Author: Bill

Philosopher Hugh Moorhead asked some 150 writers and thinkers a simple question:

“What is the Meaning of Life?”        Not unexpectedly, the answers were quite diverse.  Edward AlbeeL  “Being aware of life, I should say.”  Stephen Cahn  “The meaning of life is invented, not discovered.” And there was some wit:  “It hasn’t yet been decreed that life has a meaning, but then it hasn’t yet  been decreed that it hasn’t!”  The sum of responses was certainly less than any kind of consensus, but there was an undercurrent:  the meaning of life lies in giving meaning to life, that is, the opportunity we have.              I thought of all this while belatedly storing the remnants of our last holiday season, a time in our culture of sharing, giving, and caring. Hence the photos above, showing Penny addressing holiday greetings, and our tree, resplendent with shared family gifts.        But Professor Moorhead’s   queries were a 20th century adventure:  would  21st responses show change?  On the one hand wed now have the scientific breadth of Stephen Hawkins  “A Brief History of Time”,  on the other,  the  also current  creationist theory put forth by  the  distinguished scientist, Francis Colliins, Director of our National Institute of Health , published as “The Language of God”  One thing seems clear, however; as with Einstein’s General Theory of Relativity, we are still dealing with theory, that is, with things  hypothetical, perhaps even visionary, by definition waiting to be proven, modified, even disproven.  A the least we can still ask:  What might, or will,  a 221st century consensus be on the meaning of life?

I once thought the perfect mix was chilled Bombay, a splash of vermouth, with olive  optional  But now, in these threescore plus ten plus years I’ve discovered a much more delightful combo: a handson adventure in a new environment followed by a distinctly handsoff small, luxury canal barge cruise.

It started with a rental found in an academic journal, summer 2010, a restored fourth floor garret on a mostly pedestrian street, the end of which offered three streetside cafes and a shot bridge to the backside and gardens of Notre Dame Cathedral, Paris, France. The latter opened its doors at 7 AM; no tourists! Although the French cafe au creme is not quite a  match for a Starbuck’s latte, the streetside, freshly baked croissons and fresh orange juice were unbeatable. And, a short trip away by metro, several magnificent Cavaille-Coll pipe organs, complete with their roaring 32 foot bombards.  Magnificent sound, the genesis of much of  Ceesar Franck’s music.

 

The second half of this French combo began a week later on a Burgandy Canal barge, six California friends, four jolly, English cree, endless gourmet and visual delights.  And a chance to wander freely into the real, rural France, witness the greeting I got from a senior lockskeeperess and her daughter while the barge, the Elizabeth, was getting tern feet taller!

But,  as with a good martini, there’s a downside to the French Combo.  As the great Budda wisely said, one delight inevitably leads to a desire for more; in this case a jaunt on the Thames,  nearby to one of those great organs the Brits adore.   Suggestions?