Commonplace Thoughts of a Residual Welshman: Blaunch Reception

If blog is a foreshortened form of “weblog,” shouldn’t a book launch be called a “blaunch” (uniquely apt for The Curious Autobiography of Elaine Jakes, as Elaine’s dear mother was named Blanche)? For the purposes of this mini-blog, I would like to adopt the quasi-honorific terminology, as I offer a brief sequel to the book launch itself. Monday’s blaunch culminated with a dinner at Villa Vito’s, while Tuesday’s reception, held at the Inn at Phillips Mill inn at phillips millculminated, fittingly enough, with a sumptuous dinner at the Inn at Phillips Mill, as a guest of the owners, Brooks and Joyce Kaufmann.

The reception itself was an honor for me to attend, and allowed me a chance to sign a few more books and offer to my august group of attendees a few Curious Autobiography pens and t-shirts.Tshirt Indeed, the guests themselves made the gathering special, where we met up with, among others, Sue, who helped me organize, Robert, Jeannie, Becky, Marcy, Kevin, Henry, Janet, Ursula, John, Brooks, Joyce, Marion, and Fred, and, in spirit, Elaine. Marion prepared a lovely photographic tableau, a visual reminder of days bygone, days of significance to all who happened to know Elaine.

But some of those in attendance did not know her. If they had met her, at best they barely remembered. But they were there in part to share a few moments of fellowship and merriment. But perhaps that is not the only reason they or any of us were there. We were there to aver, whether implicitly or explicitly, silently or articulately, that Elaine’s life had meaning, and that, beyond this perhaps less than obvious fact, our own lives have meaning, too. Thus, that small convergence of souls, by the mere incidence of its convergence, asserted that all life has real meaning, because there is, amidst the apparent disorder and chaos of our frazzled existence some kind of cosmic significance to life, certainly unseen and discernable only through the eyes of the soul. Such significance, or the author of it, gives every memory meaning, every intention potential, and makes every action worthy of bothering to do.

But I wax philosophic. To return to the delightful reception, Inn dining-terraceI should say that I have attended very few gatherings so charming and delightful, made so by the wonderful aforementioned group of attendees. We told and read stories and in passing reflected, without going overboard, on the quasi-philosophical values espoused above. The dinner was equally delightful, and at it we read one additional short excerpt from The Curious Autobiography, to which we added a story, not found in the book. That story will be the subject of my next blog. It is the Ghost of the Inn at Phillips Mill, as true a ghost story as you shall ever read. But that next time. Until then, thanks for following these two blog updates and pondering with me the verbal, ethical, and likely superfluous implications of a world like blaunch!

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