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by hart Author IconMail Icon
Rated: E · Fiction · Other · #1993008
I'm not sure what to say. It wrote itself. I just corrected syntax and spelling.
                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                       The Georgia 9th wasn't at Gettysburg? The Library of Congress records say otherwise. I saw their regimental colors at less than arm's length --- there --- at the Wheatfield. My neighbors. A good and decent people --- generous. But, they do have some skewered ideas about what is and what is not property. That'll cost them, dearly. Yes, a southern boy can fight for the Union --- at the Angle .... at the Angle. And yes, you're not alone in this universe --- this crowded galaxy even. The only difference between you and I is a million years --- by your sun's time --- the DNA is the same. Oh, yeah, I have full capacity of my brain, which makes the physical world attentive to my every ...... what? Still, I can't change anyone else's will, even when they are so --- yeah. Yes, you can travel anywhere. Einstein is so cute --- toddler cute. Oh, there is that other one small matter. But, never mind about that for now.                                                                                                    

All the shouting and crying, the anger ....the screaming --- comes first. The piercing screaming always comes first. It never ends, never stops. My impulse is to block it. But, I can't. I won't. This is why I'm here. The pain inflicted --- need for... what? It never ends. It's overwhelming. No. It's not overwhelming. I just need to sort through it. Go to whomever needs me most.                                                                                                              

The folks in hell, they're there because they want to be. Like attendees at an unsanctioned, underground UFC fight --- the 'fans'. The glare --- the blood glare --- in their eyes. I know who they are. Every damn one of them, by name. The shame of it ... it's not at the Angle [July 3, 1863, the most important day in the 19
th century], nor Normandy, Omaha beach [June 6, 1944 the most important day in the 20th century], hand-to-hand, feel breath on each other's face, desperate. Fighting on hope --- for something, anything, better. No. This is standing around, twisted bored, waiting, like at the Colosseum, watching the lions approach the bound Christians. They could get out at anytime.                                                                                                    

Take a look at Mr. Charles Darwin, an important guy in human progression. His fact gathering --- impeccable. His conclusions, not so much. Take a string of events. Each event is 50-50 in its outcome. Each event's existence is dependent on its predecessor's outcome --- that string is random. Take another string of events. Each event is a billion to one and each event's existence is dependent on its predecessor's outcome --- that's Life. Intelligent Design. Deliberate. Oh so very much deliberate. How? The power is awesome. Why? I keep meaning to ask, but the moment never comes up. Take a look around, are you not shielded in this bubble from constant bombardment of deadly .... everything. Atheists: loveably stupid, so long as they do no harm to other folks' faith. Religious leaders with their need to intercede, that's a whole other thing, dealt with in its own good time. I tried on several occasions to explain this to Mr. Darwin, in private. I attended many of his presentations at the Royal Society. He is a charming, engaging, impassioned public speaker --- persuasive. But he brooks little patience with critical query, particularly from the floor in a public forum. Therefore, my private attempts to spare and avoid triggering hubris.

Unfortunately, after his young daughter Annie's prolonged illness and demise, Mr. Darwin had a real hard-on [a term arising in 1890] against spiritual belief. Completely understandable. Belief can fail to overcome pain, at times. It happens. God doesn't hold it against anyone. There's too much other important --- vital, even --- stuff going on. When I used the expression 'hard-on' with Mr. Darwin, the look of puzzlement on his face compelled me to quickly explain. His hard laughter caused such a coughing fit and heart palpitations so serious I had to lay a hand on his chest, gently. I didn't think it was all that funny. You never know. Folks can be so unpredictable. In the big things? Hardly. No. In the little things --- moment to moment? Absolutely. Getting to London from my home in Savannah takes either five weeks, pitching and rolling; or, in the blink of an eye. Which would you choose? All of the time? Nothing like an invigorating sea voyage, under sail --- wind and spray. Even, taking a turn aloft unfurling the top gallants.                                                                      

Little Annie died of complications of scarlet fever and
tuberculosis.          



Mr. Darwin's father --- Robert --- is a gifted medical doctor with an intuitive approach to confronting contagious, infectious diseases, years ahead of his colleagues. But, there's years to go. With the right touch of 'coincidental chance', here and there --- just whispering which way to take when a fork in the road arises, it becomes vital to feed and nurture true talent and selfless commitment.

"Could I have saved Annie? If only I had followed my father in his work and not dropped out of medical school. To do what? Follow adventure, notoriety and the high pride of yet undiscovered ideas. If only ... I could have built on my father's efforts and perhaps saved Annie?"

"That's a hard call to make, Charles. Be assured --- no, rest assured--- you will one day see Annie. You will see once again the delight in her eyes, hear her giggles, see the demanding arms thrown up for an embrace as she rushes toward you. Count on it."

He lay his hand over mine and clutched it. To his passing breath, he could never ease up on that hard-on of his --- for random chance.                                                                                                                        

Can you live forever, a thousand years even --- or more? The technology is there. When you tire of it, it's not suicide --- just go out doing something heroic, somewhere it's really needed --- you ask God's permission first. No, it's not prayer, you actually talk with God. Like Abraham walking down the road with God and his two angels. Call him, God will actually walk with you. He very much likes taking on embodiment --- watch out for whom you speak with, you never know --- though the two angels, what's with that? I wouldn't think God needs security, although there is Louis Cipher --- could sell gulags to the marxists and 'master race' to the nazis. That's the trigger that nearly ends it all --- a predilection for insane persuasive argument. A bright, brief flash in this part of the galaxy. It brings everyone to come look, to see if there's anything they can do. But that's a little ways down the road --- not too far, not so far. Takes ten millennia to recover. Funny, how stupidity can get scorched away by so much pain. I guess 'funny' isn't exactly the right word, huh? Ironic. Inevitable? I guess I'm here to see about that.

I was one of the first through the gates at Dachau in '45. We did what we could as fast as we could. It was a ....... time for all of us --- just absolutely shaken and ...... seething. Combat was just a walk in the park compared to this. I was assigned to interrogate a captured SS colonel. I found his responses unsatisfactory. I wrote the report, he died by suicide --- two gunshots to the head. No one got back to me.




"Father, I would like to go home. I just wanna go home, now. Can I go home?" ...... "Can you? Yes. May you? That's entirely up to you, my son, my beloved son". I have my world, my loved ones, I call home.

When I call him father, I love watching his eyes brighten, light up and shine. And he has a smile and touch just to die for. I would never ask him about the two angels, I figure, he just likes the company --- Michael and Gabrielle ..... geez, do they ever just glare.

Next time, I think I might just offer each of them a pair of sunglasses......... "No, uh-uh, don't' look at him. Put them on. Now! Thank you".

I'm not so much a turn the other cheek kinda' guy. I'm more of a preemptive sort of soul. Get it done before it happens. That way no one has to turn the other cheek.


                   



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