The circles I run in are filled with like-minded people. That should come as no surprise to anyone because, in that regard, I’m quite certain that most of us are pretty much the same. The chances are pretty high that, if you’re reading this, you fit in the circles in which I run. And, you probably spend at least a little bit of your time each day simply running in circles. If you can relate, please read on.
Since you run in the same circles as I do, you are most likely at least vaguely, and probably intimately, familiar with the 1989 television miniseries, Lonesome Dove, an adaptation of Larry McMurtry’s 1985 novel of the same name. I’ve never been a voracious reader like my wife and kids are, but I had read the novel a year or two before the television event, so I was eager to watch it when it came out. I remember reading in the newspaper a respected film critic’s evaluation of the show. He called Robert Duvall’s portrayal of the salty and witty Augustus "Gus" McCrae, in so many words, perhaps the finest performance ever in a made-for-TV production. Although the hypercritical cowboy portion of my brain finds it hard to look past things like the gray gelding that’s supposed to be a mare, I tend to agree with that assessment of Duvall’s performance and the entire production, and I believe it still holds up to this day.
There are several reasons why I like Lonesome Dove so much. First, for the most part, I felt the script remained true to the book, which lent a modicum of authenticity. Secondly, for better or worse, it glorified the Western culture and way of life, which automatically drew me to it. Thirdly, and probably the strongest pull on my consciousness, was the plethora of profound and memorable quotes served up by the script. I’ve always been a sucker for a good quote, and Augustus McCrae, in my opinion, is the king of fictional dictums. If I were ambitious enough to keep a notebook of profound and worthy quotes, I’m sure his only rival would be Winston Churchill. Gus and Sir Winston reside in the most sacred halls of my pantheon of quotable quoters.
The two main characters of the story are Gus and his longtime friend and partner, Woodrow Call. As cheerful and talkative and gregarious as Gus is, Woodrow is nearly his polar opposite – a stoic, solemn and serious man of few words. Much of the story revolves around Woodrow and his strained, if not downright failed, relationships with other characters in the story, including his own son, Newt, a young man probably in his late teens or early 20s. As a matter of fact, although Woodrow has been Newt’s principal caregiver for most of his life, he has never told Newt that he is actually his father. Gus eventually reveals the truth to Newt, and when Newt asks him why Woodrow has never mentioned it, Gus replies, “Woodrow ain’t much of a mentioner when he can avoid it.”
Lonesome Dove is not a happy story. As a matter of fact, there’s very little of the story that evokes joy. Nevertheless, I think it offers up plenty of axioms that point the way to finding joy and peace. One of the most heartbreaking scenes revolves around the death of Joshua Deets, perhaps the most impactful of all the supporting personalities in the story. Of all the characters in the tale, Deets, through his humility, work ethic and kindness, is the most winsomely relatable. He’s the kind of man you’d want your sons to become. Upon his burial on the trail, presumably somewhere in Wyoming or Montana, Woodrow Call, a man of few words, writes a simple epitaph on a crude wooden grave marker, which Gus, in turn, reads to those illiterate members of the group:
“Josh Deets. Served with me 30 years. Fought in 21 engagements with the Comanche and Kiowa. Cherful in all weathers. Never sherked a task. Splendid behavior.”
Although the speller in me may cringe at the grammar on the marker, it’s perhaps the most poignant scene in the entire production, and I defy you to hold back the tears when you go back and watch it.
In the moments following extreme emotional episodes in my life, I tend to be a ponderer, and my affinity for Lonesome Dove will quite often lead me to reflect on the messages of the story. For instance, even though I spend a good portion of my waking hours thinking of and spinning and writing yarns and telling stories, I often find myself as not much of a mentioner at precisely the times when I should be. It bothers my conscience a bit when I think back to all the things I’ve left unsaid and the times I’ve remained silent when I should have been speaking.
Maybe it was saying nothing to the grade school bully when he picked on the girl in the dirty dress and the kid who had trouble reading or my offering no comforting words to the victims of those adolescent bullies. Maybe it was when I failed to tell my daughter I was proud of her in spite of what she thought of herself. Maybe it was the hundreds of times I didn’t tell my wife or my kids that I loved them as I hurried out the door to saddle my horse. Maybe it was when I didn’t stop to just say hi to my neighbor who just lost his wife. For certain, it was too many times.
On the other hand, there are thankfully times when I’ve drawn on my inner Joshua Deets to steer my sometimes wayward soul. I need to look to that inspiration more often, so hopefully someday, there will be something mention worthy to be carved on my headstone.
