I am more of a flour-speckled Ragueneau the pastry chef than I am a swashbuckling Cyrano de Bergerac. You’re much more likely to catch me loudly singing (badly) as I roll out the croissant dough than see me dashing rakishly across a field of wheat under the perfidious gaze of the Spanish (no offense to Perez-Reverte or the indelible Captain Alatriste here).
So why Cyrano’s Nose?
Because Cyrano’s nose is symbol of the one thing that holds our hero back. Himself. It is the self-imposed limitations of a great man, the singular barrier to his attaining love. It is the driving angst of a poet-warrior’s heart and his defiant call to battle.
I don’t pretend to be a great man, but like Ragueneau I have in me the innate ability to admire and appreciate it in others. In taking that nom de guerre for my blog I declare my intention to face full on the biggest limitations of every wannabe warrior poet, of every Walter Mitty, of every one of us harboring a secret life -our own inaction.