AN ODE TO THORNTON WILDER

Philosophers are supposed to explain why we're here, and help us know what to do about it. If true, then here's my un-schooled theory on how -- after a certain number of birthdays -- we become de facto philosophers....!

It often happens some quiet evening after you've put down the last of the bad-news papers, and turned off the last of the bad-taste television. Gradually -- like a Marley's Ghost -- you are visited by strange but epiphanic images. Like oil paintings in which all the distinct colors begin to melt into one another...like scientific formulae in which all the precise numbers start to tumble into each other....like suddenly finding yourself in a personal space shuttle peering down at the little moving specks on our little blue planet. Comprehending for the very first time how we are all very much alike. Prince and pauper, Oprah and bell ringer, Hollywood and Peoria. All living and dying in very much the same way.

Now to a Schopenhauer or a Nietzsche, such a burst of cosmic perspective is reason to mourn and grieve this insignificant planet of insignificantly identical creatures. Little room for hope, joy or God. Their readers may quickly nod in resigned agreement. Just so much evolutionary stardust settled, struggled and eventually blown away to make room for the next wave of dust...!

On the other -- and happier -- hand, if you are Thornton Wilder, this night-time cosmic viewpoint just might lead you to write such cosmic plays as "Our Town" and "By The Skin Of Our Teeth." Do these plays -- and similar ones by other gifted playwrights -- explain why we're here and what to do about it...? Well, actually, that's supposed to be the role of the philosophers and theologians.

But inasmuch as they don't often get read after college.....the theatre may be the next best venue for your next best epiphany! And thankfully, the theatre in this land of greedy Philistines is still alive and well. That's why -- right along with religion -- I spend a lot of time there....!