The Insiders: One-half the ‘Insiders’ bids a fond farewell
Goodbye forever, Concord! Usually, this column is written under the dual nomenclature of “The Insiders,” with no indication as to which of the two Insiders actually penned each individual column (actually, we alternated between dictating the columns aloud in unison and writing them with one pencil gripped tightly between Ben’s left hand and Keith’s right). Today, however, this column is all Ben Conant (but still written in the third person). After a hearty three-year run at the Insider, Ben is moving on to work as the sports editor at the Monadnock Ledger-Transcript in Peterborough. Will covering the athletes on the high school sports beat be as rewarding as covering the athletes of Concord’s worm races? Only time will tell.
The Insiders column (and the Insider itself, of course) will soldier on; our trudge toward the lip of Mt. Doom continues, Precious in hand, ready to toss it over the brink. Was that a metaphor? There’s no way to know at this point.
It’s been a fun ride, readers. We know that you’ll miss Ben as much as he misses us (a lot more, probably). He’d like to leave you all with this fitting poem by William Drummond of Hawthornden:
I know that all beneath the moon decays,
And what by mortals in this world is brought,
In Time’s great periods shall return to nought;
That fairest states have fatal nights and days;
I know how all the Muse’s heavenly lays,
With toil of spright which are so dearly bought,
As idle sounds of few or none are sought,
And that nought lighter is than airy praise.
I know frail beauty like the purple flower,
To which one morn oft birth and death affords;
That love a jarring is of minds’ accords,
Where sense and will invassal reason’s power:
Know what I list, this all can not me move,
But that, O me! I both must write and love.
∎ ∎ ∎
The film Grease plays at Red River Theatres today at 4 p.m.
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