01/12/2014
Bernard "B-Nerd" Wilchusky
Tranformus was bittersweet; Transformus was lovely, and Transformus was sad. Some strange alchemy of altitude, rain, and those ancient, hoary woods conspired to put a pall over the weekend that I just couldn’t shake.
At the lake, as the effigy burned under a hail of arrows glowing like fireflies in the night, I saw a man I once knew. His glasses framed two eyes turned red and raw by their wealth of tears. I wanted to reach out, to console — but sometimes grief is too thick, and distances too vast, that even our best intentions are given pause. We walked on — once friends, now strangers — by the shores of a lake on a mountaintop far from home.
I remember racing through the water to walk the plank of a pirate ship, rampant with nudists, who hung from its spars and shouted vulgar exhortations at the swimmers below; I remember dancing in the rain, the warm ooze of mud creeping up my calves, as I weaved through groups and parties like some crazed shade or drunken minstrel; I remember the quiet moments caught in the parapet of a particolored castle, seemingly grasped by the hand of some giant and cast onto the mountaintop where I huddled for shelter; I remember words shared with a wayward professor as we sought solace in the shade from the attentions of a too-hot morning sun.
In the tired moments, the brief and cynical instances when fatigue and hunger had their greatest sway, I wondered why I bothered: why I tramped up a mountainside, filled with strangers, a thousand miles from home.
The question is: Why are we alive?
The answer, near as I can tell, is to love one another.