It's a Wonderful Substack Life

A columnist's desperation leads to a Christmas-time change in perspective

[It’s a cold December night. Snow is falling. Desperate, The Columnist stands on the Ferry Street Bridge, trying to make up his mind to act. He glances furtively around, crouching as though about to jump. Suddenly, he’s distracted by a splash below and a male voice crying out.]

CLARENCE’S VOICE: Help, help!

[Columnist quickly peels off his “Quack Attack” hoodie and dives into the water. He wraps an arm around the neck of the man flailing in the water and sidestrokes him to shore, then the two walk to the Egan Warming Center for fresh, dry clothes and hot drinks. Clarence picks up a copy of Tom Sawyer, and shakes it.]

CLARENCE: Oh, Tom Sawyer’s drying out, too. You should read the new book Mark Twain’s writing now.

COLUMNIST: Say, little buddy, how’d you happen to fall in the river?

CLARENCE: I didn’t fall in. I jumped in to save you. You were thinking of — well, you didn’t go through with it, did you?

COLUMNIST: No, but, I promised readers a Wonderful Life Trivia Quiz and now I’m reneging.

CLARENCE: Bob, Bob … .

COLUMNIST: How do you know my name?

CLARENCE: Because I’m your SGA.

COLUMNIST: My what?

CLARENCE: Your Substack Guardian Angel. Clarence is my name, angel Second Class. So, Bob, why is your lip bleeding?

COLUMNIST: [Tongue licks blood.] That’s what I get for writing. I was reaching up to get a reference book — The Atlas of Oregon, co-edited by Jim Meacham — and I slipped off my one-step ladder and did a face-plant into U.S. History. Think my lip hit the corner of Doris Kearns Goodwin’s No Ordinary Time.

CLARENCE: You’re 70, Bob. Have you considered paying someone to get the books for you on the high shelves?

COLUMNIST: Wait, how do you know my age?

CLARENCE: As I said, I’m your Substack Guardian Angel. I know everything about you as a Substack writer. I laughed at your “paper map hiker” Beatles line and cringed when you left out a “y” in the word “usually” in the first sentence of your column about how men and women react differently to problems. I know it all.

COLUMNIST: Yeah, well go off and haunt someone else, little fellah. I’ve got enough trouble. I hate making promises I can’t keep.

CLARENCE: I’m sure you have your reasons for deciding against the contest.

COLUMNIST: I do, but still … . You see, I did a Wonderful Life Trivia contest back in 1988 when I worked at The Journal-American in Bellevue, Wash.; even got Jimmy Stewart to autograph a copy of the It’s a Wonderful Life book for our winner.

CLARENCE: That’s wonderful; I thought Frank Capra was a genius for casting Stewart as George Bailey. But what does Bellevue have to do with your reason for not doing a trivia contest now?

COLUMNIST: In Bellevue, half of our 60 entries aced the 100-question quiz. I was going to make this one harder, but then I realized a little something called the Internet has risen to prominence in the 36 years since.

CLARENCE: And compounded with Artificial Intelligence, you probably couldn’t get a single question past your amazingly sharp audience of paid Heart, Humor & Hope subscribers. The word on the clouds is that your readers are phenomenal.

COLUMNIST: True that. But I’ve let them down. I never want to write another Wonderful Life trivia quiz again — ever. [Drops head in hands.] I suppose it’d been better if I’d never started this Substack column in the first place.

CLARENCE: Oh, you mustn’t say things like that, Bob. You — wait a minute. Wait just a minute. That’s an idea … [Nods head vigorously.] You’ve got your wish, Bob. You never became a Substack columnist.

[Suddenly, the snow outside stops falling. The Columnist’s lip stops bleeding. Cut to outside shot of Clarence and The Columnist walking to what used to be Track Town Pizza in Eugene. It is now a vape shop.]

COLUMNIST: Wait a minute, what the — this should be a local pizza joint owned by a Mr. Martini. It’s a Eugene icon, full of historical Duck sports photos — and great pizza.

CLARENCE: Track Town went out of business because, as a Substack columnist, you weren’t around to write that column about walking to Dari Mart in your micro spikes during the ice storm to get She Who a Diet Pepsi. Without that inspiration, a lot of people who otherwise would have gone out for pizza in inclement weather decided to stay home and eat leftovers, effectively putting Track Town out of business.

COLUMNIST: That’s crazy talk. On a night like this, Duck fans would be at Track Town, eating, drinking and talking about the football team’s Big 10 Conference football championship.

CLARENCE: There was no Big 10 Conference championship for the Ducks, Bob, because you didn’t do that Substack Q&A on reserve quarterback Brock Thomas back in August. Without your column, Brock got discouraged and quit the team and wasn’t around to encourage fellow QB Dillon Gabriel, who threw six interceptions in Oregon’s 45-7 loss to Ohio State at Autzen in October. Oregon finished 7-5 and is playing Miami of Ohio in the Snoop Dog Arizona Bowl. Say, I’m getting cold; let’s duck in for a drink.

[Cut to outside shot of nearby Starbucks, then to inside shot where the two are scanning the on-wall menu.]

MALE BARISTA: What’ll it be, pal?

CLARENCE: I’ll have a flaming rum punch. No, wait. Mulled wine, heavy on the cinnamon and light on the cloves. Off with you, me lad, and be lively!

MALE BARISTA: Look, mister, we serve hard, semi-hot, wildly overpriced drinks for people who want a caffeine jolt — fast. And we don’t need any characters around to give the place atmosphere.