(USS Kitty Hawk (CV-63) in her last visit to Hong Kong. She is now being towed from her berth at Bremerton, WA, to Texas to be dismantled and turned into razor blades, or whatever they do with parts of these grand old ladies these days. She was a good ship.)
There was a sort of paralysis at Refuge Farm’s Fire Pit this morning. It wasn’t some sort of group writer’s block, or at least not entirely. Part of it was the chill associated with 16 degrees and a light breeze over the southern pasture. Splash kicked at an unassuming lump of white stuff next to his seating rock and it thumped without any other movement or response. What did not melt yesterday has now hardened into a landscape as adamant as cured concrete.
DeMille stood, clutching his parka close across his chest and watch cap pulled low over his brow. “You know we are staying away from anything that could be misinterpreted until Legal has a chance to review it for compliance. So don’t even start on that stuff.” he looked sternly around the shivering circle. Melissa had a neatly knitted wool blanket on her lap, mittens on, parka with hood up and gathered around her normally winsome neck with a thick scarf.
“We can be clear on that,” she said, emphasizing the word everyone on the flatscreen was using because apparently something wasn’t. “Can we use some of the daily talking points that have already been broadcast?”
“We are trying to stay wholesome here.” DeMille was stern. Loma and Rocket slumped to minimize their exposure to the breeze. “So, can we talk about something winsome and fun?” He clearly was influenced by Melissa’s scarf.
“This feels a little like old-time journalists in 1914 describing the Crown Prince’s proposed visit to Sarajevo.”
“Knock it off. We are trapped by previous conceptions. Why don’t we talk about that news from Hong Kong? That is useful for that alphabet touring book we told the Chairman we were working on.”
“You mean about Fleet Landing going away? Those were the first visits most of us had to China.”
“The official name is Fleet Arcade. Or was. They say nearly a hundred warships would pull in there every year, and the tailors did a land-office business creating suits and dress shirts for the sailors.”
“They sold beer at the McDonalds restaurant at the Landing. It was the only one in Hong Kong that did so. And the China Fleet Club.”
There was some collective shaking of heads. “And now, Fenwick Pier is surrounded by land, not water from the harbor since they did the new expansion project. Every vendor has to be out of the Fleet Arcade the morning after Chinese new year. That part of history is almost done.”
“You sound a little like Zhou en Lai answering that question about the impact of the French Revolution. He said it was “Too early to say.”
“That is like the Chinese curse about living in interesting times. It doesn’t actually exist in the Chinese language, but it is useful in buttressing China’s reputation as a far-thinking, patient civilization.”
“What Zhou was actually referring to was the 1968 street protests in Paris, not the storming of the Bastille two hundred years ago. Bad translation, but it fit with something else, so there it is. ‘Too soon to tell’ actually works pretty well for just about everything.”
Rocket was content with that summation and took a deep sip of Black Rifle coffee and tugged his jacket closer against the chill. “And I think maybe we ought to have the production meetings inside until Spring.”
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Loma started a longer tale about managing to parlay a Congressional trip to North Korea via Beijing into a stay at Hong Kong’s Peninsula Hotel justified against travel regulations “for necessary consultations.”
Most of us had at least seen the lobby of that grand place while wandering around the city after getting on the Star Ferry to head for Kowloon and the raucous fun at Ned Kelly’s Last Stand Bar. But none of us could handle the chill of this frigid Piedmont morning much longer. DeMille had been keeping notes. He remained standing and read them aloud to signify the end of the Production Meeting:
“Go inside. Remember some stories about visiting the Crown Colony. Worry about what is going to happen to Ukraine and whether China will do something in their own interest at a time of perceived lack of resolution in the international order. Consider a world in which the old scheme of things doesn’t appear particularly relevant, except that it Rhymes.”
Splash got up, but he was the only one not laughing. “Mark Twain didn’t actually say that. And besides, it doesn’t.”
We did agree on one major point. It actually was warmer back in the Bunkroom.
Copyright 2022 Vic Socotra
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