 I was encouraged last night at the end of Inherit the Wind to see that a great throng of people can champion a belief system; they can write laws to defend it. They can threaten opponents, and fight for their side. They can spread lies, propaganda, innuendos, and fear. Yet out of the morass will come an individual who will rise from the crowd and defend the right to think.

 

Inherit the Wind: 

"He who brings trouble on his house will inherit the wind, and the fool will be servant to the wise of heart."

Proverbs 11:29
 

That Was Totally Weird

A few days ago, Hubby and I watched The Last Stand, an Arnold Schwarzenegger movie that began with a narration of the landscape—do you know where I’m going with this? Well, we didn’t. 

 

The narrator described the opening scene. He described the characters as if reading the movie script. All this while we were also watching the action and hearing the dialog. There was no background music, just the narration. “She downcast her eyes,” yep, he described that action right on cue.

 

I said, “Hey, we can see that; why are you telling us?” 

 

The narrator continued. It was annoying as we could see that the bad guy had his legs wrapped around Arnold’s neck, that was until all that reading became funny.  I thought it was a schtick, a ploy of the film, for there wasn’t much dialogue. Soon, I wasn’t paying much attention to the guy reading. But he wouldn't shut up. Okay, the move ended, but the guy kept talking. 

 

He read the credits—like ALL the credits, Castle Rock Film Co. Columbia Pictures, to the extreme of describing the lady holding the torch. He read ALL the actors and their parts. I skipped through that long list but wondered where in the heck this was going. Then the narrator called his wife, got her message machine, and said he missed her and wanted her back. He ranted for awhile, the message ran out, but began another and he continued where he had left off. The message ended, but he wasn’t finished talking.

 

Another message came on with a continuation of his one-sided conversation and apologizing. I thought it was similar to a cookie at the end of a movie. Way to go Arnold, you must have chosen this script because of this device. Then the guy, who should have needed a drink of water by now, started describing the following movie, The Morgans. We turned off the TV and laughed. “That was awesome. How weird. How clever.”

 

The next day, Daughter Dear said it was a setting on our television that got clicked on somehow. It was probably for the sight-impaired--maybe it was an open mike.

 

Oh.

 

But I’m still laughing.

 

More than you wanted to know?

I completed my 27 hours of real estate Continuing Education and then another 3 of Laws, so I’m set with a Real Estate Broker license for the next 2 years. The first year only lasted from the time we took your exam until our birthday month. 

I am study and tested out.

So, if you got anything weird from me, please chalk it up to my scrambled brain. Now I have changed the name of my newsletter. It’s on Substack. It's purpose is to let people know what I am up to, and determine if they want to continue with me. Here's a glimpse if you are interested: If not, tell me a funny story.

 

 

Introduction

Hi, I'm Joyce

 

Remember The Twilight Bark?

 

On a hillside in London, Papa Pongo desperately barked for help in finding his 15 stolen puppies. The great Dane heard his cry and set in motion the twilight bark where the message passed from dog to dog until it reached a farm outside town. There, the Colonel heard "Stolen, fifteen spotted puddles," until, with the help of Sargent Tibs (a cat), and a correction in hearing, they led the charge and rescued not 15 but 101 spotted puppies. After misadventures, trickery, skill, and bravery, they defeated that despicable vicious vile old witch, Cruella DeVille. (Disney movie 101 Dalmations.)

 

Jewell was my dog. Now she is my emissary, a past love heralding in the future, to lay a bark trail, of what you can expect from me.”

 

My daughter might take offense when I say that Jewell was my dog, for we adopted Jewell to be her dog. However, when my daughter was busy in high school, Jewell and I became inseparable. You know how it is: once a dog stamps her love on your heart, it's there forever.

 

This stealing of his dog's name worked for Indiana Jones. Isn't Indiana much more fun than Henry Jones Jr. and Raiders of the Lost Ark. It doesn't have a ring to it, does it? And try to say Joyce Davis without it coming out, JoyceStavis.

 

This newsletter morphed from a blog I've written titled Wish on White Horses. However, as that blog isn't about horses—this newsletter isn't about dogs.

 

Both animals are our teachers.

  

Horses teach us not to follow someone else's path but to blaze our own. Dogs teach love.

 

More... 

 

 

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