Tag: Robert Redford

When The World Was So New And All

Richard Barnes

There are days which are achingly crisp and clear. 

They are not restricted to a specific part of the earth. We’ve seen them “everywhere”. They are, however, restricted to certain days wherein precise weather conditions and time of day and season of the year on occasion cooperate in such a wonderful way as to gift us so marvelously. I am told that, in addition to outside factors, one’s own state of mind also contributes to how such days are beheld.

Invariably such moments remind me how new the world seems when we look back. And one is tempted to think that all was crisp and clear when one was a child. We know better, of course — or at least we ought to know better. However, if your childhood was blessed with a decent home — whether rich or poor or in between — you certainly should be grateful.

I recall visiting the El Morro fort in San Juan, Puerto Rico one late afternoon in 1978. It was one of those aforementioned, astonishingly clear days, about two hours or so before sunset. The beauty of the day was not due only to my personal inward peace; a television crew, which I later learned was from an advertising agency, was filming a lady on a horse. It must have been a shampoo commercial as her almost-waist-long hair reflected the sun’s rays as she rode her horse, with trees and fort and sparkling ocean in the background. Clearly the advertising agency knew this was a “perfect day” to shoot such a commercial in that spot.

(Lamentably, the trees are gone; my understanding is that they were removed in the early 90s to make the fort look “exactly” as it did in the 16th Century when it was built.)

But one need not be in an exotic location to enjoy such days. I’ve seen them as I worked on the property outside my home in Texas or as I drove grandchildren to a Puerto Rico mountain top or sitting on the low wall outside the camp club in El Pao. And you have seen such days also, I’m sure. We all have.

Invariably, such days tug me back to a vinyl record my father bought when I was not yet two years old. No, I don’t recall the day he bought it; as far as I am concerned, it had always been a part of my life; however, in writing this post I looked at the issue date: 1955.

It is Gary Moore’s The Elephant Child: Musical Adaptations based on Just So Stories For Little Children by Rudyard Kipling.

The second story in the album is “How The Camel Got Its Hump”. Like all such tales in Just So, “Camel” is an origin story. Moore delightfully channels Kipling as he unfolds the yarn about a world that is just beginning and has much work to be done. The horse, the ox, and the dog are doing their best to help the man; however, the camel just sits there in the desert doing nothing but saying “Humph!”

A recurring motif throughout the story is that “The world is so new and all” and this creature refuses to carry her weight. If you don’t know it, I’ll let you read the rest of the 2 or 3 pages; or look it up in Internet Archives and listen to Moore’s adaptation.

It’s the recurring refrain that comes to my mind on days of crispness and clarity: when the world was so new and all.

Robert Redford is quoted as saying, “Life is essentially sad.” I understand his meaning to be that happiness is a rare thing and when one encounters it one must grasp it for a moment, for it is too seldom seen. 

Mr. Redford’s is a sad philosophy of life, I am truly sorry to say. Yes, we may see much tribulation in life, as the apostle tells us. However, life can be joyful and its end, glorious and eternal, as per the Westminster Shorter Catechism.

I see the aforementioned days as reminders of God’s goodness. They are one of life’s gifts which cannot be explained with mere words; but are part of the joy unspeakable that is ours in Christ and in His Kingdom.

As for our childhood, yes, colors were bright then … but they are bright still, no? Sure they are.

We may have storms today … but we had them back then as well.

As we begin the new ecclesiastical year, celebrating this Advent Season, we could do worse than remember to be grateful for the days we have been given and to determine to make our remaining days worth the while.

So, in a sense, the world is as new and all today as it was in 1955.

Photo of El Morro Fort taken in 1977. Notice the trees along the driveway and to the right. These were cut down and removed in the early 90s.

Robert Redford (1936-2025). Photo taken in 2003

Do You Have Beer?

Richard Barnes

In past Thanksgiving times, we have quoted from William Bradford’s journal to tell of Squanto and of Bradford’s first Thanksgiving proclamation (here and here). 

Bradford’s journal lists the 102 Mayflower passengers and then, heartbreakingly, tells of the deaths of half their number that winter of 1620 – 1621. By the spring of 1621, only 53 remained. And the small group did their best to appear to be more: they buried their dead in unmarked graves, they shot their muskets at different spots, making it seem that many more were shooting, and so forth.

The first contacts between Europeans and the native tribes of those parts occurred about a century before the arrival of the Pilgrims in 1620. Similar to the Mountain Men in the 19th Century American west, traders and fishermen sailed or otherwise explored along the coasts of New England in the 16th century, seeking furs, fish, and other raw materials. And they unknowingly prepared the way for those who would come later. In the case of the Mountain Men, their footsteps, trails, and dealings with the Indians later guided or hindered pioneering families in the west; similarly, their forebears, the European traders and fishers, guided or hindered the Pilgrims and Puritans in the 17th century east.

The Pilgrims arrived at what is now Plymouth Rock. That region was known as Patuxet (“little falls”). About a decade before, the tribe that lived there had been wiped out by a plague. There was one member of that tribe who was not present: Squanto. He and nineteen others had been treacherously betrayed and sent to Spain as slaves by Thomas Hunt, an English mariner.

Bradford’s comment pithily summarizes the Pilgrims’ opinion of Mr. Hunt: “… like a wretched man that cares not what mischief he does for his profit ….”

However, Providence had its reasons. Squanto was set free in Spain and made his way to England where he learned English. He eventually sailed back as an interpreter to Thomas Dermer. But he found his tribe completely annihilated.

And that brings us to Samoset.

Chief Massasoit of the Massachusett Indians had a decision to make: expel the Pilgrims or form an alliance with them? Although his tribe had not been directly affected, the memory of men like Hunt was recent and portentous. 

Squanto told Chief Massasoit about the wonders he had seen and experienced in England and urged him to seek peace with the Pilgrims. The chief then consulted with Samoset, a satrap or lesser chief of the Abenakki Indians from present day Maine. The chief sent Samoset as his emissary to the Pilgrims.

In mid-March, 1621, Samoset walked confidently into the Pilgrim colony and asked, “Do you have beer?” The alarmed Pilgrims were immediately put at ease when they heard their mother tongue spoken by this half naked “savage” who had learned to speak as they from mariners along the coast.

Samoset spent some time with them, telling them about the terrain and the other tribes that surrounded them. He left them, promising to return. And he did so, this time with our friend, Squanto. They both told the Pilgrims that Chief Massasoit and sixty men would be coming to visit them. That startled the Pilgrims yet again, but they learned there was no cause for alarm.

William Bradford’s good friend, Edward Wilson, spoke with the chief, using Squanto as translator. The parties agreed to a treaty which lasted decades, neither side ever violating the terms.

Edward Winslow’s letter to his “loving and old friend” tells us much about these events and the First Thanksgiving. We will close this post with the concluding paragraphs of that letter, dated “this 11 of December, 1621” (emphasis mine):

“We have found the Indians very faithful in their covenant of peace with us; very loving and ready to pleasure us: we often go to them, and they come to us; some of us have been fifty miles by land in the country with them … yea, it hath pleased God so to possess the Indians with a fear of us, and love unto us, that not only the greatest king amongst them called Massasoit, but also all the princes and peoples round about us, have either made suit unto us, or been glad of any occasion to make peace with us, so that seven of them at once have sent their messengers to us to that end …. [They] have yielded willingly to be under the protection, and subjects to our sovereign Lord King James, so that there is now great peace amongst the Indians themselves, which was not formerly, neither would have been but for us; and we … walk as peaceably and safely in the wood, as in the highways in England, we entertain them familiarly in our houses, and they as friendly bestowing their venison on us ….

“… so I take my leave, commending you to the Lord for a safe conduct unto us. Resting in Him

Your loving Friend,

E. W.

Jeremiah Johnson, the 1972 film is, in my opinion, the best Robert Redford movie. He plays a Mountain Man and does so with grit and a character development arc from comic naiveté to vengeful anger. As you watch it, remember, it was men like him who prepared the way for those who’d come after and settle and develop and more.
Signing of the Mayflower Compact. Edward Wilson stands at center with his right hand on the table and left hand holding the ink jar
The Pilgrims were put at ease as soon as Samoset asked for beer.