Dear Friends of the Pub Quiz,
Someone asked me recently if the number of poetry readings in Davis has outgrown the hunger for poetry among the local citizenry. My friend wondered if Davis Poet Laureate James Lee Jobe hosted too many readings.
I reminded my friend that we are all bound to read something. Even those who shackle themselves to their TV remotes, their bingeable content, their subscribed YouTube channels, will reach on occasion for the cereal box, the alumni magazine, or the fortune cookie fortune. Our phones sit obediently on our hips or in our purses, offering even the aspirationally anti-literate (like my friend) the addictive murmur of the fake news headline, the shareable tweet, or the hashtagged Instagram viral photo caption. Readers who depend upon only on this slight content, who read unwittingly, almost unwillingly, think they don’t pay a cost. One thinks of the isolated man, buried amid his own belongings, who thinks the air will last longer if he takes shallower breaths.
I say, step outside, breathe deep, and mix in a book (or at least a poem) once in a while. For me, if it is a sin to covet poetry on a Thursday night or a Sunday afternoon, then I am the most offending soul alive. I say, envy not the man who Barcalounges with his remote and the uncaring company of the televised golf announcer, whispering bogeys and birdies into his numb ear, or the football announcer (is it football season yet? I don’t even know) who pricks the adrenaline nerves of the once-muscled teeth-gritting shut-in, the angry man who hungers for he does not know what, but thinks he can feed it on any given Sunday.
I could be wrong, but I don’t think such a person would join us at the Pub Quiz or join me at a poetry reading. No, let such a man, sequestered in his quiet querulousness, rest comfortably in his home seemingly unawares, even though his dulled unconsciousness tallies with each passing missing metaphor the opportunity cost of his inactivity. For this man and for many others, this day will be immediately forgotten, breakfast itself forgotten by lunchtime, the forgone conversations missed, the walks untaken, the books unread. And SCIENCE unscreamed.
But me, I shall long remember this day, the gentle August breeze that blows us to towards E Street on Monday evenings, the bass-line of almost discernible songs heard on the Irish Pub speakers, the friends waving their greeting as they pass our regular booth, and the relations joining me – a family of five once more before Christmas – for a family and community ritual that warrants putting down our remotes and our devices and joining we few, we happy few, to laugh and compete with the best of Davis once again.
Tonight’s Pub Quiz will feature questions on topics suggested above, as well as on the following: Pashtuns, beneficiaries, Kermit the Frog, esteemed peers, soccer teams, locks of love, debut novels, mathematics, ice carvings, lakes, Spanish explorers, comedic relief on the Serengeti, cardinal directions, names that are not Giorgio or Guillermo, oil refineries, Latin initials, literary decades, bays, dystopic robot visits, populous cities on the water, positional egos, notable couples, heavenly introductions, world records, bunches and collections, Twitter trends, scoops, University of Chicago, nodelessness, famous Fords, missy, challenging suburbs, photovoltaic power, and Shakespeare.
I hope you can join us this evening (evening is almost here). We love it when you join us.
Your Quizmaster
P.S. “Lateness showed that serene contempt for the illusion we call time which is so necessary to ensure the respect of others and oneself.” Rose Macaulay , Mystery at Geneva