Archibald the Mystical Mouse

I’ve been thinking since March 5th of 2026, when I published my book, that I should rewrite it — not because I expect sales to suddenly skyrocket, but because I left out some things, explanations that would have mattered. Like the fact that I have this mystical mouse named Archibald MacLeish who shows up in the beginning. I just assumed everyone would sort of get it, and then it started occurring to me, over and over again, that no, not everyone does get it. What’s the big deal about the mouse?

So let me say it plainly.

In my book, I talk about this make‑believe mouse named Archibald MacLeish. He’s a small, mystical presence who slips in and out of the story, but the name itself comes from something real in my life. Back in school, my science teacher kept a classroom mouse, and he named that little creature Archibald MacLeish. At the time, I didn’t know much about the man behind the name, but my teacher did — and he believed in giving things names that meant something.

Later, I learned who the real Archibald MacLeish was — an American poet who wrote about democracy as something you do, not something you admire from a distance. He believed in dissent, in thinking for yourself, in the dignity of choosing your own path.

So the mouse in my book is that mouse — the one supporting my dissent. Not just the classroom mouse, and not just the poet, but the whole chain of belief behind it: a teacher who saw something in me, a poet who stood for freedom of thought, and a reminder that even the smallest presence can carry a big idea.

That’s the namesake. That’s the reason. That’s why the mouse is Archibald MacLeish. That’s why he shows up at the induction center.

And I should have explained that as an introduction to the little guy — why he’s there and given him the honor and the dues he deserved. I think folks would have felt the depth of his presence.

Leave a comment

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

Sunday Morning Sex Ramble

If you thought your Sunday morning coffee packed a punch, wait until you get a taste of this story. Scandal, silk stockings, and a dash of notoriety—Mae West and her infamous play are about to spice up your brunch scroll.

On this day in 1927, actress Mae West was sentenced to 10 days in jail for starring in the play Sex, which she also wrote and directed. It was her first Broadway show. Although Sex received terrible reviews, it drew huge crowds. After 41 weeks, police arrived and arrested the cast and crew, but only West ended up in jail. She was charged with “producing an immoral show and maintaining a public nuisance.” She said, “I wrote the story myself. It’s about a girl who lost her reputation and never missed it.” This reminds me of the movie I suggested the other day, “Professor Marston and the Wonder Women” (2017), which explores similar themes of reputation, societal norms, and strong female characters.

While in jail, West had to give up her silk stockings but was allowed to keep her silk underwear. She had her own private cell and charmed the warden and his wife, who invited her to dinner at their home each night. She made friends with other inmates while making beds and dusting. In her free time, she read business articles about different Hollywood studios. She was released two days early for good behavior.

The following year, she wrote and starred in the play Diamond Lil (1928) on Broadway, and it was a big success. She went to Hollywood, got a part in Night After Night (1932), and was allowed to rewrite her scenes. In her first scene, a hatcheck girl says to her, “Goodness, what beautiful diamonds!” and West says, “Goodness has nothing to do with it, dearie.” It was a hit, and the next year she co-starred with Cary Grant in I’m No Angel (1933). By 1935, she was said to be the second-highest-paid person in the United States, after William Randolph Hearst.

Mae West knew a thing or two about stirring the pot—and sometimes, that’s exactly what Sunday mornings are for.

Leave a comment

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

Rating: 1 out of 5.

There is no charge to subscribe