The sun was shining as I finished refreshing the chicken house. Blue, the rooster, led his ladies milling around, happy as they checked out the new straw and shavings. And then, out of the silent sky came the roar and rumble. Looking up, I saw nothing, but heard and felt it deep in my body. I know that sound, it was a fighter jet, flying low overhead and I thought – the war has begun. 

The news media bombards us and, like the chickens scratching in the orchard, we are half-primed for the pounce of a predator coming from the surrounding underbrush. For the moment, the chickens are safe from a resident bobcat on the hill as I will not let them into the orchard, but we may not be so lucky.

With each item of news about the shenanigans happening in the Happy House in Washington DC, everything we treasure about the Constitution is under attack and it takes more strength than I have not to be afraid of, and for, America. We can hardly glance at Gaza, the Sudan, and the world. But Europe, though teetering on waves of militant bravado has woken up. Germany has just elected a Conservative government – but the seemingly strong right-wing factor is licking its electoral wounds. Even Nigel Farage has toned down his bombastic spittle. A beloved friend in England who was beginning her new life in Scotland now thinks that her old home in the Australian Outback looks safer.

Thinking back into European and American History of less that a hundred years ago is like turning the pages on an old photo album. History, behaviour, and human nature mixes and re-emerges as a sea thrusting the waves of an ocean storm circling us again.

I’m thinking of young Vladimir Putin as a keen and dedicated KGB officer, committed to keeping all the surrounding principalities  herded into the USSR and then, under Putin’s watch, for it all to be upset by Mikhail Gorbachev giving back Ukraine and breaking up the Union of Russia so tightly bound by Stalin. An attempted coup – here is that word again – led to the dissolution of the Communist party in Russia and the USSR four months later. Heady and searing times for a young, ambitious KGB officer. At the same time another ambitious yet nervous young New York business want-to-be was struggling with paternal authority issues. Slipping into real estate with a million dollars, and the advice, “you’ve got to be a killer”, from his father Fred, he began. Among his successes were failures, both moral and financial but he kept playing the part until he became the business man he wanted to be.  But this smiling blustering crook took more than one serious tumble and that was captured and understood by an equally ruthless and ambitious, but more serious President across the continent of enemies. While Putin’s early bruising was from Gorbachev, and remembered for the rest of his life, the US President’s crushing bruising came later, in 2011 when an African-American president, Barak Obama, returned his fire at the White House Correspondents’ Dinner – these personal insults were never forgotten and maybe this was the night that redemption and revenge became the main drive of Donald Trump to rule the universe he knew.

Now these two men are playing on the world stage, ruthless killers and unrepentant deal makers. It is not a good combination for democracy.  Ukraine’s President Zelenskyy may be bold, clever, quick and right but crushing him and regaining Ukraine to Mother Russia remains an objective, with the candy cane of minerals and wheat for the taking. We who are older and watching what is playing out see a repeat cycle on the world stage and know that deep down all of this dog-fighting is personal. There are other young European leaders taking up the helm for Zelenskyy and Ukraine. Emmanuel Macron flies to Washington DC, sits at the right hand of the Emperor and gently laughs, humors and says ‘Ah but no no, it was like this’. The Emperor laps it up, enjoying the adulation of the younger man but will probably pay no heed to his words. Next will come the British Prime Minister, Chief Prosecutor for the Labour Party, Sir Keir Starmer, as devoid of humor and charm as Macron is full of it. He will play another hand, appearing to be ‘taking the President seriously’ while – maybe – we can never be sure with Sir Keir – again trying to guide the US president away from his deal making with Russia.

Zelenskyy, Macron, and Starmer are young men, hard working and dedicated to Democracy and a Free Europe but they may not be strong enough to turn the US President away from the skull crushing grasp of the Russian bear Vladimir Putin.

We watch the world stage from our rural corner of California, while looking at the effects of the games played by the boys in the Oval Office. What affects us close to home? What are the things we care about? Hard working families in fear of being torn apart, rangers from the National Parks fired, books banned from Libraries and Schools. 

We are older and need to tidy up our lives. We are not cleaning out the cupboards and barn stalls as we should be, instead have been writing of our work, our lives and worlds together and apart. There are family stories to repeat, cinematic history and community evolution to record. And for some lucky reason both Walter and I are managing in our own ways to remember, to write and to share our lives. Walter’s new book ‘Suddenly Something Clicked’ from Faber & Faber will be on bookstore shelves and Amazon in the UK in May and the US in July. My ‘Harvesting History while Farming the Flats’ will be scrolling out in a digital format for your Kindle in March, followed with a print version a week later. And even an Audio – as soon as I can get to it. Here is a little glimpse in the prologue of our life stories as they moved separately through the decades of our existence together.

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After my husband delivered a lecture to a group of Danish Film makers and students Philip calls out, “The last question please,” and a young man stands up.

“Mr. Murch, with your work schedule and the traveling, how do you manage a home life?” then he sits down. Suddenly there is a deeper quiet in the room. Philip nods and raises his eyebrows, which always look striking with his large, round, smooth bald head. He nods as if to say, “yes this is a good question” and looks over at Walter. Walter pauses, not rushing, as he can, to answer with overflowing ideas. Then he responded.

“Truth be told I don’t. I am often on a project for a year, maybe longer, sometimes eighteen months, even two years – and in that time I may not know where I will be six weeks ahead. You will have to ask Aggie that question.” He smiles and looks up briefly before Philip calls out, “Lunch. We will reconvene in an hour.”

‘Harvesting History while Farming the Flats’ is my answer.

This has been A Letter From A. Broad, written and read for you by Muriel Murch. 

As always supported by https://www.murchstudio.com