The Moment

The sun, bright, baking the rocky soil. Sharp spines of cactus, providing protection for the lizard hidden beneath. The chain link fence, surrounding, the wire, paint worn off by friction and blowing sand, already leaving a checkered rust stain on the top pipe.

A summer breeze blowing, hot yet cooling in its low humidity. Afternoon dust just starting to stir among the heat shimmers. The board at the bottom of the fence makes a squeak as the wind gently rubs it against supporting pipes.

In the yard, scattered plants, weeds hardy enough to survive in the shallow soil. Not many, mostly interlopers in the barrenness, scarcely containing color. Rocks everywhere. Not round, not smooth, but rough, irregular, small, composed of compacted, ancient sea shells.

A spot of green, there by the water faucet sticking up from the ground, separate from the structure it serviced. The house, moved there recently, stood like a gypsy on cinder blocks, all plumbing grafted on. A constant leak of water from the spot where a small pipe has been inexpertly spliced onto the faucet, providing unexpected life and vitality for a tangled mass of runners of johnson grass and goatheads.

The small pipe running up and across the large covered porch, into the swamp cooler squatting outside the living room window like a giant monster, posed on four long two-by-four legs, trying to get through the upper part of the window. The water, pouring down through the straw packed sides of the unit, providing cooling humidity blown inside the house.

The concrete walk, leading from the front gate to the porch. A gate, hanging crookedly, providing privacy from the mongrel dogs roaming here in the openness near the city limits. The walk, already chipping in large spots, too little concrete used in the mix, foundation rocks showing in many places, rough on bare feet.

On the porch a metal glider swing, purchased cheap at a discount store, an ugly green color with pretend white basket weave inlay etched in the metal. The afternoon wind sways the glider when it's empty, making small sounds barely audible in the house at times. All the connection points show rust, the lubricant long gone, dried up.

The door opens. A boy emerges from the darkness, cavelike, created by the tightly closed house, from the cocoon created against the heat and blowing sand which will come later. He carries a pillow, taken from his bed. Sixteen, almost to his next birthday, becoming a smaller version of the man he will eventually be.

Barefoot as usual, he steps gently on the porch, the wood planks used there splintery, the wooden slivers ready to drive into any unwary foot. But he knew the proper paths to avoid injury. He looks around briefly, drinking in his environment.

He puts the pillow in the swing and lies down, cushioning his head as best he can. His legs, short but still too long for him to fit comfortably, propped up on the edge of the glider. His weight, so sudden on the swing, sets the contrivance swinging wildly for a moment.

He lies there, a book open, lost in a world of spaceships and alien civilizations, reveling in his summer of freedom, senior year of high school approaching. The sound of water dripping down the sides of the air conditioner interrupts the words he reads, pulling him from the fantasy world. And for perhaps the first time in his life, real thought of the future intrudes.

His father had died earlier that year. His life shaken completely, a hasty move from one side of town to another. Another house, another bedroom, no place here to ride the bike he'd saved up for, all rocks and roughness, cactus spines sticking into tires.

He wanted to go to college. He needed to go to college. A kid with no thoughts of future possibilities of occupation. Depending on college to help that decision be made, to point him to his future. But how, money was not there, recognition coming that the responsibility was his.

His mind, straying further, thought of girls, marriage, children, old age. But not for long. Thoughts of future too new for him. Scarcely understanding planning, scheduling, progress, a moment to look out across the stillness around him, the unchangeability of the landscape. His eyes back to his escape, his world outside the barrenness around him.

Postscript:

Today, the house and porch gone, sold with the death of the boy's mother, moved to service another boy, perhaps. The swing and cooler long scrapped. The fence gone, parts used here and there. The sidewalk gone, except for bits and pieces, weathered and beaten down into the ground. Even the faucet gone, torn from the ground, its pipes of use elsewhere.

Amazingly the patch of grass, still there 45 years later, brown and withered, smaller, but obvious, different from all around, the only mark left of a moment in time.


[Goathead or puncture Vine: This is that obnoxious weed whose seeds are incredibly painful to step on, get tracked into your carpet, puncture your bicycle tires, and have to be pulled out of your pets' paws. The seed pod grows 4 "bullheads" or "goatheads" in a circle, when mature it breaks up into 4 separate instruments of torture. The plant is naturalized, originally from the Mediterranean. It is a pest plant wherever it resides in the US.]

Another Post

This is one of my favorite blogs, posted elsewhere previously.

There is much argument in the world concerning recent events. But to discuss them is like going for a walk in a minefield, totally unproductive. Rather than do that, I'd like to discuss a hypothetical country and a hypothetical man. This country and man might exist at any time in the past or the future. It's a story repeated over and over in variations throughout history. And after I complete the story, I'll talk about what I really want to talk about - Babylon 5.

There was a man who rose to power in his country. He was a charismatic man, a ruthless man. He spoke the words that the people wanted to hear, they harkened to his promises of more for them, of pride for them. Yet his real motives were not for the people, they were for himself. He desired position and prestige and power, things he'd never had. And there would never be enough of these to satisfy his cravings.

The man began to bring together a group of followers. They were like him, in search of power, willing to do what necessary to achieve success, impressed by the words they spoke, desiring to believe them to be true. And these men began to do even more evil in the name of unity for their nation.

Through threats, blackmail, and eventually outright violence and murder, the man and his thugs increased their power. As people saw the chaos being produced, they turned, in their ignorance, to the very man causing the chaos, they roared their need for stability. That was the signal the man had been waiting for. He took the reins of government more firmly into his hands.

To cure chaos, he needed scapegoats. He found them first inside the country. There was a group of people who seems suspicious, different. They would do. Those people were driven into hiding, fearful for their life. But the man didn't have enough power to actually eliminate this group.

With the people's permission he came to control the judiciary and with that conquest he acquired the power he needed. What was against the law? Whatever he decided. What was lawful to do? Whatever he decided. Soon the scapegoat people were pulled into camps, exterminated.

But these people were not to blame for the chaos, the man was. When chaos continued, it became necessary for him to find new scapegoats. He looked outside his country, blaming the rest of the world for all the problems of his country. The people roared for him to do something about it.

So the man began building armies. Armies and armies and more armies. The people suffered as all resources went to the army. Some complained. Some disappeared. The youth were organized, to help find these complainers, their fertile minds easily swayed to help the man gain more power.

As the man's power grew, the nations around him became alarmed. They went to the international community, complained about the increase in the country's military, showing their fearfulness. At that time intervention was possible, the man could be stopped easily.

But there arose a group of men in high places, men who said, "Who is this? We are many to his few. Do not worry, he is smart, he knows better than to try to extend his power outside his country. Let him do what he will with his own people. It is no concern of ours." And the others felt reassured.

And the man WAS smart. But he HAD to extend his power, if he did not those around him would destroy him in their own search for power. So he continued to build his armies and his rhetoric against his neighbors increased and the people of his country became more agitated, more desirous that his attention be placed on someone else.

And the other countries heard his words, saw portents of the future. And they became alarmed again, for in the peace that had held sway they had let their military dissolve, putting their resources toward improving the lot of the people. Now they had no protection. So they turned to the international community again. At that time intervention was possible, the man could be stopped. But not easily.

And the same group of people as before said, "Don't worry. It's just words. We've talked to him. He wants peace, he assures us. Don't worry."

Then the man, despite his assurances, drove his armies into the country to the south. The peaceful residents there could only watch helplessly as their country was taken, watch as their leaders were killed, watch as the pogroms began.

And the world objected. They came to speak to the man, trying to be reasonable, asking him why he had done this thing. And he said, "This land was always part of my country. It was taken from us many years ago by invaders. The people there are our people, we have liberated them." But he knew it was not true liberation, that the people had been happy with their own government. He didn't care. He cared only about himself.

And the people went away and convinced themselves that the man's words were reasonable, that his actions were reasonable. Their desire for peace made them blind to reality, made them blind to his madness.

And they said to the other countries, "Let him have this country. It is small and it is reasonable that he have it. This is all he wants, he wants no more. We will have peace again." But the other countries slept fitfully, not as assured as they might have been.

But a thirst for power cannot be content. Soon it was necessary to expand more. And the man said, "Look what these other people do with their resources. They live fat while we suffer. This is not right, they should share their wealth, but they will not. They keep prosperity from us and something must be done about it."

And the people said, "Yes, we want more, get us more." And the man drove his armies to the east, into the fertile fields and complacent people. Now, there could be no doubt to the man's intentions, no doubt that peace was not what he desired.

The other countries now looked at the military power of the man and they shook in their fear. Hastily they called their people to arms, but the time was short, for the dogs of war were loose, eating all they found unprepared. At that time intervention was possible, the man could be stopped, but at a tremendous cost.

And the cancer spread, as it will do, even after treatment is started. Only by Herculean efforts among the most powerful of nations was the man stopped. Even the effort of those nations not in direct line of the man's aggression would be required to stop him. And the world wept for the man's ambitions.

And the group of people who had spoken before said, "Peace. If we had just talked more to him, we could have had peace. The world is torn asunder because we would not talk to him more, would not compromise more, would not give more. It cannot be his fault, for only a mad man would do what he has done without provocation."

And with these words the next man obsessed with power is emboldened, pulls together a group of followers, ...

In the Babylon 5 episode I watched last night the following words were spoken:

"Babylon 5 was the last great hope for peace. We failed. Now it is the last great hope for victory. Sometimes peace is another word for surrender."

I will not surrender. If peace must be temporarily sacrificed for victory, then so be it. Only a strong response against these men will stop them. History is too full of them to let it continue. Only in this way can true peace, not surrender, be achieved.

Years ago

You know, when you get to be my age, you can sometimes be very reflective about all that's come to pass during the years. My wife gets peeved with me when I notice how much of my life lies behind me and how little before. But, than again, my genetic history doesn't have nearly as many 90-year-old's in it as her's does.

All in all, the years I've had so far have been good ones. Oh, there was the usual assortment of down times, bad events, and nasty people, but on the whole it hasn't been bad at all. A few rambling details might be in order.

I managed to miss military service during those years when it was most advantageous to do so - early 60's to early 70's. I can't imagine how to explain to those people who don't know the difference between an all-volunteer army and a conscripted one how different the Vietnam war was from the Iraqi one.

I've had 3 marriages, in two of them I loved the woman, two of them happened for the wrong reasons. Those two twosomes, by the way, don't coincide. Neither of my two divorces were my fault, although I certainly contributed to their occurrence. One of them was devastating to me because it also involved the death of many of my concepts about marriage, the other was way late in coming and was scarcely a bump in the emotions when it did.

I married the first woman I had sex with, the first woman I ever dated, as a matter of fact. I have to admit that it was such a stressful event for me, that it wasn't a complete experience for me. If you know what I mean. The dictionary definition of a nerd, I was completely bowled over with the concept that anyone would want me for me, especially physically. That, of course, was a misconception on my part, but I didn't find that out until much later.

I've had sex with only five women in my life, although I also appreciate the other two "almosts." Of the five, in only two of the cases would I qualify the sex as making love. Maybe I don't really rank high in today's world of passionate endeavors, but I appreciate those five, maybe because of their scarcity.

I've been in 4 foreign countries - Mexico, Canada, Germany, and the Bahamas. Not a great world traveler, but I've been in about 39 of the states, have lived in at least 9 of them, including Alaska. The shortest period for which I've owned a car was for two weeks - traded it off because I didn't like the hesitation in it when I pushed down on the accelerator. The fastest I've gone in a car was 120, my Chrysler 300F. I eased off when I began feeling it lifting off the road, but maybe that was just my imagination.

I have three degrees. I just didn't want to have to get out into the working world, but eventually it happened anyway. I've always enjoyed learning new things, but it seems more trouble than it's worth anymore. I've always collected trivia in my head, but a lot of it seems to be harder to get ahold of when I want it nowadays. I've loved the indoors and reading most of my life, but my eyes began to fail me - losing focus when I concentrate for longer than 30 seconds at one focal length - at about the age of 52, and I can now scarcely read short articles in magazines.

I got my first pair of glasses at the age of 6, my near-sightedness being spotted when I started school. I should have had them much younger. It was amazing when I got them. Suddenly there were pictures on the snowy TV screen - reception could be so BAD in the late 40's - that I never knew were there. It wasn't many years until the glasses turned into coke-bottle-ends and I've found that the new, light-weight, materials just don't give me the same vision acuity that the old materials did.

I taught myself to type on my cousin's old manual typewriter when I was about 12. It wasn't until high school that I had a course and had to unlearn what I'd taught earlier. I was hitting about 40 words a minute with four fingers. It was hard to give that up, but after enough experience doing it the right way, I hit about 80 to 100 a minute.

I've had two heart attacks and had 2 stents put into my heart. Currently, I'm in a holding pattern on that front, getting more exercise than I did before, but less than I should. My weight's up, my cholesterol is up, my stress is up, and, I suppose, that means that eventually my time will be up, too. :) My blood-sugar is down, however, so there's some good news to mix with the bad.

I have Meniere's Syndrome, an inner ear problem that creates instantaneous episodes of vertigo and severe dizziness at random intervals for random time periods. I'm lucky, I've only had one severe attack in about five years. It lasted about 4 hours and then I was just fine. But it was enough to send me to the emergency room since most of its symptoms are the same as a heart attack, but without the pain. Compared to the heart attacks, it was the only case of the three where I actually WANTED to die. You see, the symptoms of heart attacks can be alleviated, those of Meniere's mostly can't.

Still, all in all, I've always said I was blessed with an incredibly healthy body. I've only had the flu one time in my life, it putting me down for a weekend. My wife and two sons had it at the same time and they were down for over a week, the kids running 106 degree temperatures. No other serious illnesses for me - I don't count diabetes as an illness, just a condition - although I am down to about half my original 32 teeth now. Takes a lot longer for me to eat nowadays - looks like that would help on the weight, but it doesn't.

I'm going to be retiring in 4 years. Hope Social Security is still around because that's about all I will have. I've had plenty of opportunities to save, but something always got in the way. Did I mention that I've been married three times? :)

I've lived through the nuclear arms race to the terrorist's nuclear threat. I lived through flower power and free love to the rise of AIDS and viagara. I've been a liberal, a libertarian, a conservative. I find I like the rationality of conservatism best. I used to play computer games, even before computers were popular, but don't have the patience for them anymore. I love movies but find most are too long, longer than their plot anyway.

Some of my favorite TV shows are Survivor, Lost, Desperate Housewives, CSI, Law and Order, Two and a Half Men. Others are Dead Like Me, Carnivale, all Star Treks except for Enterprise, Tru Calling. Way out movies I've enjoyed are A Boy and His Dog, Liquid Sky, The Bed-Sitting Room, Run Lola Run, and too many others to mention.

My wife is leaving next Wednesday for a week with her son Tom in the Air Force in Albuquerque. Him and the grandkids. He doesn't have the majority of the grandkids, but he's close. I'll be here, my son is coming over on the 18th and we'll make chili and watch movies. My other son works weekends so he probably won't be there, but we've invited some of David's friends and some of mine and we'll just see how many show up. We've scheduled Bad Santa, The Last Seduction, and several other movies, including some that he'll try to surprise me with.

So, all in all, my past has been eventful. If you don't have things in your past that you can't tell your grown kids about, then you're just doing life wrong. So, I guess I've done OK, because there are whole YEARS I can't detail to anyone.

Years that I remember with fond remembrance.

First post

OK, we'll see if anyone see this. Say hi if you do.