A Treatise on Treason

"The shepherd drives the wolf from the sheep's throat, for which the sheep thanks the shepherd as his liberator, while the wolf denounces him for the same act as the destroyer of liberty."
- Abraham Lincoln

That quote alone greatly raised my esteem for our 16th President. It's also a great starting point for describing the decay of our country. Many people use the same words in their arguments, but the meanings are opposite. Both the sheep and the wolf cry out for liberty but the first wants the freedom to live and the second the freedom to kill.

You can see struggles like these in our political battles. There are those who want freedom from religion and those who want to be free to force their religion. There are those who want to be free from pollution and those who want to be free to pollute. And there are those who seek equity in our workplace with rules for safety and wages and those who wish to be free of those safeguards.

As I've stated before, you cannot serve your country if cannot serve the truth. When the greatest ship in the world has its hull pierced, the passengers fall into two groups. The loyal group loves the ship truly and speaks out, calling for its repair. The selfish group loves riding on the ship only and decries anything that takes from their enjoyment. They call the first group "traitors" for saying their ship is anything but perfect.

The countries that have risen to greatness did so by serving the truth. Ancient Rome disdained the tyranny of an emperor and rose to great power. And then backslid into the corruption of an all-ruling power. Had they kept serving the ideals of a free republic, who knows what may have happened. And as we now turn our backs on our freedoms, that same question will be asked of us.

Today we stand with a President as a traitor. How can a man lie to his country, spill the blood of his fellow citizens, bring terror to the world, and call himself loyal? These are dark times indeed. To fix this we must come clean. Admitting we are wrong will not destroy us, it will heal us. But to not do so is fatal - and treasonous.

The Gnawing

I suppose from the outside I am very much a stereotypical "abode challenged" individual. I can certainly be seen talking to myself, my eyes are distrustful and fearful and I have a frown for everyone I meet. Most of the time the homeless are portrayed as pretty scary people and I could fit into that category too with my hair trigger temper and frayed nerves. But I also realize most people put into my situation would fare far worse than I.

It's the "missing" that eats on me the most. Missing Debby and missing me. I saw part of a concert on TV from a few years ago combining Earth, Wind and Fire with Chicago. I wish I could have seen more but the few songs I did catch were magic. These were songs I'd heard all my life but had never seen performed. I was insanely jealous. There was no phoniness or acting, just performers completely comfortable in their own skin enjoying themselves. Man, it was great.


I love healing. A doctor heals one at a time but a song heals forever. Even if it cost me my life, I would gladly swap it to have contributed just one of those great songs. That is my one wish. Perhaps there are others out there like me, lacking the moral courage to follow their dreams, walking around with the talent of those I saw onstage. If so, I can guarantee you it's gnawing at them.

Seven Mysteries of Your Life

When I was a kid there was a bit we'd use if someone asked us a question we didn't want to answer. "I don't know," we'd reply, "make it one of the seven mysteries of your life." Where this came from, I have no idea. But there seemed to be some implied understanding each person had seven mysteries in their life to bear as a matter of consequence. I always liked that concept and I never forgot it. Plus it works great as a smart ass answer.

Here are a couple of my mysteries. I'll post more if I live that long.

The Boxer.Some things resonate with us even if we don't know why. A story I once read in a magazine haunts me to this day. It was a profile of an up and coming boxer, perhaps the best in the world in his class. As he worked his way up through the ranks, it was evident he was simply on a different level than his opponents. Even as he neared the top, he kept winning and finally he got his shot at the champ. It was to be his moment of vindication at long last, he believed. But he lost.

The bubble had been popped. Without his all-conquering belief, he was no longer the same person. The story told of the plane ride back with his "specialness" gone. He had to have that ego boost he was the best in order to perform. That ego trip was over, thus so was his career. A fatal character flaw or was he meant to be something else all along? Regardless, I have never forgotten him.


The Magic Spot.This is a true mystery. It's hard to even hazard a guess what happened here. It's not something I've talked about because what's the point? Sort of like seeing a UFO, to talk of it only brings grief. But this was real and it happened.

I was on a boy scout trip and we went to some land owned by a scout master or someone. It was great. We were out in the boonies and left to explore on our own. Eventually I found myself alone in a place of very sandy soil and some very thick trees. At the bottom of the trees was debris wrapped around from what had to of been large amounts of rain water gushing through. For some reason, this fascinated me. "Is this real?" I remember thinking. And then I began to realize I was in a special place.

Never in my life have I found a place for me in this world. I'm not complaining, it's just a fact. But there in those trees I was home. It was a sense of euphoria I had not felt before or since. I had been in the woods and whatnot before but never did I experience this. It was like returning to the Garden of Eden. There was something so right about being there. I was rejoicing and filled with wonder. Truly, I was sitting in paradise and no longer of this earth.

When I heard the call to leave I was crushed. Heartbroken, I reluctantly trudged my way back into the sorrow of the real world. I had been embraced by that mystical spot and it was like leaving family. As I think back now, that short time may have been the happiest moments of my childhood.

Every Day is the Fourth of July

The quotes a person picks to, um, quote are oftentimes an insightful peek into a person's thought process. There seems to be two types of people in this country: those who love it and those who love raping it. Some love both but sooner or later you gotta pick one. Both claim to "love" their land.

Anyway, here are a few select quotes from the ages of true patriots:

"As Mankind becomes more liberal, they will be more apt to allow that all those who conduct themselves as worthy members of the community are equally entitled to the protections of civil government. I hope ever to see America among the foremost nations of justice and liberality."
- George Washington

"The government of the United States is not in any sense founded on the Christian Religion."
- George Washington

"In every country and every age, the priest had been hostile to Liberty."
- Thomas Jefferson

"Money, not morality, is the principle of commerce and commercial nations."
- Thomas Jefferson

"The natural progress of things is for liberty to yield and government to gain ground."
- Thomas Jefferson

"Any society that would give up a little liberty to gain a little security will deserve neither and lose both."
- Benjaman Franklin

"Liberty means responsibility. That is why most men dread it."
- George Bernard Shaw

"If liberty means anything at all, it means the right to tell people what they do not want to hear."
- George Orwell

"The shepherd drives the wolf from the sheep's throat, for which the sheep thanks the shepherd as his liberator, while the wolf denounces him for the same act as the destroyer of liberty."
- Abraham Lincoln

"So you want this fucking job?"
- John Kennedy to Barry Goldwater after being informed of the Bay of Pigs disaster

The Unspeakable Things

"...Germany, considered the height of human intellect, bred a Nazi culture that used its "wisdom" to carry out the most unspeakable atrocities..."

Each soul is driven beyond all constraint to express itself. For it is our soul that concerns each of us the most. No soul can stay unknown.---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

She had "returned to the fold". The 'lost weekend' was over. She had been granted guarded forgiveness and was now expected to return the favor with proper behavior and a pound of flesh. Her parents, she thought, never fully trusted her again. She had once been the golden child - cheerleader, homecoming queen, wife - all as it should have been. Then a snake whispered in her ear.

Janitor Man. Everyone knew him as that. He was the devil that led her astray, she said. He'd even had the gall to contact her again, sending her notes over the years and a book supposedly written in her honor. She had properly disregarded them all. "Sick and pathetic," she spoke of him. But her other feelings for him she could never mention - those were unspeakable.

It was time to tow the line. She would dutifully speak of the greatness of God, her parents and the world. Most of all, she vehemently proclaimed her happiness. Having allegedly seen the error of her ways, she would build her house now, the one she had torn apart before. But truth was that hope was long gone. Her home would only be on the outside - that too was an unspeakable fact.

"You can't do too much for your children." Two children, a girl and a boy, became her life. Thank God she could take the focus off herself! She was determined to be the perfect mother. Showing a devotion to be admired by all, she found a role where she could hide. The feelings of unmutable sorrow, of dreams dying and crying out for help, of a suffocating prison of lies - those feelings must be pushed aside! She had a family depending on her now, such inconvenient truths are unspeakable.

Then the Unspeakable happened.

The news ushered in her darkest hour. The wailing was uncontrollable, terrifying to see. In the depths of Hell she stood, all her buried lies revealed by howling flames. God's retribution at last. To nought could she appeal her fate. Her son was dead: suicide. He too had lived in a prison of lies and saw no way out. He was not the perfectly Godly person he was expected to be. But he must let no one know, such revelations were unspeakable...


She drowned in the nights, no solace found. She would accept any crumb God had to offer; her surrender unconditional. But God cannot hear what is not spoken. Forced by fear, she wandered back to a time long ago yet always near. Once more she re-lived the parting words of the Janitor Man, words branded upon her soul:

He had wanted her know how meeting her had touched him. "...Anyone can say the words, but when it comes from somebody you respect-" That's when she looked up at him - shocked. Crushed, he then realized how much of his admiration he had held back. Scrambling, he continued, "You are greatness, Debby. Don't let anyone tell you differently. You are a unique and special person. You may think I don't know you-" She remembered his easy smile, as a child who found a friend. "-but I've always known you. I can't get enough of you. But the way you treat yourself - when you say you have problems selling yourself short - that's an understatement! What you do is criminal. It's a crime against God, against nature, against yourself. Until you stop cheating yourself, you will always be a criminal. So, yeah, all your family and anyone else you got hoodwinked will say what a good girl you are, but we'll know differently. We know, don't we, Debby?"

_________________________________

So I just got to tell you, Goodbye

The Traveling Hobo

Sociology is always a hot topic in the homeless community. Hardship makes you think. So when I met a Romanian fellow with plenty of hot sports opinions, we hit it off well. He was a Traveler and his current destination was Connecticut. I would hate to have to be a Traveler, it doesn't suit my mentality. But Travelers hate to stay put.

I told my passing friend of my novel, I tried to explain it as thus: "It's about a guy who is extremely successful in his banking job and is becoming even more successful. But it is killing him inside. So he has to decide if he's to risk everything he has - his money, his marriage, his place in the world - to set things right or to continue on the path that's killing him."

The Hobo's response was direct: "So, why do you feel that way?"

He knew instantly I was talking about myself (all books are about the author) even though obviously I am not a successful banker. But he asked an honest question so I gave an honest answer: "Because I feel that way."

"Good answer. Good answer."

His political views were a curious mixture: he was a Republican Communist. He clearly loved America and reminded me of the lines in the Godfather spoken to the immigrant Bonasera:

VITO CORLEONE: We've known each other many years, but this is the first time you came to me for counsel, for help. I can't remember the last time that you invited me to your house for a cup of coffee, even though my wife is godmother to your only child. But let's be frank here: you never wanted my friendship. And uh, you were afraid to be in my debt.

BONASERA: I didn't want to get into trouble.

VITO CORLEONE: I understand. You found paradise in America, had a good trade, made a good living.

Like many who've found "paradise in America", he ended up subscribing to the ways of greed (like any good Republican). Concern number one was keeping his goodies. He talked of the need to secure our borders from people who would do us harm. I told him that was no solution because those who wish to get in will one way or the other (he agreed).

"It's like fire-proofing your house without ever trying to stop the cause of the fires."

"But how do you convince 1.6 billion people who want to destroy you?"

"You don't. They have to be responsible for themselves."

"So what do we do? Nothing?"

"It's like ancient Isreal. When they were with God they were safe. When they turned their backs they were screwed regardless. I just think it's silly to try and make an entire country a fortress."

He then went on to confess he was a Communist, but he agreed with more of the idea of it than any alleged practice of it he had seen. His view of America was one only an outsider could have (thus matching mine): "People talk about the great freedom in America and it's true but the financial tyranny here is worse than any other country in the world."

Well, he was preaching to the choir there. "Exactly!" I concurred. "There's a reason we are the most violent nation."

We also saw eye to eye on religion. "The thing about religion, you see, is that it comes from men-"

"Yes! One of the strongest human desires is to have God's approval. We make up rules for that approval and then pretend we have it."

We were at odds on the war, though. He was for the war - pretty much any war - thinking like most Americans it's the best way to keep the good life going. He even went so far as to say the Vietnam war accomplished a lot of good. "In my country we were rooting for America to stop communism." I saw the "Killing Fields" , we stopped nothing. He thought we pulled out too early.

In discussing the Vietnem war, he got the most keyed up. Edgy to begin with, I really sensed a streak of violence, like something was eating on him. In arguing we pulled out too early, he tried to ask me how many people died each year on our highways (it's about the same as Vietnam deaths). You really have to feel backed into a corner to make that sort of desperate comparison. I don't know how big it is, but there is a bomb waiting to go off in that guy.

He really enjoyed the conversation. He said religion and politics are things you cannot discuss civilly in America (no kidding!). My only outlet is here and the occasional conversation like this one. My friend was even more pent up. As a traveller, he was always dependent on the kindness of strangers.

Sitting On a Toilet

Sitting on a toilet I have no time. Taking up space That is not mine. Always hunting A place to be; Your expectations Are never me. I've dreamed of life Upon the moon. I've dreamed of living The silver spoon. I think of life In mountain caves, And envy the safety Of being brave. If I live on Ten thousand years, Look in this spot I'll still be here. The longing ache; A woman's breast. To lay down my head For eternal rest. Seeking refuge; There's none outside me. But will I find it With none inside me?