By Wayne Allensworth William Blake illustration for the Book of Job Tyger! Tyger! burning bright In the forests of the night, What immortal hand or eye Could frame thy fearful symmetry? When the stars threw down their spears, And water’d heaven with their tears, Did he smile his work to see? Did he who made the Lamb make thee? The Tyger William Blake To the eyes of the man of imagination...
By Wayne Allensworth The picture remains embedded in my memory. An old man — my paternal grandfather — touching a name carved into a stone wall. The wall was a monument erected to honor fallen servicemen from Houston. It was early summer and hot, as sticky hot as it gets down there. It was the only time I ever saw him get emotional about the loss of his oldest son, my namesake, in a time that was...
By Wayne Allensworth What follows is an excerpt from a piece I wrote a couple of years ago that remains relevant: Our people must begin reconsidering their history. Where they came from and where we wish to go. An end to foreign adventures and to militarism should be one of our aims. That’s the best way to honor the memory of the fallen. Perhaps we should also take more time to honor another kind...
By Wayne Allensworth My carpenter father once told me that I was thinking too much. He had taken me to work with him and set out a task for me, and I was moving far too slowly to suit him. I was maybe 12 or so, so it was probably a demolition job. I was pausing, as if I was facing resistance from the wood and sheetrock that opposed me. I was eyeballing the enemy and gauging every blow. Daddy was...
By Wayne Allensworth On Easter Sunday before the service, I was sitting in church and watching the congregants come in. What I saw gave me some cause for hope. A few of the ladies wore hats — “Easter bonnets,” we called them in the past — and low and behold, a few of the children were dressed up. Dresses, ties, little jackets. It’s not that I think God cares what people wear. It’s about us...
By Wayne Allensworth A scene near the end of David Lean’s The Bridge on the River Kwai resonates with the older me. Colonel Nicholson, played by the great Alec Guiness, is walking the length of the bridge built by British soldiers in a Japanese POW camp under the colonel’s supervision. He pauses and looks out over the waters of the river and notes that he has had a good life and career, but that...
By Wayne Allensworth This piece originally appeared in Chronicles Magazine some years ago. I thought it appropriate to repost it as Holy Week begins. On Palm Sunday, I took a walk. It’s the first day of spring and the sky shows China blue, decorated with small cotton-like puffs of clouds. Flowers are blooming and the ducks at the pond have laid their eggs. The beaver are back—I can tell by the...
By Wayne Allensworth It’s difficult to imagine now, but when the Apollo 11 lunar module set down in the Sea of Tranquility all those years ago, Americans were fixed on their TV screens, awed, fascinated, and, in some cases, disoriented by the momentous conclusion of the space race. I recall gathering with neighbors around a TV and watching the somewhat grainy broadcast with the sense of adventure...
By Wayne Allensworth Rows of trees that have finally lost their leaves line a wide path that runs between fences around houses and a business park near my home. The long, wide belt of grass is a sort of unofficial nature sanctuary in an area where the suburbs have crept into the countryside. I often walk there and if I don’t avert my line of sight from the path, I can imagine I am far from the...
By Wayne Allensworth Westerns were once upon a time the most popular American film genre. And the great John Ford directed some of the best ones. Our greatest star in the Western film firmament was John Wayne, who was associated as a friend and collaborator with Ford for much of his career. Their names are inseparable in American film history. Movie buffs know the Ford-Wayne films that did so...
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