Between Darkness & Light

That seems to be where I find myself these days.  Look, you two regular readers know that I’ve been pretty happy of late – and it is true – I have been. 

I suppose it is a test of faith when one hears that his son will be in Afghanistan within three weeks.  It surely is, and I’m still not sure I can pass the test.  I struggle daily with fear – fear for his safety, fear for what could happen and how if something were to happen, what smothering, choking blackness it would rain down upon my wife and me.  Such matters are really just too terrible to contemplate, yet those very thoughts constantly weigh on my mind.  Some nights I wake up and think about my son being shot or maimed, or captured, and I do not go back to sleep. 

Words often fail me.  Such is the case now.  There is much I wish to say, yet I’m not sure I can find the words.  Worse, I’m not sure I want to see my thoughts written.  Somehow, if I write them out, it seems like I’m giving my doubts too much credit. 

I wish I had something profound for you – some insightful way in which to tell you how I know, in the end, everything will be all right.  Maybe it will be, and maybe it won’t.  Caught between darkness & light. 

Oh Just All Kinds of Stuff!

My soldier son, Tim, is coming home tomorrow!  Yay!  He will be here for three and a half weeks!  Two weeks will be spent helping one of the local recruiters.  The last ten days he took leave and will be all ours.  He took that leave because he believes that he will be deployed to Afghanistan as soon as he arrives at his new station - Fort Benning, Georgia. 

I'm so proud of Tim.  It is weird for me, because I absolutely did not want him in the U.S. Army (or any service), but it is what he chose to do, and I could not convince him otherwise.  He did this all on his own.  In fact, I discouraged him from joining.  Yet, here we are.  Honestly, I do not condone these present wars and feel that the U.S., or any country for that matter, should only go to war as a last resort, and only when directly threatened.  With our lying politicians, one never knows what the truth is these days. 

On our addition of solar power to the house.  It is good!  It took almost two weeks into August for our local power company to finally get out and install the electric meter capable of reading power back into the grid, so August will end up not being a good gauge of how much money the solar power will save us, but I promise I will let you know as soon as I have solid data. 

My walk with our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ:  I have grown.  My wife has grown.  We pray together every single night.  We never did that before my fall some ten years ago.  I'm not sure I have ever been more happy than I am right now.  We have seen SO MUCH answered prayer over the past few months.  It grieves me to no end that I tried to live ten years of my life as an agnostic. 

Politics.  I have, lately, discovered that I am a man without a political party.  I truly believe in the Jeffersonian vision that our society should offer a quality education to every single one of us.  Additionally, I believe that a just and merciful society should provide some basic level of health care for all of its citizens.  I really like Ron Paul, but he is not the total answer.  I don't know that anyone ever will be "the total answer."

So, told you this blog was all over the place!  And I could ramble on (lots of stuff happening) but I won't.  I hope you readers are well - all two of you!  :-)

Drama in Real Life - Lost in the High Desert

(Author note: I wrote this for a facebook page I started for my friend, Tim.  Tim and his father were killed in a housefire a few years ago.)

Tim and I used to quail hunt on the back side of the China Lake ranges. We'd get there by driving north up 395 to the Death Valley turn off. Turning right, we'd cross the several-miles-long-edge of Owen's Lake, heading east, then turn right again and head south for a few miles to yet another right turn – which was an non-descript, typical, unmarked dirt road that led some miles back into wild country called Centennial Springs. There was an old miner’s shack up there, and we’d move into that for a day or two. It had a crude, flimsy table built into the back wall, and an even cruder fireplace, but it was all serviceable – made doubly so by our youth and any opportunity to escape the suburbs.

The quail hunting was usually good up there on the plateaus - plateaus made mostly of volcanic rocks piled up from some long ago volcanic explosion. The whole area was once volcanically active, and we were literally walking and hunting on ancient, pyroclastic flows. The vegetation consisted mostly of creosote bushes. The occasional sage brush lent a clean, appealing smell to the air.

I know a couple of things about this trip that can help date it. I can date it to 1977 because I had my brand new shotgun my pop gave me for my 16th birthday. Now, my birthday is in late September, and as you’re going to hear in a minute, we got cold up there hunting, so it was probably late October or maybe even November. I don’t remember exactly when quail season is out there in California, so I can’t date this trip exactly. There were some patches of snow on the ground during this trip, so it might have even been December or early 1978.

Anyhow, get to it, John! OK, I am.

After arriving and setting up the shack, we had a meal and then set out on a hunt. The way I remember it, we didn’t see any quail. But, as we scoured the high plateaus looking for them, it got late, and we had miscalculated the time the sun set - or more likely just weren't paying close enough attention to the matter.  Hey, we were young and had shotguns and had quail to hunt. Planning sunset time was not our strong suit. Anyhow, as it is wont to do during the winter, dusk made its appearance with little warning. We started for the camp, but got caught coming down a very steep cliff face – in the dark – with patches of snow here and there. Not. Good.

We literally had to feel our way down this slope. Tim was our guide. He was a bit older, and pretty much a big brother to me. We finally found our way down. (Later, once in daylight, I figured out that I had scarred up the wood on the butt of my shotgun as I used it as a makeshift cane while coming down that steep, rocky slope.) Tim kept encouraging us (my little brother was along too) the whole way down.

Once down, we had another problem. It was so dark that we really couldn’t tell in what direction we should walk. We found a dirt road, but had no way in which to orient ourselves to our camp’s direction. Tim to the rescue. He said, “I’m not 100% sure, but I think we need to go this direction.” He pointed, but we couldn’t see where he was pointing. Yep, it was that dark. He started off, and we followed. We had no choice but to walk slowly as we just could not see but a few feet in any direction. Coyotes were howling nearby and it was cold. We walked on. I think Tim was part Indian (seriously, I think he was part Indian), as he kept walking and saying stuff like, “Come on. I know the way. We’ll get back. Just keep following me.” Then, “I know we are going the right way.” We all shivered and kept walking. Soon we came to a fork in the dirt road we were walking. Tim said, “I know where we are. Camp is this way.”

Yeah, we found our way back – thanks to Tim. He never panicked. My brother and I got a little scared coming down that rocky slope in the dark. And then again when trudging that dirt road in the pitch black, but Tim stayed cool (literally) and got us back.

He was a natural outdoorsman. He loved to hunt and be in the mountains. I miss our hunting trips. I still have that model 1200 Winchester my dad gave me for my birthday. It sits in the corner of my bedroom. A shotgun is the best home defense weapon one can put forth. Every time I see those scars in the wood of the butt-stock, I think of that trip up to those cold, high plateaus. I think of Tim and his confidence and leadership in getting us down the slope and back to the warmth of that miner’s shack.

We ate some Dinty Moore stew for supper, and as a warm fire crackled in the shack’s fireplace, we had a good laugh and made like we weren’t scared out there in the cold dark. That night, we slept well in our hand-me-down, World War II, G.I. issue sleeping bags.

Hey, Hey - I got something to say!

It is strange living in a house with no children.  Once my last son left for the Army, it sure got quiet around here.  I'll tell you something else too.  It got cheaper.  And we make a whole lot less trash.  This past Tuesday when I took the can down to the road for pick up, there was two sacks of garbage in the can. 

We went totally solar last week.  We invested in solar power, solar hot water, and had a solar attic fan installed.  We actually have enough solar electricity to turn the JEA meter backwards.  I figured, what with the cost of power guaranteed to never go down, why not spend $25,000 now.  I borrowed (at 3%) $20,000, and put down in cash the rest.  So, for a few years, I'll be paying $350 a month to pay back the loan.  In effect, I've guaranteed my power costs for years. 

I'll let you know how it all turns out once we start getting JEA bills.

Still Breathing

Hello, reader(s)!  So, how are you?  I hope everything is going well with you.  No blog from me for a long time.  I can't explain it.  Well, I guess I can, but it makes no sense to me.  You know, I once wrote and had published a novel.  It's still around too.  If you knew my name, you could find it on Amazon.  Yet, here I am - barely able to write a few paragraphs for an almost unread blog.  In the final analysis, I guess I just have not felt like writing.  My second book has been "in-work" for 5 years now.  It was exactly 5 years ago, almost to the day, that my first novel was published and released. 

I'm OK.  Really.  I'm still recovering from the trauma of last summer, but I am much better.  If you wish to know what I mean, read the blogs below from about a year ago. 

I believe that I have found my place within Christianity.  I'll explain more later. 

Eventually...

Eventually, I should write a new blog.  It's been too long.  I promise my best blogging is ahead of me!

Driving Mr. Timothy

Howdy. 

My son graduates from basic training in a few days.  We're driving to Columbia, South Carolina to watch the ceremony.  After that he goes to Huntsville, Alabama to begin his EOD training.  He'll be there for about 11 weeks.  Following that, he goes to Eglin Air Force Base to complete his EOD training.  He'll be at Eglin for about 7 months. 

Interestingly enough, the EOD school at Eglin is run by the Navy.  All four service branches send their EOD candidates through this school.  Navy SEALs attend this same school.  It is very demanding training.  Apparently, EOD folks are considered an elite branch of service. 

My son called today, and of course it was wonderful to hear from him.  He now says he wants to go Airborne after his EOD training.  I'm all for it in that I want him to do what he wants to do.  I still wish he had not went into the military, but he has and I can't do anything about it.  I figure he might as well be with the more elite groups.  That way he is with people that want to be there.  I'd rather the guy watching his back is a guy that wants to be there.  Know what I mean? 

I've turned him over to God.  In fact, I've turned it all over to God.  I can worry myself to death over all of the crazy things going on in this world, or I can draw on my faith that God has it all under control.  I believe God does have it all under control - down to the levels of particles so small that physicists can only infer they are there via the effects they have on the stuff they can prove is there. 

So, that's where I am these days.  I'm looking forward to the trip to South Carolina.  We're going to bring him home for a couple of days, and then drive him up to Huntsville next Saturday.  Our current understanding is that he has to report by Sunday evening.  It's going to be a busy week.  Wish me luck!  And if you pray - pray for Tim's safety, and while you're at it, send one up for us as we travel around 1500 miles in the span of five days.

Well...

Hey, look at me.  Blogging.  What has it been - almost five months? 

I'm OK, but today is a rough day.  My son, home from the Army on Christmas leave, goes back to the Army later today.  I'm super grateful for the time we have had with him.  Let me assure you that his leaving doesn't get any easier just because we've been through this before.  A friend told me recently that it never gets any easier.  That was not what I wanted to hear - but I know she was just telling me the truth as she has lived it. 

Honestly, I have not felt motivated to write anything - and that for a long time.  That's pretty strange for a so-called writer.  I wish I could explain it, but I just can't.  Sometimes there is just nothing to say, or it is just better not to say anything.

But I want you to know that I'm going along pretty well.  I have made the decision to move beyond believing.  Let me explain.  I've always sort of known that there are two levels to being a Christian.  There is the believing level - a critical level for sure - and then there is the discipleship level.  I have made the decision to be a disciple.  I made that decision on December 6th.  Since that day, I have been under relentless spiritual attack.  I'm not so sure I ever really believed in the devil, or all of the things that I had heard and read about this malovent spiritual being, but I do very much believe now.  

But my promise to you is that I will never be an offensive Christian.  I will never judge you if you do not believe.  In fact, if you're reading this, and you do not believe, I want to be your friend.  I will not bring up Christianity with my every sentence when I come and comment on your blog.  Here on my blog, I will blog whatever is on my heart - you can read or not - but I promise to be your friend and to be circumspect with how I approach you and your blog.  If you pray, please pray for my son's safety.  His name is Timothy - or Tim if you prefer.  Thank you for reading.

Lost in a Strange World

So, it has been almost two months since my last blog. And that was my last blog - truly. I have not blogged at any of the few blogs I maintain, and the last blog you see here, was not posted anywhere else but here.

How am I doing? Better. It turns out that Ambien (a prescription sleep aid) was destroying my emotions, and towards the end, my mental state. It's hard to explain, but if you're really interested, do a Google sometime on the side-effects of Ambien CR. Make sure to include the "CR," which is for "Controlled Release." That is some evil stuff. At least for me it is. Understand that drugs affect different people differently. Ambien CR jacked me up something fierce. I could not understand why I was so emotional. I couldn't keep from crying whenever I thought of my youngest son going off to the Army, and my oldest one moving out and getting married. Anyhow, there really is MUCH more to this story than I'm going to bother with here. You're already bored anyway. Just trust me when I say that Ambien and Johnny D. do not mix. I am, apparently, one of about 3% of the population that has a terrible reaction to that stuff. Oh well, "Live & learn," as they say.

One thing that I will speak to that came out of this story (as noted above in the "there really is MUCH more to this story") is how I began, again, to take the idea of God with some seriousness. Some of you may have read past blogs here and noted my thinly veiled (and sometimes outright) hostility toward God, or Gods, or supreme beings in general. Well, when one is so far down in the dumps that suicide actually begins to look like a bright idea, one can actually seriously begin to ponder the idea of a supreme being - at least that is how it went for me. Please understand that I never actually pulled a pistol out, loaded it and pointed it at my head. I did not. There were a couple of times while trying to get off the Ambien that I felt like a bullet would certainly make the withdrawals more acceptable and the hallucinations a bit more palatable. There were also times (and there still are) that I wish the sun would begin to burn out and swell into a super-giant and burn the earth to a cinder. Such a fate is, if one believes current scientific thought about the matter, our planet's supposed destiny in a few billions years.

To cut to the chase, I picked up my Bible - a book I used to be intimately familiar with, but had not opened in some ten years, and began to read Acts. Then I read Luke. And then Ephesians. Then Galatians. Then I read huge sections of John's gospel. Then I read Acts again. Then I read some chapters in Acts again, and again - and then some more - and I'm still reading Acts. I've always loved history, and I love the history found in Acts. I love the genuine feel of the early church, and I could read Acts chapter 2 (especially the last half) a million times and not get enough. Same goes with the later chapters where Paul's three missionary journies are chronicled.

And I really have no idea what this means for me. One thing I do know is that I can never go back to being a regular church-goer. I can't do that, and I do not think I can be persuaded to. What I read in Acts in no way resembles what we now call church. If I were to go to any church, it would be a house church, and it would be very practical. Anyhow, I'm getting side-tracked here, and do not really wish to go into church or any of the other subjects one could get off into.

I just want to say that in my reading, I find Jesus of Nazareth to be a very compelling figure. How else can one look at or explain a man that was born dirt-poor and never wandered more than a hundred miles or so from his place of birth - yet had such an effect upon the planet? Has anyone ever had such an effect? I don't think so. Muhammad might be giving Jesus a run for his money, but in thinking about it, he still has a long way to go.

Anyway, in my reading of Jesus' words, there is just something there that rings true to me. Could it be my western sensibilities and prejudices? I suppose. Still, there is just something there in those words that strikes me straight in the solar-plexus. What is it about the man? How could an itinerant preacher with no money and no prospects totally change the world? FOR 2000 years? Lots of folks met their end on a Roman gibbet, but none of them changed an entire world - except Jesus. How is that?

Like many things, this is so hard for me. My rational mind wants to reject religion, but there is that nagging feeling that rejecting religion and rejecting Jesus are two different things. Jesus said somewhere in my reading of the gospels something like, "If you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can tell this tree to be uprooted and throw itself into the sea." I don't have that much faith - not even as much as a mustard seed's worth. I have maybe a hundreth of a mustard seed's worth. There's an almost imperceptible flame burning in my heart. It's not even right to call it a flame. It's more like the glow of the wick as you blow the candle out. It may relight, and it may die off and turn cold. But it is there, and I think someone or something is fanning the glow and trying to make a flame.

I don't feel as if I have to hurry and make any decision about any of this. I need to figure out who I truly am before I do anything. You'd think that at my age, I'd have that figured out, but I really do not, and this has become clear to me over the past few months. I tend to jump into things "whole-hog," as I did with Christianity in the past. There's no middle-ground for me, apparently. I could go on and chronicle the things I've gone off into, but I will not. I'll look for your thoughts and comments and we'll go from there. Thanks for reading.

Days Of Nothing & Everything - Fortified with Erasure!

Howdy. Valance, I didn't really care for that last post, and so that explains why I removed it. It was about meditation, and how meditation seems to have helped me cope with events of late. It just was not that great of a post, so I took it down. But I do want you to know that I'm not ashamed at all of doing the meditation thing. It is a good thing, and one thing I need to do with the concept is: MORE.

I dropped my twenty-year-old son off at the Army recruiter's office today. This is entirely of his doing, and if anything, I have DISCOURAGED him from joining the military. Anyhow, he's going through the "process" and has to spend the night somewhere and then get a physical in the morning. I figure it's just part of the weeding process.

So many things are going through my mind, and I have to tell you - many of those things piss me right the fuck off. Between my income and my wife's, we make around $140,000 a year. That ain't chump change, but it ain't enough for me to say to my son, "Boy, why don't you just try and get into a university? I'll pay for it." I can't pay for it without incurring debt, and I'm about as anti-debt as an American can get these days - and that ain't saying much. By way of side-information that is critical (in my opinion) to you making an informed judgement regarding those last few sentences - we have almost no debt. No car payments. No credit cards. We do have a mortgage payment and utilities. Yet, sending my son to university and paying the bills would cause us to incur debt. What a grand system the money-changers have erected!

And it pisses me right the fuck off. You don't know me, and you never will (most likely) but I can say with some measure of comfort and truth - I'm a decent person. I don't fuck over people. I don't lie. I don't steal. I pay ALL of my taxes, I served almost 8 years in the military, I work hard at my job, and again, I don't fuck people over - because I'm a HUGE believer in "What goes around comes around."

Yet, here I am.

I don't watch much TV, but in the occasional channel-surf, I do catch bits and pieces of weird shit like "Real Housewives of New York." I watched a few minutes of this just earlier today, and one of the "housewives" was bitching about how she won't get up and feed her baby because she needs her sleep. She's got a nanny, and a maid, and a gardener, and I guaran-fucking-tee you her children won't be off joining the U.S. Army because they (the children) are fucking restless and mommy and daddy don't want to incur too much debt. On the contrary, for having appeared on the TV show, the kids will be pampered and have their asses kissed for many years to come. And you fucking morons that watch that sort of shit and smile and mentally masturbate will be the reason why. Well, before I forget, fuck you.

So, I ask you: where the fuck did I go wrong? What am I not doing right? Am I not working hard enough? I don't kiss ass, so you can kiss mine if you want to make the suggestion that I should.

And I tell you - this country is fucked. As hard as it is for me to admit that, the truth must be known. We are fucked. You better believe it - because when people like me; honest, hard-working, no-bullshit, tax-paying citizens say we are fucked - you better believe it - we are fucked. And I'll tell you something else, I don't care anymore. The universe is about to barf out this fucked up piece of shit world, and it looks like we're going to get a front-row seat. What a fuck-job we are. If humanity is the universe's attempt at sentience, then the attempt is a major failure. Greed, avarice, hatred, fucking over everyone in sight (including family members), lying and stomping on other folk's to get ahead - on and on. We deserve to be erased, and honestly, as hard as it is for me to admit it - I am seeing our erasure as necessary and right and good. Why shouldn't I? What are we gonna do after we fuck this planet up? Go to Mars? Ever hear of the "Gulf Of Oil"? If, by some miracle, we should be capable of moving to a place like Mars, WE WILL FUCK IT UP TOO.

Erasure. Bring it.

Childish Thoughts of a China Laker

As a young boy, I had the best life. You old China Lakers that read here, you know what I mean. Growing up at China Lake in the way and in the time that we grew up will never be repeated in quite the same way. In fact, I'd say it won't ever be replicated - unless there is some other world in another solar system populated with a civilization that is in a similar sort of place (technically & socially) as we were back in those days.

You know what we were - and I speak to my fellow China Lakers here - we were protected. We had miles and miles of high desert and mountains between us and the nearest city of any size. But more than that, we had a special time in that most of us had both parents raising us. Mom stayed home and Dad went to work making, designing, building and thinking about rockets and missiles and bombs. And they worked hard too. Remember when government workers were proud of what they did and of their contributions to the nation, and in our case - to the Navy? They were genuinely proud of the fact that they could take a concept like a heat-homing rocket and turn it into the Sidewinder. And they turned Sidewinder (and many other bits of Navy ordnance history) out in record time. They did it because they loved their jobs, their base, their quiet, little, isolated city in the desert. And they cared for each other. They did. They really did.

I remember the softball games. My dad was a good fast-pitch softball player. He played in the base league for years and years, and I looked forward to going to the ballfield and watching him and the other Bud Eyre Chevrolet players go at their next "victim." And while I liked watching my dad play, after the game when all the adults gathered in front of the beer hut (see my photo spread here called "China Lake Windshield Tour") for a cold beer was a special time for us kids. We'd run the field and tumble and fall in the grass and just generally mess around and have a good time. Nobody cared, and we never hurt each other or had any worries on those cool desert nights. The Milky Way glowed and looked down upon us and our fragile dreams, and we all just knew those dreams would come true as we raced across the outfield. I swear back in those days it seemed like I was running 100 miles-per-hour as the cool grass flashed under my bare feet. For those of you that didn't grow up in the high Mojave Desert, a big field of grass was a special treat for us kids that did grow up there.

I remember games of hide & go seek on Intrepid Road. Big games too - I'm talking 20 kids. We had rules, and we played for fun, but we took it seriously. I remember coming in to Mom's call of, "John, David, time for supper!" We ate together back in those days. Then we'd get a bath, and then I remember watching Cronkite on TV talking about how many Americans were killed in Vietnam on that particular day. We had something like 3 channels back in 1968. But I damn sure got to see Neil Armstrong walk on the moon in the heat of the summer of 69.

Another great memory are the All Saints Chapel's Catholic Parish Picnics. My dad was drafted for many years to lead and organize the picnic. And it was a huge affair. At least 200 people would come to the picnic - in those days it was held at Inyokern Park - and the planning and putting on of the picnic was no easy task. On the day of the picnic, I got to help set-up, and the morning of the picnic started very early. All of the various accoutrements one needs for such an affair had to be gathered, driven to Inyokern Park and put into place. Grills, kegs of beer, racks of burger and dog buns, condiments for burgers and dogs, plates and forks and knives and napkins, side dishes, many tables and chairs, on and on. The food had to be cooked and served, sack races and other games had to be run (the competition was fierce), and the good times carried on into the night. I LOVED the Parish Picnic.

I guess more than anything, I remember the desert and hunting lizards and snakes and roadrunners and coyotes and all the critters we had that roamed the high Mojave. I remember being but maybe 8-years old and climbing B-Mountain with equally-aged friends. By ourselves! Nobody cared. Mom wasn't worried. "Keep an eye out for Sidewinders (the snake, not the missile)." And we did - and we saw or heard one - more often than not.

Of course I remember so many other things. Things like twenty-five cent movies, sonic booms, the Triangle Sport Shop, Sprouse Reitz, Corney's Shoes, every one of my elementary school teachers at Richmond (and Mrs. Dye at Las Flores), The Malt Shop, The Shopping Bag, the base gym and pool. What memories of swimming at the outdoor pool up by the officer's barracks! Shady and cool, and an absolutely PACKED snack bar. As big as that pool was (I'm talking Olympic-sized), I can remember many times where it was almost standing room only in the water.

I've always been proud to have been a "China Laker." The Navy's secret city in the high Mojave gave each of us a taste of a life that will never again be duplicated, and I'd argue, equaled. Of course I'm idealizing and romanticizing our time there, but only a little. Once in awhile someone would steal a bicycle, or break a neighbor's window. And we all know people had affairs and drank too much. It wasn't perfection, but I know this much - it was as close to perfection as humans can get - and it was reflected in the azure sky that went on forever. And I leave you with this final & cherished memory I have of lying in the grass in our front yard on Intrepid Road - just lying there and looking up and wondering. (How many kids do you see doing that these days?) I remember lying there and looking as far as I could into the deep blue and almost being able to see the black of space while thinking, "What is up there? It is so blue and mysterious and so close and so far away and so beautiful." And the possibilities seemed like the sky - endless and bright and hopeful.

Smedley Butler? Can you spend two minutes gaining wisdom?

From a speech by General Smedley Butler. General Butler is one of the most decorated Marines of all time.

“War is just a racket. A racket is best described, I believe, as something that is not what it seems to the majority of people. Only a small inside group knows what it is about. It is conducted for the benefit of the very few at the expense of the masses.

I believe in adequate defense at the coastline and nothing else. If a nation comes over here to fight, then we'll fight. The trouble with America is that when the dollar only earns 6 percent over here, then it gets restless and goes overseas to get 100 percent. Then the flag follows the dollar and the soldiers follow the flag.

I wouldn't go to war again as I have done to protect some lousy investment of the bankers. There are only two things we should fight for. One is the defense of our homes and the other is the Bill of Rights. War for any other reason is simply a racket.

There isn't a trick in the racketeering bag that the military gang is blind to. It has its "finger men" to point out enemies, its "muscle men" to destroy enemies, its "brain men" to plan war preparations, and a "Big Boss" Super-Nationalistic-Capitalism.

It may seem odd for me, a military man to adopt such a comparison. Truthfulness compels me to. I spent thirty- three years and four months in active military service as a member of this country's most agile military force, the Marine Corps. I served in all commissioned ranks from Second Lieutenant to Major-General. And during that period, I spent most of my time being a high class muscle- man for Big Business, for Wall Street and for the Bankers. In short, I was a racketeer, a gangster for capitalism.

I suspected I was just part of a racket at the time. Now I am sure of it. Like all the members of the military profession, I never had a thought of my own until I left the service. My mental faculties remained in suspended animation while I obeyed the orders of higher-ups. This is typical with everyone in the military service.

I helped make Mexico, especially Tampico, safe for American oil interests in 1914. I helped make Haiti and Cuba a decent place for the National City Bank boys to collect revenues in. I helped in the raping of half a dozen Central American republics for the benefits of Wall Street. The record of racketeering is long. I helped purify Nicaragua for the international banking house of Brown Brothers in 1909-1912. I brought light to the Dominican Republic for American sugar interests in 1916. In China I helped to see to it that Standard Oil went its way unmolested.

During those years, I had, as the boys in the back room would say, a swell racket. Looking back on it, I feel that I could have given Al Capone a few hints. The best he could do was to operate his racket in three districts. I operated on three continents.”

Under The Sun

"There's nothing new under the sun." I probably shouldn't put that in quotes - even though it is fairly faithful to what the writer of Ecclesiastes penned some 2500 years or so ago.

And there really is not anything "new under the sun." It has all been said before.

We're rats on a sinking ship. All of us. We really do not want to admit we're on a sinking ship. I know. I think it sucks too. But you're born a rat on a sinking ship. You will die. So will I. It is just the way of things. Smother that truth with your religion or what have you, but just as sure as the sun came up this morning, we will join every other human in the history of the world. And die. Some of you relish death. Some of you abhor it. Some of you do not believe the reaper will ever come for you. I know. I think it sucks too.

Right here is where I should probably insert some tired, well-worn, pithy, cliché-driven sentence that goes something like, "But hey! In truth, everything is peachy-keen! Just believe in "X" and all will be well."

Fuck that. It's not true. Your life is only going to be as good as you make it. Same with mine. Waiting around for someone or somebody to come and, "save me," or "turn things around," or "make it all better," is a fairy-tale, childish fantasy. That shit don't wash.

If you are not now, someday soon you will be very disappointed in human-kind. We had such opportunity. So much potential. Honesty. Honesty, a gracious spirit, and a self-smothering of our human tendency toward pride. Controlling those triplets of human vexation was the minimum requirement. We have failed.

Greed. Lies. Vanity. The destroyer of worlds. Where would we be if we had lowered ourselves? Each of us. Humbled ourselves - each of us? What if we all cared about each other more than we cared about ourselves? Where would we be? Such potential. Don't think you can rescue it and bring it around. It will take fire and destruction. Just as a forest is burned into ashen hulks - only to arise a new green field - so it will be with humanity. You've all heard how those that do not study history are doomed to repeat it. That is not a cliché brought about by some ancient sage with nothing better to say. It is an axiomatic truth - and soon you will know as much - just as sure as the sun will rise tomorrow.

Money has become our chief focus. Ah, money. Scribes before me have cried her siren-song. So many have loved her and hated her. Writers after me will lament her seductive ways. But she is just a tool. Greed. Lies. Vanity. The chief components of Us. We have seen the enemy, and he is me - you - us.

It will not change until the fire has passed. And then generations will come and go. And run the same course.

"Lather, rinse, repeat."

There ain't nothing new under the sun.

Truth or Consequences

As I look over my life – or my life since becoming an independent adult – I have come to the conclusion that life is a bitch. A real, true bitch. And then you die.

You know what really just sucks about that? It doesn’t have to be this way.

Sometimes I really and truly do not feel like carrying on anymore. I do though, because I don’t wish to leave my wife and family with the pain that “pulling the trigger” would cause. It’s not fair to them. Suicide is like that – it is a very selfish act.

I have to admit that I do find the thought of not having to deal with pain and suffering to be very inviting. But it is so much more than that.

Truth is dead. I suppose that here and there one can still find pockets of truth. But these days, people have gone so far as to tell themselves lies. Don’t believe me? “I can charge this and pay it back later.”

Yep, truth is dead. Whether I’m dealing with individuals, institutions, or government, lies are the order of the day. But nobody really gives a shit.

Many of us say we do, but we don’t really care. I know this, because nothing ever changes. We never do the hard work to find the truth. We just accept the bullshit we’re told, and then we move on and watch more TV. Or charge more junk we don’t need. Or eat more food we don’t need. Or take more drugs we don’t need. Or have sex with our hot neighbor or coworker.

Name your vice.

We get pissed off and shout down and vote out the current political party in charge – never bothering to figure out both parties are two sides of the same coin. It’s a mirage, a bunch of bullshit meant to give you the illusion you have some degree of control. You do not. Your country is a government by the plutocracy, for the plutocracy, of the plutocracy. But you don’t really care. You’ll argue with me instead of bothering to figure out what’s happened to your country.

Liberty, to most of you, means being able to buy more cheap, imported shit from Walmart. What it does not mean, to you, is “The tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to time with the blood of patriots and tyrants.” 90% of you have no idea who said that, and you won’t even bother to find out. Don’t feel too bad – I don’t want to give up my life for a bunch of lazy, lying, murdering fucks either.

Don’t forget, American Idol is on tonight. And to hell with your mortgage – the government will pay it. Save money? Are you fucking crazy? I just bought a big, power-sucking TV, and I’m going to watch some sweet porn on it.

So… I guess we get what we get.

MOVING ON

I went into my oldest son’s bedroom this morning to shut off his alarm clock. He’s got it set so that when he does sleep here at home, it comes on automatically each morning. Unfortunately, he doesn’t stay here much anymore. He’s engaged to a bright, sweet, young woman that I liked instantly when we met, and he pretty much spends all his free time with her. I am so very happy for both of them.

I sat down on his bed in order to facilitate the securing of his alarm clock. A simple matter really – just a press of the right button. I found that button and put an end to the radio voice. Silence quickly took hold of the room – the only noise being the hum of his computer off in the corner. Sunlight filtered in through his partially open window blinds. I glanced at his desk and saw so much of his life there. His music, some DVD’s, envelopes and paper, hand-written notes to himself and even a few boxes of .45 ammunition. There was a Ghost Busters ghost and an R2D2 robot. All things that told me he’s busy, but having fun too.

His walls spoke of various facets of his life. There’s a Metallica poster or two, drawings made by his friends, name-tag stickers you have to wear when you go to the gun range, a note from his great-grandmother telling him to seize life and kick its ass (not in those words, but you get the idea). There are posters from computer games and there are also things related to Kung Fu.

His book shelves are loaded with books of every stripe and fashion. Science-Fiction, Japanese & Chinese language books, novels, self-help, National Geographic, on and on. It’s really hard to describe – you just have to see it. On his dresser are a massive sword and some other Chinese martial arts accoutrements. There are statues and toys still in their boxes (he collects that sort of thing). There’s a fighting spear in one corner of his room, and right across from that is all of his massage-therapy stuff (he went to school and got his license). On one bookshelf is his tea-making stuff. There’s tea and an electric water heater.

To look into and visit Paul’s room is to see the boy that became a teenager and then a man. Memories, good memories, sluiced over and through my thoughts like the sunlight that dappled his bedspread and the carpet beyond it – lighting the silence and the memories as they tugged at my heart. And then, even though they were thoughts I didn’t want, they crept in – silent killers of happy thoughts. I tell myself all of the time to live my life with no regrets, but I can’t seem to forget over-disciplining him, or not spending enough time with him. I should have taught him more about working on cars and hunting. I taught him to fish pretty well, and I taught him how to shoot and handle a pistol, so there is that. Yet, no matter how I carve it up in my mind, I will never, ever get quite the same chance to make up for those things in which I failed.

Simultaneously, it was both satisfying and very difficult to sit there in his room and think upon these things. Just like writing this has proven to be. Those of you that have had children move on; you know what I felt and feel. It’s like when you hear that old Harry Chapin song, Cat’s in the Cradle. You just know, and you have to check yourself.

But I have to move on. We all do. Good luck, Paul. I love you and I promise you that raising you and your brother has been a privilege and a pleasure. I wish I could do it all over again. That you turned out as wonderful and amazing as you are is a testimony to your own inner strength and character – not my son-raising abilities. Of course, your mom had a lot to do with your up-bringing, and we both know about her character and strength. I wish you and Sam the very best, and you know that you can count on our unwavering support as you start your own family. Obviously this is not goodbye, it's just me trying to make sense out of your empty room, and the slice of my heart that feels like it doesn't want to let go.

Day's Darkness

One of the few things I like about having this "secret blog" is that my two sons do not know about it. I can come here and write about them without them knowing it. You may ask, "Why is that important to you, Johnny D?"

Because, there are some things that I just need to get off my chest. They do not need to know everything that I am thinking.

My youngest son is 19. He shows all the hallmarks of a young man trying to find himself. About six months ago it was the Marines. Well, he's had some orthodontic work done, and one result of that work is some metal in his jaw. The Marines required a waiver for that work. My son duly applied and sent in all the required information. No response. I'm not surprised, because as I saw on the news just yesterday - all of the U.S. military branches have exceeded their recruiting goals. Of course they have - the economy is all but destroyed - unless you're a state or federal employee.

Anyhow, as I said, he shows all the signs of a young man trying to find his place in the world. I want to help him, and I told him as much last evening. I said, "Son, you were going to college and didn't like your course of study. Then you tried to get into the Marines. Have you heard anything more from them?"

His reply, "No."

Me, "Are you sure, or are you just embarrassed to say they rejected you because of your dental work?"

Him, "No, Dad, I honestly have not heard one way or the other."

Me, "OK. Well, now you're talking about making Publix a career. What is that all about."

Him, "Well, I work there now, so I just thought...

Me, "Look, I want you to know that no matter what you end up doing, your mother and I are proud of you. You're a fine young man, and you give us no real trouble. Don't be in such a hurry to grow up, son. I know you're 19 now, and you're wanting to find your place in the world, but sometimes it just takes some folks a bit longer. Sure, your mom and I wish you were all fired-up about going to college and scoring some great grades, but we understand where you're coming from. I have always told you that as long as you stay out of trouble, you can stay here at home as long as you like - and I meant that. Don't be in such a hurry to grow up, son. Take as much time as you need."

He thanked me, and said, "I love you, Dad." You know how I replied, "I love you too, son." Those four words he said to me are the best. They really make my day. Yet, I walked away feeling like there was something else I could have said - some thought I could have voiced that would have made him feel better about his place in the world.

As I reflected upon our conversation, I silently cried to myself. There was nothing else left for me to do. I realized, deep in my heart, that I wanted to make the world all good for him, and the deepest part of that realization was that I could not. Ultimately, no man can do anything but his best, and then things must just work out the way they are going to work out.

I have to let him go to the world, but I must tell you - I hate the world we have created for him. It is full of liars, haters, cheaters, rapists, war-mongers, thieves, adulterers, rapists, murderers, and other unsavory characters that care only for themselves and their immediate gratification.

My son is a good young man, and he will have to sacrifice so much to have a better world. It shouldn't be him making the sacrifice. It should be me.

Saving Johnny D.

For those few of you at the Watchdog blog that have taken the time to "preach" to me regarding Christianity and your beliefs, I thank you. Yet, that blog is not the right place for that sort of thing. WD has a specific beef with FBCJ, and he uses his blog to chronicle that beef, as well as to offer and gain support from others of a like mind. If you wish to converse with me regarding your beliefs, then please do so here or through e-mail. It is not right to use WD's blog for what amounts to something that is not really related to the main purpose of his blog.

For the record, I do skim over what you all write there to me, but you must understand I have heard it all before. In fact, I have quite thoroughly studied the issues and verses and thoughts you all have brought up. When you go into preaching mode, my eyes tend to roll back in my head and I drift away. As I said, I have heard it all before. Not only have I heard it, but I believed it. Completely. You must understand that. It really is possible for someone to thoroughly and completely believe something, and then have a change of mind. You did it at least once. At some point you did not believe anything you heard about Jesus, and then at some point you changed your mind and began to believe what other humans were telling you about Jesus. Same with me - only it went both ways for me.

Let me start the discussion this way. Let us say for the sake of this discussion, you have children. Your children bad mouth you and steal your car. They are guilty. You have proof. So, you build a torture chamber in your basement and proceed to torture your children for their disobedience. You tie them up next to a hot fire, and poke them with hot irons - all because they disobeyed you - and you do this for as long as you are alive and able to do so - assuming your children live through all the torture.

I totally reject to the way you have decided to discipline your children, but you reply, "I'm their parent, and I can do whatever I want." To me, you're no different than the person that squashes a lizard just because you can. How is what your God does with eternal punishment in hell any different - with the exception of course that it is forever? How is that moral?

In The Night


Have you ever drifted off to sleep, but not quite fallen away completely?

Sure you have - it happens to all of us at one time or another. It happened to me the other night. As I fell into that zone where I was half-awake and half-asleep I had an idea. At first, it was just the barest kernel of an idea. It was a gold nugget muddied in the stream of sleep. Slowly, the sleep-sand washed away and the idea focused into beautiful clarity.

It was about seeking the truth and reporting what I find right here on my blog. It was all so clear, and so perfect, and so easy to understand. I swore to myself right there in the twilight of my almost-sleep that I'd begin working on this new and exciting project first thing in the morning. I almost snapped on the light to jot down this new crystal-clarity, but I did not.

And then, it was gone. The idea. The clarity. I got up that morning and set to my normal routine with no further thought about the perfect idea for truth-seeking. At some point during the day, I remembered the dream. But the only thing I could draw into focus was how the idea was about truth seeking.

The crystal-clear details, the brilliant gold portion of the idea - all gone. It has not returned either. My last blog - it was a blog that told you of the longing that permeates my being - a yearning for the truth. I told you of how I don't see it much anymore. I see lies everywhere, and for a long time now that has been the case. Lies from local, state and federal politicians are common-place.

We accept lies now as if they are no more important than a tick of the clock. I see lies at work out of coworkers. Lies that directly affect people's lives. I see lies from neighbors as they cheat on their spouses and pursue lifestyles they cannot possibly afford - lying to themselves about their income and their stature and their ability to keep a promise.

I don't know what my idea was in that twilight sleep-zone. It's gone. I can almost reach out and touch it in the dark, but not quite. I hope it returns to me, and that I will be wise enough to snap on the light and jot down the basics of the idea.

At the other end of things, maybe it was all a dream. Wishing for honesty and truth and goodness between us - just a dream - so I suppose it is fitting that this wonderful, bright, beautiful gold-kissed and sun-warmed idea should be just a dream. That must be what happened. There is no idea for the truth, and I lie to myself in thinking so.

I do know that we need a reset. A total, complete reset. Smashmouth has a song, Satellite, I believe. There is a lyric in that song, "You pushed the reset button on the counter of my heart," that sounds sort of silly in this context, but I believe we all need to push that reset button.

Maybe somehow help each other push it.

When in Doubt...

Write! OK, off-track title in a way. I'm not having doubts about anything other than what to blog about. So, I take my own advice and just start writing. Cheesy, headline grabbing title, I know.

Here's something. You have to care enough about me to bother to read what follows. OK, maybe that isn't fair. Maybe I just need to be interesting enough to keep you reading. Let's face it, I might have an engaging personality (arguments - do I hear arguments?) but if what follows this sentence is completely boring, you won't read. I wouldn't either.

No pretending here. I admit to wanting to write something to you - for you. Something beautiful and rich. Something like an elegant bit of music, or a fine tapestry woven with choice cloth. Something with a comforting richness - an orotund gathering of words onto electronic paper that leaves you wanting more.

Yet, all you get is me. Usually. Sometimes?

What - you still here? Good. I wanted to tell you how much I appreciate you regular readers. For a person that spends any amount of time writing, it is eminently satisfying to know there are readers reading the words. Thank you.

And now I shall tell you of great and dark secrets. It is why you have stayed this long - yes? You must know what makes the world go round. Why do things happen the way they do? That is what you wish to know. The truth is that nobody knows. Lots of people have opinions about the deeper things, but that is all they are: opinions. They can point to books, but those books were all written by other humans. They can claim those humans were guided by a god or gods, but that is only an opinion. There is no god to question. You must believe. You must have faith. You. It's always the solitary you.

Remember that. And then go and do right because right is right. Thousands of years of living together have given us the knowledge of what is right and wrong. Stealing from your neighbor might be satisfying for you personally, but it fucks up civilization. You don't have to be a scholar to recognize the wisdom in that thinking. Keep stealing and you will be selected out of civilization.

Be a friend because it is right and good - not because you might gain something from the relationship. Again, thousands of years of humans having relationships have shown the rightness in that thinking. Should you choose to be an enemy of all you meet, or an asshole in general, soon you will find yourself naturally selected out of civilization.

And the real truth is that there is only now. You are not guaranteed another minute. There are some that want you to think there is something more. "This can't be all there is, because it is a dark, cold distance in the long black, and the long black can't be all there is. We deserve more." And when you believe there is something more, it makes what you have - especially when all you have is a pile of stinking shit - something to be survived. A future of goodness and golden streets makes all this shit some of us think we suffer with now, worth the struggle. But that's a lie. You only have now. Grab now. Hold it up and examine it like the fine, multi-faceted jewel "the now" is. Breath deeply. Run with it. Don't hold out for a future based on someone's opinion. Because, no matter how they try and sell it to you, that is all it is. Opinion.

Now, I have to go and feed my lizards. You can almost stop reading now.

Some things to think about on a Sunday.

Signs & Omens

In the cool warmth of our sunlit room, my wife and I napped. Actually, she napped, I couldn’t sleep. Outside, the day was drawing to its denouement, but my mind would not rest. Her left arm was near me, and I had placed my cheek there against her upper arm while holding her hand. She breathed softly as she melted into the quiet peace of the late afternoon. I had resolved not to think of anything but the hushed dark of sleep, even so, my thoughts wandered to the deep things. I considered how the day would come when I would no longer be able to do such a simple thing as lie in bed with my wife and feel the peace and comfort of her presence.
I did not think how that day was coming – only that it would come.

Have you ever considered how the moment we’re born we begin to progress upon two paths? We begin to live while simultaneously starting the dying process. I am, and you are too – born to briefly mark an obscure sentence in a short paragraph on one page in the long history of the world. The page is turned – sometimes the page is turned when we’re ready – sometimes not.

My father is living through such things. My mother is entering into the deep-dark of Alzheimer’s. What must it be like to watch the person you have loved for 61 years have her personality – her very essence and understanding of the life she has lived with you – slowly erased? It must be terrifying. It must be a constant reminder of just how fragile and unfair life can so often be.

But that day, in the afternoon sunlight, as I stared at my wife, and then to the wall beyond her to see the leaves dancing in the thin shadows of the sun’s dying light, I knew instinctively that this was a time to treasure – a time to let sink deep into the best part of my memory.

Resting there on her arm, I could see the day when one of us would be gone. When there would be no more times to rest together. I could see the night when all that is left is memories, and the shadows having their way on the walls will be nothing more than the half-moon reflecting branches gone dead for the winter.