Back when I was young, I read a book about reincarnation and was captivated by the concept. I immediately decided to come back as Errol Flynn because he had certain proclivities that seemed interesting at the time. But later maturity kicked in and now I've changed my mind. I want to come back as Rodney Phillips. I'll tell you why in a minute.
In 1946 Rodney was born in North Dakota but quickly joined his parents on the Oregon Trail as they followed the Columbia River down to the Pacific Ocean at Astoria, Oregon. He grew up there gaining a lifelong aversion to oysters and salmon, which his parents' friends and neighbors over-supplied the Phillip's kitchen. Rodney went from Astoria High School to the University of Oregon, where he graduated in 1969.
Now here's why I want his life: after the U. of O. he did not start selling used Buicks with suspect transmissions. He did not start harassing relatives, friends, and people on the street to buy life insurance policies from his potential new employer, Mutual of Omaha. What he did do was pursue a degree in library science that led him to employment with the New York Public Library where, over the years, he moved from section to section of that massive archival warehouse of 20 million collected books, manuscripts, and other documents. Rodney Phillips went to that iconic building guarded by two enormous lions where every day of his working life he was immersed in the accumulated knowledge of all the human beings who have ever populated this planet. From the rendering of some knuckle-dragger's cave art to the latest in scientific and artistic endeavors, how do you find a more compelling venue in which to devote your life to curating the wisdom of the ages?
Rodney has written and published elegant volumes of beautifully designed books. Some contain his own poetry. One has an eye-catching title he pulled from William Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream: Exit Moonshine Enter Wall. Others include The Hand of the Poet and A Secret Location of the Lower Eastside.
I didn't mention that he has a commanding "radio" voice of deep timbre that is pleasing to the ear. He could start a second career recording audio books from his penthouse apartment on the fifth floor. I have a proposal: On the 4th of July, 2022, the residents of Russellville Park must gather around and listen to Rodney read Lincoln's Gettysburg Address. I know the Civil War has nothing to do with the founding of our nation but none of the founding fathers wrote with the profound passion of Father Abraham. And for patriotic discourse, nothing tops his speech at Gettysburg. Rodney's voice is already in my ears. Listen to him: ...Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. Cue the fife and drums corps.
