Of Mice and Mothmen

Mothman is a central figure in my life. Or rather, what Mothman represents figures heavily in my existence. Mothman was a name given to a mysterious creature allegedly seen in and around Point Pleasant, West Virginia in 1966-67. Eyewitnesses said that this “thing” was roughly man-shaped, winged, and stood seven or eight feet tall. It was described as being dark brown or gray and having the ability to fly. But the most striking feature seemed to be it’s large luminous red eyes. In addition to Mothman, people in that area reported seeing a number of strange things during that time. There were swamp creatures, UFO’s, aliens, mysterious men in black, androids, and a host of other dubious visitors. People from all walks of life had strange encounters over the course that year, with experiences alternatively clustering and dying off randomly. The area was abuzz with otherworldly encounters, and this soon reached the ears of John Keel in New York.

Keel was a journalist and self-proclaimed “Fortean investigator.” (Fortean being a term used to describe a host of unexplained phenomena occurring throughout time.) He had investigated UFO sightings and encounters with strange creatures around the world. Now he was drawn to Point Pleasant like a moth to a flame. He spent the better part of the year investigating these events, and experiencing his share of bizarre interludes. Strange sights and sounds bombarded Keel and kept him on edge during his stay. Phone calls from strangers with odd voices and other ambiguous signs seemed to portend an impending doom. According to Keel, these sinister forces told him that the world would end when the President lit the national Christmas tree. On December 15th, 1967 at the precise moment when LBJ fulfilled that Christmas ritual, the 700 span bridge linking Point Pleasant to Ohio collapsed. It was filled with rush hour holiday traffic, and many of those who plunged into the icy depths were witnesses to the Mothman.

Keel would come to see this tragedy as a culmination of all the nefarious activity, and blame it on “pan-dimensional” tricksters. These beings, he claimed, for reasons unknown to us, have been toying with humanity for thousands of years. They manifest themselves as creatures from our collective subconscious, having appeared as monsters, elves, gods, fairies, and aliens. Mr. Keel would later write about these events in his magnum opus, “The Mothman Prophesies.” It is imperative that this book not be confused with the horrific film of the same title. These two works have virtually nothing in common. The movie became a colossal failure and waste of time by departing from the accounts of the people of Point Pleasant, and missing the point of the story. The account recorded in “The Mothman Prophesies” has been described as a Fortean Holy Grail, and proof of paranormal activity. Yet many others would describe it with the appellation “bullshit.” Whatever the case may be, this Mothman fellow has taken his place in the abstract pantheon of my subconscious mind.

In my private study, or gentleman’s parlor, one will find a number of things. There are books stuffed into bookshelves, littering the floor, lying under furniture and stacked in corners. A number of swords bedeck the walls. There is a coonskin cap, a British military rifle, busts of Shakespeare and Beethoven, a map of Middle Earth, Russian Orthodox iconography, a large collection of pipes and tobacco, a 1970’s Lord of the Rings poster, a Willie Nelson bandana displaying a pot leaf with the words “first aid” written upon it, flasks, decanters, and tankards, and a poster. This poster is a replica of the one hanging in Agent Mulder’s office in the “X-Files” television show. It features an obviously fake flying saucer hovering over a dark forest, with the words “I want to believe” written in bold white letters. This is the first of three major slogans of my life.

When it comes to those things which cannot be proven, those outside the realm of science, I am an agnostic. I neither believe nor disbelieve, but I want to believe. The unknown is one of the most powerful forces that has shaped and continues to shape humanity. Life is a complicated, baffling, sometimes unfortunate business that plagues us so-called sentient life forms. In certain instances some feel it is imperative to look beyond the world of our senses. When tragedy befalls us, as it did in Point Pleasant, we immediately look for something to ease our grief or give meaning to what has happened. For one person, reincarnation takes away the pain of losing a loved one. Others take refuge in their belief of an Elysian paradise in the world to come. And for a select few, aliens or “pan-dimensional” beings carry the burden of why. When one cannot know, one must believe. And in order to believe, one must have faith. Yet, even if one has faith, one can never really know for certain until one crosses the threshold of death. Beliefs, whether true or not, can bring great comfort to those who suffer.

After my baptism into the world of Mothman, I became an evangelist of sorts, spreading word of this eerie phenomenon to all who would listen. Most would not, so I had to settle for those who would humor me. My interest was due in part to my ravenous curiosity of that intangible “other,” and partly due to my sarcastic humor about the human foible of irrational belief. My initial obsession with “The Mothman Prophesies” lasted for about six months. I told others about it, and encouraged them to read it for themselves. Becoming an irritating Mothman disciple, I soon made everyone within a ten mile radius aware of the events described by Keel. But like most of my eccentric interests which flare up randomly and burn out with time, my fervor for this topic soon abated. I had given up on Mothman.

Two years later the savage beast would rear its ugly head in my life again, this time most unexpectedly. A series of problems were plaguing our family at that time. We had known tragedy and loss. Our family was beginning to splinter in almost unimaginable ways. At an awkward social event featuring members of my fractured family, I decided to indulge in intoxication. When Shawna drove me home later that night, I apparently became very strange and melancholy. According to my longsuffering wife, I saw an owl in a tree and started babbling about Mothman and aliens. I claimed that they were connected to the ultimate questions of existence, and what Douglas Adams termed, “Life, the universe, and everything.” I pleaded with these unseen forces to reveal themselves to me in a tangible way. Somehow connecting Mothman with our family tragedies, I began to weep and sing “Bring Him Home,” from Les Misérables. Shawna focused on getting me home and away from the general public. She made perfunctory non-committal noises in response to my questions. Upon arriving at our domicile she retired to the powder room and away from my insanity. When she emerged I was nowhere to be found. After a thorough search of the house she looked outside. I was standing in the back yard in my underwear with my arms outstretched to the sky. Like an overweight postmodern Jesus I stood in a cruciform position calling to Mothman to come and take me home. Scandalized, Shawna dragged me into the house and attempted to comfort me as she fought her own dismay. This ridiculous chain of events was made all the more strange by the fact that I’d not thought of the Mothman in nearly two years. The next day whilst scanning the world news online I came upon an obscure piece of information that had failed to make the headlines: John Keel had died. This bizarre coincidence unnerved me, and made me think that perhaps he was on to something after all. I cursed Mothman and his gang of pan-dimensional tricksters, and vowed I would continue Keel’s work and confound theirs. But reality and a short attention span forced me to put this quest on hold for the time being.

Another perennial obsession of mine is Hamlet. I would argue that it is perhaps the greatest work in the English language. One of my favorite quotes, and consequently the second great slogan of my life, is, “there are more things in heaven and earth Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.” It is indeed foolhardy egotism to claim to know everything about the world. Those who are certain that there is nothing beyond the world of the senses are mirror images of those who claim to know that there is. Horatio was more rational, and less passionate than any of the other Danes in the play. Perhaps this is why he was the only one to survive. He didn’t fully engage in Hamlet’s obsession, nor did he fully discount it. This leads to my third and final slogan, which is a quote from Voltaire: “doubt is not a pleasant condition, but certainty is absurd.” Standing among the dead, Horatio surely found no comfort in the fact that his philosophy of via media had saved his life. While the others were all dead, they had died in passionate belief. He kept his head and became the lone survivor. So who is more enviable, those who avoid certainty and escape the pitfalls of fanaticism, or those who fall victim to it and enter the undiscovered country from whose bourn no traveler returns?