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| Halley's Comet, 1910; photo Wikimedia Commons. |
By Van Brown
“I
came in with Halley’s Comet in 1835. It is coming again next year (1910), and I
expect to go out with it. It will be the greatest disappointment of my life if I
don’t go out with Halley’s Comet. The Almighty has said, no doubt: ‘Now here
are these two unaccountable freaks; they came in together, they must go out together.’”
- Mark Twain
I’m not
in awe of Mark Twain as a prognosticator. It’s easy to predict the storm when you
can see the clouds rolling in. And you can set your clock by a train if you already
see it coming into the station. Sam Clemens knew his health was failing, and that
time was running out.
At the
advice of his doctor, he’d cut back to ten cigars a day. These must’ve been much
smaller and milder cigars than the ones I’m using to orchestrate my suicide. If
I tried to smoke ten a day, I wouldn’t be able to talk by the end of a week.
My wife
might see some benefit in that, but it would surely stink up the whole
neighborhood. Besides, I’m in no great hurry to attain progress in the matter of
killing myself. I’m sure the rate is slower than some friends might have predicted,
and certainly slower than some enemies might have hoped for, but so be it. As it
is, ten cigars might last me a couple of months or longer, as long as February is
one of them.
Twain’s
comet was predictable, but mine so far has not been. I was born with the Eclipse
Comet of 1948 (its proper name for tax purposes being C/1948 V1). It’s hard for
me to set my habits to a comet that is so wishy-washy, refuses to be pinned down
to an agenda, and considers uncertainty to be a moral principle. I might as well
speculate in the commodities market.
It just
kind of showed up about the same time I did. I have not been able to find any schedule
for its return, and there is no promise that seats will be available for
purchase this far in advance. (I hope it’s far in advance, but for all I know for
sure, it could be just around the corner.) Some think the comet has an orbit pattern
of about eighty four thousand, eight hundred years. If that is so, it’s possible
that my calendar could run out first. I’d certainly not try to amortize it, or buy
an annuity on such terms. I’ll leave such idiotic financial arrangements to The
United States Congress.
One distinguishing
feature of a comet is the tail. Such a thing as that does not set either me or Mr.
Twain apart from the rest of humanity. What might set us apart instead would be
the tales. Without trying to compare them by quality, we’ve both been known to come
up with them; his being different from mine, and mine different from his, and together
not to be confused with anybody else’s, especially textbook authors.
What do
people remember about Mark Twain? For one thing, they remember the stories he
told. One that has stuck with me for a long time was about a boy faced with a conflict
about doing the right thing. The written rule was for Huck Finn to turn Jim in
for being a runaway slave. But as Huckleberry came to terms with Jim’s humanity
same as his own, he found his salvation, even though he was certain he’d have to
go to Hell for it. Where do we ever such integrity as that even among our bravest
adults?
For half
a century I’ve thought about that tale, and I could never separate it from Mark
Twain himself. So, it’s often the story that brands you, be it sad, funny, or frightful.
What story
brands any of us? What story brands you? It isn’t always the easiest thing to know
which story is the best one to tell. But after years of looking at the evidence
left by hundreds of wonderful writers, I think the best story is the one that nobody
but you could’ve told.
That isn’t
always the case with a song. Sometimes it will be sung better by someone other than
the composer. At other times, the ballad carries better in the arms of the one who
knows the tale best. And that is true with a lot of our stories. In many cases,
if they are to be told at all, we have to tell them. In spite of that, it sometimes
amazes me how many folks wait their whole lives hoping someone else will tell their
story for them.
There
is nothing wrong with wanting others to tell your story. To get them to want to
do that, your story will have to connect with them in some way. But it will have
no chance unless you tell it to them, or show it to them. If you don’t think you
can put it into words, then put it into actions.
How does
your story treat the folks who hear it; see it, or are otherwise affected by it?
Do they laugh or cry? In what way are they to carry your story with them? What will
make it last? The poet Maya Angelou is credited with saying:
“I’ve learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget
what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.”
If that’s
the case, perhaps best way to tell your story might be just to live it. If you decide
to tell it in words, be sincere about it. If you don’t, the only thing folks will
remember will be the insincerity. A moving star with a tail on it might get their
attention, but unless it makes them feel one way or another, they just might not
remember it at all.
Van Brown has been an actor, director and public speaker in various roles on stage, radio and television. His notable performances as Mark Twain continue to surprise audiences with unique satire, irony and wit. He lives in the Metro Atlanta area with his wife. They have three grown sons and three grandchildren.
His blog, Van Brown's Journal, is by turns provocative, informative and edifying, and always fun to read.
Van also portrays Mark Twain on stage and in various events. Find out more at Mark Twain Returns.
