Strength to Resist
Adventure writer Sebastian Junger sat alone at the Au Rendez-Vous des Belges, just across from the Gare du Nord, as instructed. The somewhat disembodied voice over his hotel phone had claimed to be Kirk Douglas’ ghost. It was early in the evening so he’d decided to see what was behind the cloak and dagger.
A couple got up and moved over to his table. “Excuse me,” the man reached out to shake Sebastian’s hand, “I’m Kirk Douglas.” And he was. “Thank you for coming, I’d like to introduce you to Ms. Andrée De Jongh.”
“I’m glad to meet you, Mr. Junger,” said Andrée, shaking his hand. “I’ve been keeping up on your adventure journalism.”
Shaking her hand, Sebastian looked more closely. “I’ve heard your name before.”
“Ms. De Jongh was twenty-three years old, when the Nazi’s invaded her country, Belgium.“This 100 pound girl led soldiers and airmen south 600 miles through enemy held territory, across the Pyrenees to the British consulate in Bilbao.”
“Look,” Sebastian held up a hand. “you’ve come to tell me hero stories about WWII? This is 2020.”
“Yes it is, Sebastian,” Andrée said. “You write adventure stories, showing people doing courageous things. It is now time for you to talk about the real heros, the ones who get up every day facing a world they no longer recognize.”
“You refer to the political situation, the fear? The new Nazi’s? Or the cyber-anonymity?”
“All of it.” Kirk smiled. “It reminds me of a conversation I had with John Wayne once, early in my career, about being macho. I told him ‘if I play a strong man in a film, I look for the moments where he's weak. And if I play a weak character, I look for the moments where he's strong because that's what drama's all about — chiaroscuro, light and shade.’ Look, the real battle you folks are going to be waging in the next few years is the battle for hope, and I’m glad I don’t have to be around. But you are, and if you are going to show people how to hold on to hope, you’re going to have to tell real stories, that glow in the dark.”
Sebastien looked across the Rue de Dunkerque. When he turned back they were gone. He felt the air growing cooler and could hear the night sounds rise.
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