The Texas Bohemian

Word artist. Jack of all Trades.

The Third Day, Or…

Maybe, the beginning of the end?

Yesterday was a pleasant day.  The kids were doing well.  We got a little work accomplished outside.  School went well.  Daddy didn’t have to go into bear mode all day.  The TV wasn’t on at all except for an hour with a History Channel show about ancient underwater discoveries.  The little ones were in bed by then and I didn’t pay much attention to the show even though I turned it on.  Nobody else was watching at all.

There were plenty of thoughts in my head yesterday.  One of them sprouted into a full-blown post.  And I pestered the single Yahoo group I’m on now with more musings.  I spent quite a bit of time at my desk scouring news sources for real information.  Life in this tree-lined cage is difficult for someone whose  heart beats to GO.  I drove a long-haul truck a few times just to see the country.  I long for a way to get back on the open road!  …I digress.

The three children who are at this moment down the hall quietly working on math sheets and other school stuff are three beats of the four/four rythm of my heartbeat.  My wife, off at work, rounds out the tune.  Although our household is topsy-tervy compared to the “average” home I am the leader of this little band and hold the greatest responsibility.  As the days go by I grow more concerned about our kids’ future and about what we really should do.

The state of this nation is growing darker with each passing day.  I fear for our stability, our freedom, our very lives.  I don’t exactly lay awake at night quaking but as a “let’s get it done” kind of guy it’s a difficult time because I don’t know WHAT to do, exactly.

We have plans and contingencies.  We’re working on them.  Our garden is one.  There are others.

The whole paranoid theme of this post was inspired by the article I referenced last evening on here, the one titled “If you’re not worried, you should be.”  Why?  Because… if you’re not worried, you should be!

Throughout my life I’ve been burdened or cursed (pick your adjective) with an insatiable need to KNOW.  I’m not just curious, I’m insanely curious.  What the HELL is what?  Most subjects are learned by picking up a book here and there and reading.  I’ve done that.  I still do.  PopSci comes home once a month and I grab up any other source I see lying around just to peak.  I almost digress, except that I’ve had the feeling that there are things that we don’t know, we as citizens, that we SHOULD know.  So I dig.

From my days as an idealistic teen I’ve been intensely interested in changing the world.  This led to an interest in politics and then an interest in History.  I eventually obtained a degree in history.  By the time I did I had become a pessimist.  If there’s one thing a full airing of history teaches it’s that powerful people run the world and everybody else just gives in.  I’m speaking, of course, of FACTUAL history, not that watered down and sweetened crap taught in grade school.

History, of course, rises from the depths of premoridal muck through time and lands squarely on our front door.  As I taught our kids not too long ago, “history” is anything that has happened.  “History” as a discipline is a study of anything that happened yesterday or before.  My studies in college focussed on the twentieth century and has progressed since then up to yesterday’s news.  And yesterday’s news, in true historical context, is all very, very bad.

I no longer WANT to know.  I just can’t help it.  I’m a news cleptomanicac.  I share bits of what I learn with my wife and she’ll say, “I wish you wouldn’t tell me all that stuff.  I don’t want to know.”  She might be able to shove it aside and read a novel.  Not I.  I haven’t read a novel in many years.

I’m getting there, be patient!

Ever get the feeling like you’re standing on a railroad track, foot stuck, and you can feel the rumble of the train up around some bend?  I have felt that way.  I feel the rumble, jerk at my sneaker, and utter an inquisitive prayer: “Help?”

Well, my foot is still stuck and I can’t quite see the train but I can see that bright light in the dimming twilight that we’re now living in.  The darn thing really IS coming.  No whistles yet, no diesel roar, just that stupid bright light.  The problem is, the light is so bright I can’t tell how far down the track the train is.

Of course the solution is to pull my foot from the shoe and jump.  Of course.  That isn’t the problem.  The problem is which way?  Or, maybe, should I just stand here and let the train smack me?  Or should I just step beside the track and wait for it to slow and pick me up.  It will if I wait.

You see, this metaphorical train doesn’t smash people in its path, it absorbs them.  Like some kind of alien movie, it scoops up everything and everyone unlucky enough to be in its way, changing them into something else.  I won’t die if it smacks me or if I just get on through the door and be a good passenger.  I won’t be me any more, either.

If I jump, which side?  Neither side is going to make life easy.  On one side is the ocean, the other, a thick forest.  Which to choose?  Either way means a new lifestyle.  Which will be the best way?  Will those shoving the throttle just scoop me up as it passes even if I do jump?

I know I’m not making a hell of a lot of sense.  I’m being deliberately vague.  Yes, I’m a little paranoid.  So snicker if you want.

The outdoors becons.  I must go.  Just before I leave you with this weird ending let me say that as I swing the weed-wacker or jostle the ground with the cultivator I’ll be trying to think.  I don’t care for myself but I do for my family.  Our world faces a crisis.  How do we deal with it?  This I really MUST figure out.

Now, to you lonely reader, I bid you adieu, and ask, how SHALL we deal with this crisis on our hands?


June 4, 2008 - Posted by | Blather | , , , , , , , , ,

1 Comment »

  1. Hell don’t ask me for suggestions – I’m stuck on the same damn track.
    Sorry – somebody peed in my cornflakes this morning.
    I really do wish I could turn it off and read a novel. I really really do – at least right now in this minute. Give me a few – I’ll be back to loathing the thought.

    Comment by jewlsntexas | June 4, 2008

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