Wright, Will

Fall of Brother Moon

Will Wright

Featured Story: January, 2012

Lie back, Granddaughter, and I’ll tell you a story before you sleep.

There was a time long ago when the Earth was much different than it is today. It was before the time of the wolf, eagle or bear. There were no seas or mountains. The Earth was flat and the rivers wandered across the land. The first born walked the Earth. Some among them stood as tall as the lodge pine. When they walked, the Earth shook.

The Earth still remembers. You can ask her if you like.

All things worked for these, the first born. The floods came in the spring each year. Tall grasses grew and became feed for the herd beasts. The herd beasts brought many young and covered the fields. These herd beasts were food for the tearing beasts but because the Earth was so fruitful the herds did not decrease.

Above the Earth were two watchers that guarded and kept the balance for Earth and its first born: Brother and Sister Moon.

Brother and Sister Moon helped the Earth to spin. They drew the Sun’s light by day and gave it back for the night wanderers. They locked the Earth’s waters in cisterns and moved the fresh surface water gently about so that rivers ran with life.

There was music in the passing of the night as Brother would sing to Sister the songs of the stars and Sister would play for Brother the tunes from the winds. Even the tearing beasts paused from their feeding to hear the music. They knew, as did all creatures, that the music of Brother and Sister Moon was the music of life.

But, the white snake did not love Brother and Sister Moon. His prey could see him approach in the moonlight and escape. Their music was not life to him. Instead, it was a reminder of his empty belly. Though he cursed the Moons, the power of his curse was feeble, for all other creatures blessed Brother and Sister Moon. Brother and Sister Moon prospered and were happy.

The white snake knew that the world was formed for the first born and not for him. His spirit did not have the power to change that.

So he used guile.

One night, Brother Moon was singing the song of a new star. The star was not really new. It was very far away and its birthing song had traveled long to reach him. The song of birth burst from Brother Moon, a song both eternal and new.

The snake spoke to Brother Moon.

“Why should this new star be so much greater than you?”

Brother Moon laughed. “I would not think to hear such a question from you, White Snake. You hide in your hole in the Earth. Why should you care about the greatness of those so far above you?”

It was not polite for Brother Moon to belittle the white snake so. Brother Moon knew he was being rude, but he did not like the snake.

“From my hole in the ground,” said the white snake, “I hear your songs each night and listen as your sister plays the winds. You may think you are great to make the music of life, but I do not agree.”

“And why is that, little crawler?”

“Because, Brother Moon, the music is not your own.”

Brother Moon pondered these words. The white snake was hateful to him, but he wondered if the words might be true. Brother Moon did not send his own light to the Earth; he only reflected the light of the Sun. The waters he stirred were not his waters, but the Earth’s. The songs he sang to Sister Moon were not his own songs, but were what he heard from stars so far away.

He had looked down on the white snake as a weak creature that hid in holes in the ground. Compared to the first born that stood as tall as the lodge pine, the white snake was little indeed.

But, was Brother Moon not little compared to the Sun, the stars and the Earth?

Brother Moon stopped his singing.

“My brother,” said Sister Moon, “the west wind blows across the plain. I send it through the trees and across the waters. Will you not sing your song?”

“I have no song,” said Brother Moon. “That music is the glory of others and not my own. I am small and weak like the white snake. I am too ashamed to sing.”

“You are not small,” Sister Moon replied. “Though the Sun and stars and even the Earth stand greater, that does not make us less. We must serve our purpose. The Earth creatures wait for us to stir their waters and to sing life to them.”

“They can get their life from the Sun,” said Brother Moon. “It has far more to give than I.”

No matter what Sister Moon said, Brother Moon would not sing. Without the songs of Brother and Sister Moon, the water grew stale upon the surface. There was drought in one place and flood in another. Grasses failed and feed fell short for the herd beasts. The tearing beasts searched for prey, but found none.

The white snake was not satisfied. He spoke to Brother Moon.

“You think withholding your song hides your shame? You are still small. The light you shine does not compare to the Sun. If you shone in the day the Earth would not notice your light.”

Brother Moon considered the snake’s words. His borrowed light was weak. It could not compare to the light of the Sun.

Brother Moon wrapped himself in darkness.

“My brother,” said Sister Moon. “The Earth is in darkness. It is your phase to shine. Will you not shine your light?”

“I will not shine,” said Brother Moon. “It is a weak light and a humiliation to me. I have darkened my surface and I will hide here.”

So the Earth’s night was very dark. Beasts could not find their nests and lairs leaving their young hungry, unprotected and comfortless. There was chaos across the Earth and much sorrow.

Though his surface was dark, the Sun’s light still shone on Brother Moon. He stored the light and grew hot.

The white snake hunted and grew fat in the darkness, but still, he was not satisfied. He spoke again to Brother Moon.

“Brother Moon,” he said. “You stand so far away from the Earth to keep the waters in their cisterns. The Earth creatures see you as small. The Sun, though much farther away than you, looks as great in the sky.”

Brother Moon brooded about the White Snake’s words. “I am too small,” he thought. “I will approach the Earth and appear larger so that the creatures of the Earth will not suspect my weakness.”

Brother Moon drew closer to the Earth.

“My brother,” said Sister Moon. “You stand too close to the Earth. You draw the Earth waters and the heat you have gathered by withholding your light, warms the lands of ice. You must move back with me.”

“No,” said Brother Moon. “I am through with my shame. I am small, but to those upon the Earth, I will appear great. Now with my heat, I can burn like a star. I’ll make the night so bright, the Sun’s light will appear weak before me.”

And filled with heat, Brother Moon began to burn. The sky was full of fire. The white snake hid in his hole and the tortoise in his shell. The crocodile hid beneath the waters and the lizard beneath the rock. But the first born perished for they were too big to find hiding places from the fire.

Seeing that he was now a star to the Earth, Brother Moon came closer and closer. The embrace between Earth and Moon became so great that...

Brother Moon fell.

As he fell, he burned brighter still. “Now, I am the brightest star of all,” he thought.

He crashed into the Earth.

Brother Moon fell so deep within the Earth that he ceased to be himself and was lost. The Earth’s cisterns burst and the lands of ice melted. Water poured across the Earth. Land separated from land, drifting apart and crashing together again. Mountains stood where herd beasts once grazed. The fire of Brother Moon drove deep within the Earth. Fountains of burning rock rose in a circle marking his grave. Waters, now free, covered Brother Moon.

The Earth, in its turmoil saw calamity birth calamity. The waves of heat that scorched the land sent billows of smoke that blocked the Sun. The surface of the land cooled and mountains of ice moved across the Earth crushing everything in their paths.

Sister Moon, in her grief, did not play the winds. She did not reflect the Sun. She did not direct the Earth’s waters.

She wept.

She wept for an age and half an age upon the grave of her Brother. The waters that covered Brother Moon became filled with salt from her tears.

The tortoise, though small among the creatures, was the wisest. He spoke to Sister Moon.

“Sister Moon,” he said. “The Earth needs you to play the winds and to move away this smoke. The Earth needs you to stir the waters and to make them fit for life. The Earth needs you to move in your dance to balance the land and the seas.”

“I am small,” said Sister Moon, “I am not the Sun or a star or the Earth to do such things as you say. Leave me. The first born are gone. I cannot bring them back.”

“You are Sister Moon,” said the tortoise. “Though the first born will not return, new life will come to the Earth. It is your purpose to do that which you were created to do. You are neither greater nor less than you need to be.”

“I grieve,” said Sister Moon. “I watched my brother fall from the sky. He lies beneath a sea of my tears.”

“You are right to grieve,” said the tortoise. “Your pain is great. Still, you are needed.”

There was nothing in Sister Moon’s heart that wished to shine. There was no desire to bring life from the waters. There was no song for her to play on the winds.

But she was needed.

And so, Sister Moon danced to balance the Earth. The ice found its place to settle. She played the winds and moved the smoke away. She stirred the waters. New life joined with the tortoise, snake, crocodile and lizard. There were no creatures as tall as the lodge pine, but there were many new beings. Each living thing was suited to mountain, or desert, or valley.

The Sun’s rays warmed the day and Sister Moon’s gentle light helped the creatures find their nests and lairs at night.

Still, one day each month, Sister Moon mourns her brother. The sky remains dark. You can hear her sighing in the West wind.

So, my granddaughter, sleep has come for you and I speak for your dreams to remember long after I am gone. Remember that you are as you are for a purpose. Never let the jealous and bitter make you ashamed or feel small. The Earth needs you. Though times of mourning will come, do not fear to sing your song. Join with Sister Moon and all creatures in the music of life.

Will Wright's Top Ten TV Theme Songs

Most of my friends had impressive vinyl collections when I was growing up. I didn’t purchase a single album until I was seventeen. I didn’t consider myself musically ignorant; after all, I watched plenty of television, and TV (particularly in the sixties and seventies) gave us many memorable theme songs.

Here’s my top ten:

10. The Monkees Theme by Tommy Boyce and Bobby Hart. Like many theme songs, The Monkees Theme was catchy. I chose it over other catchy themes like The Ballad of Jed Clampett, or The Addams Family Theme, because you knew that in each episode of The Monkees, you would get a short music video at the end.

9. Star Trek by Alexander Courage. Star Trek debuted when I was eight. The theme fit the show. It was exiting, adventurous, and a little bit scary (by eight-year-old standards.) It almost made those silly William Shatner monologues worthwhile.

8. Suicide Is Painless(MASH) by Johnny Mandel (lyrics, which were not part of the TV show, were by Mike Altman, Robert Altman’s fourteen-year-old son.) Leaving out the lyrics was probably a good idea.

7. Love Is All Around(Mary Tyler Moore Show) by Paul Williams, recorded by Sonny Curtis. Yes, it was sentimental, and I never would have admitted liking it when I was thirteen, but if you watched the corner of my eye carefully, you might have seen the beginnings (just the beginnings!) of a tear, when Mary threw her hat in the air.

6. Where Everybody Knows Your Name(Cheers) by Gary Portnoy, and Judy Hart. Some songs have a way of transporting you. This song took you to a comfortable place. It had a lot to do with the success of the show.

5. Mission Impossible Theme by Lalo Schifrin. Even if you were just getting up to use the bathroom, you moved differently – smoothly, and with confidence, after hearing this theme. It made you feel like you could do anything.

4. Hawaii Five-O Theme by Morton Stevens. It had a similar effect as did the Mission Impossible theme. I never liked the show, but I waited for that final chord before I changed the station.

3. Raw Hide by Dimitri Tiomkin and Ned Washington. Who cares that the lyrics were repetitive – what a ride!

2. Secret Agent Man(Secret Agent) by Steve Barri and P. F. Sloan, performed by Johnny Rivers. I know Patrick McGoohan starred in the show, but I don’t remember anything else about the show – but I sure remember the song!

1. The Theme from Peter Gunn by Henry Mancini. The show was a little before my time, but the theme was all around me growing up. I wasn’t the only teenager who drove a little too fast and took the corners a little too sharp, as Mancini’s pulsing beat pushed adrenaline from adolescent glands, up to my brain, and then down to the accelerator.

Minerva

Will Wright

(Dec. 2011)

Minerva’s belly was full. She wasn’t a kit any longer. She had to hunt for herself. It was good to feel satisfied.

Her den was far away, and she was sleepy. The night was cold and windy. Foxes have thick fur, but she wanted to find a warm place to sleep.

She found a small den. She sniffed at the opening. There was a badger inside. A badger will not share a den with a fox.

Two coyotes were in the dry creek bed. They were curled together. They looked warm. She missed her kit mates. It was warmer sleeping together.

A rabbit hopped by. The rabbit saw Minerva and hopped faster. Minerva wasn’t hungry; she was cold. She let the rabbit go.

There was a clearing. It wasn’t like she remembered. The trees were gone. Now there were only stumps.

Minerva spied the trees. They were all lying down in a pile on something tall and hard. The thing smelled strange. It looked dangerous.

The trees looked warm in that tight pile. She would be comfortable if she burrowed into the trees. Her den was far away. She could be cozy right here.

She jumped up on the tall thing, and burrowed into the trees. She was warm. She fell asleep.

After a while, Minerva woke up. Something was wrong. The trees were shaking. There were strange sounds coming from the tall thing. It smelled like fire!

She climbed to the top of the pile of trees. It was difficult. Everything was shaking. The wind was blowing. It didn’t feel like any wind she’d felt before.

The pile was moving. It was going very fast and taking her with it. How could a pile of trees run faster than a fox? The tall thing must be a beast—a beast that smelled of fire.

Other beasts like the one that held the trees moved around the pile. The near ones ran with the pile, like wolves run in a pack. The far ones ran past them, going the other way.

They were loud and smelled like fire. Each one had large eyes that spread light like the moon in front. They had smaller red eyes in back.

Minerva wanted to jump. She wanted to run away. She wanted to find her den. She was frightened.

The pile of trees ran too fast. She couldn’t jump. She burrowed back in the pile. What else could she do?

She didn’t like the noise. She didn’t like the rumbling. She didn’t like the smell of fire. But, she was warm in the pile. She went to sleep.

Minerva woke up. The pile had stopped running. She climbed to the top of the trees. The running beasts were still near. Their eyes were open but the moonlight wasn’t shining out.

The stars were very close. They hung from trees and steep hillsides all around her. Most of the stars were white. Some were red or green or blue.

“Merry Christmas,” an animal barked. She had seen one of these animals before. It was a human. They were dangerous to foxes.

Minerva jumped from the pile. “Look, a fox,” barked another human. “Call animal services.”

Minerva ran. The hills were tall and in every direction. They were too steep to climb. Narrow valleys ran between the hills.

Everywhere she went, Minerva saw more steep hills. Humans were everywhere. So were the running beasts, some with moon lights shining, but most without.

There were trees. Trees only grew in the valleys. Each tree was by itself, far from other trees.

There were animals too. There were squirrels and birds. There were animals that reminded her of coyotes, but they were different.

There were cats. There were almost as many cats as humans. The cats didn’t like her but they left her alone.

“There it is,” a human barked. Minerva heard a bang. There was a tooth in her side. She ran in a circle to see her attacker but couldn’t find one. She fell asleep.

Minerva awakened. She was in the clearing. There were stumps all around. A human was nearby.

“Merry Christmas, little vixen,” barked the human. He walked away to a running beast. The beast made a roar. Moonlight shone from its eyes.

She was in the woods again. There were no more tall hillsides and narrow valleys. The trees grew in clumps.

Above her, the stars were far away. Only one was a little red. There were no cats. The running beast went away.

Now she knew the human greeting bark. It was, “Merry Christmas.” They didn’t harm her, but she didn’t want to see them again.

Minerva started walking. She was walking back to her den. She decided it wasn’t so far away after all.