Waiting for Lefty
Here we are together again. It's been a week since we last met. So how's it been?
You may be a regular, then again you may not. At least you have the paper within your grasp — now turning the pages to see what catches your eye. For the moment your eye rests here.
It would be impudent for me to inquire about your reading habits. Whether you are currently eating, drinking, defecating, travelling or some such is your own business. And frankly, despite my guesses (you're seated, surely?), I don't know any better. To me you are simply dear reader.
A Voice: Excuse me. Could we quit this malarky and get to the point? There's more to the paper than your little bit.
Myself: But it's the only bit I get. I treat it as a homily.
A Voice: So what tedious homily have you got to weary us with this week?
Myself: Don't rush me now, or you'll upset my train of thought.
A Voice (with some annoyance): Then continue.
Myself: Thank you, I will — Now, you've done it. I've lost it, and it was something profound, I'm certain of it.
A Voice (very sternly): You do go on.
Myself: That's it! That's my point. I go on, you go on, we all go on. But for what? What's it all about? It's only words: words, words and more words.
A Voice: And I'm waiting for the next one.
Myself: Pre-cise-ly! (We make a great team, you and me.) We're waiting — all of us are waiting.
A Voice: Yes?
Myself: We are waiting for Lefty!
A Voice: That's it? You have led us this far to tell us that?
Myself: Oh, can't you see? All those dear readers out there are waiting for something to come along. Something to make them passionate and renew their ideals. They're waiting to be stirred and remade. They're waiting for Lefty to arrive.
A Voice: "Lefty" who?
Myself: That's the problem — I don't know.
A Voice: You don't know!
Myself: Lefty could be any number of things. But when Lefty arrives, you'll know.
A Voice: I'll know, shall I?
Myself: Undoubtedly. You'll read about it here in Green Left, and it will make you excited, so excited that you will rush to meet it.
A Voice: But what if I get sick of waiting?
Myself: If that's what you think may happen, then do something now. Don't let the grass grow under your feet. Go ahead and do it!
A Voice: Do what?
Myself: Join up. Get with the rest who sell Green Left, and organise in many various ways.
A Voice: Hang on! You are just an unashamed recruiter for one of those socialist outfits.
Myself: That I am. Well, this week, anyway. Next week I won't be so brazen about it.
A Voice: Well, I never...
Myself: Never guessed, eh? We come in all shapes and sizes.
A Voice: No. I never thought about it.
Myself: That's what we lefties are here for.
Dave Riley