I don’t know Jaybird Bronson. I’ve never met him. My sister, who has viewed him only once, alerted me to his existence. This middle-age man, according to legend, is a living reminder that things could always be worse. No matter what catastrophe befalls me, I feel better if I meditate on Jaybird.
I’ve been thinking about Jaybird Bronson a lot this summer.
When my minivan caught on fire, I envisioned poor old Jaybird Bronson driving his dune buggy through the streets of Tuscaloosa, Ala. When my minivan survived the conflagration, I clung to the image.