The There There Letter: Faith v Fact, Flirting with Fame, and Fumé Blanc
Three things from DAH.
DAH is me, David Anthony Hance. I pen, promote, and make change (not the coin kind).
First up this week, Faith v Fact …
I was on the debate team in high school. At that time, teams were arguing for and against a proposition set for all teams during the debate season. Generally speaking, the team that clearly stated the most evidence for or against would win. We had reams of evidence cards we referenced in our arguments. One day, however, in a lunch-hour debate between my two-person team and our school's number one senior team, we were swamped by those seniors, and they presented no evidence, no facts. They did speak with great enthusiasm and merrily denigrated our evidence. This intramural debate was judged by the audience, which cheered our opponents on to victory. It didn't seem fair to my partner and me because they presented no facts. Instead, they were loud, entertaining, and well-spoken. That lunch-hour debate showed me how association with (and supporting) our school's most popular debaters was more important to the crowd than any boring facts we might trot out. That lesson stuck with me, and proved itself true, throughout my life.
Why Facts Don't Change Our Minds
Second up this week, Flirting with Fame …
There are many highly accomplished people in the world. Most of them aren't famous. Why? Assuming that fame is desired by at least some of those who aren't famous and that they aren't entirely unlikeable, I contend that they lacked appropriate connections and/or had bad timing. People can flirt with fame. They can be recognized locally. They can be very good at what they do -- the best at what they do -- and yet remain flirting in a small town. It may just come down to who you know, and when you know them. And there are those brief moments of semi-fame, momentary-fame, when the brass ring on life's carousel seems just within reach, only to be carried away a moment later. There is that most annoying fame-by-association that could happen to anybody: A little fame is earned merely because one knows someone really famous, or was nearby when something really amazing happened. The fickle fate of fame, fleeting and flirting (there's alliteration for you).
Arthur Calder-Marshall, the forgotten author Orson Welles almost made famous
Third up this week, Fumé Blanc …
Sauvignon Blanc was sometimes slightly sweet (and sometimes somewhat sweeter) when I started in the wine business. This was long before the tidal wave of Kiwi SB gained our shores in the USA. Most of the "serious" (dry, usually with some oak contact) wines made from Sauvignon Blanc were called Fumé Blanc, a name coined by Robert Mondavi (riffing on the French wine named Pouilly-Fumé) to identify his dry barrel-raised white made from Sauvignon Blanc. But there were no rules about it, really. Fumé Blanc usually sold for more money than Sauvignon Blanc. It had some oak character, and it was bottled in slope-shouldered burgundy mold glass. Beginning in the mid-1980s, and reaching full flood in the 1990s, New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc (primarily from Marlborough on the South Island) took the wine world by storm. The vibrant "cat's pee on a gooseberry bush" varietal character was so distinctive. The sort-of rules that had advised Sauvignon Blanc vs Fumé Blanc were washed away and naming confusion reigned. While wines labeled Fumé Blanc are still findable, their time and tide have receded as bright, fresh Sauvignon Blanc wines bottled in high-shoulder claret mold glass are still rising in popularity. The tide always does turn.
Why Some Winemakers Still Use the Name Fumé Blanc
And a bit more (I'm on an Emily Dickinson jag):
Fame is a bee.
It has a song—
It has a sting—
Ah, too, it has a wing.
And that's all for this week.
From Mary Oliver's poem "Sometimes" …
DAH is me, David Anthony Hance. I pen, promote, and make change (not the coin kind).
First up this week, Faith v Fact …
I was on the debate team in high school. At that time, teams were arguing for and against a proposition set for all teams during the debate season. Generally speaking, the team that clearly stated the most evidence for or against would win. We had reams of evidence cards we referenced in our arguments. One day, however, in a lunch-hour debate between my two-person team and our school's number one senior team, we were swamped by those seniors, and they presented no evidence, no facts. They did speak with great enthusiasm and merrily denigrated our evidence. This intramural debate was judged by the audience, which cheered our opponents on to victory. It didn't seem fair to my partner and me because they presented no facts. Instead, they were loud, entertaining, and well-spoken. That lunch-hour debate showed me how association with (and supporting) our school's most popular debaters was more important to the crowd than any boring facts we might trot out. That lesson stuck with me, and proved itself true, throughout my life.
Why Facts Don't Change Our Minds
Second up this week, Flirting with Fame …
There are many highly accomplished people in the world. Most of them aren't famous. Why? Assuming that fame is desired by at least some of those who aren't famous and that they aren't entirely unlikeable, I contend that they lacked appropriate connections and/or had bad timing. People can flirt with fame. They can be recognized locally. They can be very good at what they do -- the best at what they do -- and yet remain flirting in a small town. It may just come down to who you know, and when you know them. And there are those brief moments of semi-fame, momentary-fame, when the brass ring on life's carousel seems just within reach, only to be carried away a moment later. There is that most annoying fame-by-association that could happen to anybody: A little fame is earned merely because one knows someone really famous, or was nearby when something really amazing happened. The fickle fate of fame, fleeting and flirting (there's alliteration for you).
Arthur Calder-Marshall, the forgotten author Orson Welles almost made famous
Third up this week, Fumé Blanc …
Sauvignon Blanc was sometimes slightly sweet (and sometimes somewhat sweeter) when I started in the wine business. This was long before the tidal wave of Kiwi SB gained our shores in the USA. Most of the "serious" (dry, usually with some oak contact) wines made from Sauvignon Blanc were called Fumé Blanc, a name coined by Robert Mondavi (riffing on the French wine named Pouilly-Fumé) to identify his dry barrel-raised white made from Sauvignon Blanc. But there were no rules about it, really. Fumé Blanc usually sold for more money than Sauvignon Blanc. It had some oak character, and it was bottled in slope-shouldered burgundy mold glass. Beginning in the mid-1980s, and reaching full flood in the 1990s, New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc (primarily from Marlborough on the South Island) took the wine world by storm. The vibrant "cat's pee on a gooseberry bush" varietal character was so distinctive. The sort-of rules that had advised Sauvignon Blanc vs Fumé Blanc were washed away and naming confusion reigned. While wines labeled Fumé Blanc are still findable, their time and tide have receded as bright, fresh Sauvignon Blanc wines bottled in high-shoulder claret mold glass are still rising in popularity. The tide always does turn.
Why Some Winemakers Still Use the Name Fumé Blanc
And a bit more (I'm on an Emily Dickinson jag):
Fame is a bee.
It has a song—
It has a sting—
Ah, too, it has a wing.
And that's all for this week.
From Mary Oliver's poem "Sometimes" …
Instructions for living a life:
Pay attention.
Be astonished.
Tell about it.
Pay attention.
Be astonished.
Tell about it.
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