A Life Journey

From Roncevaux pass across the channel, around Brittania, up to isle of Mann, a strain of Euro mankind turned westward. A young man sailed for the new world, through the harbor where the tired, the weary and the huddled masses were yearning to be free. Round and round, down and down, through mountains, southward,the people and the young man trod; they floated, by wagon and by train,through rain, down to the sunny South. At the father of American waters the Carey ancestors floated down the Euphrates of the new world, to Ur of those called to the delta, to the bayou, almost to great Gulf. And there, Pilgrim was born, in Ur of the new world, the land of many waters, where he was raised in the Roman way of worship, with host and chalice, balanced out with a sprig or two of Baptist faith, lingering in the pages of time, and he grew up and he traipsed the halls of acadamia, searching for paradise lost, comprehending the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune that flesh is heir to. And after he had grown some, he took to himself an orange, and he noticed the veins in the leaf, and the light and the balance. Then he was in that stage of life when a man must discover his own path, and so he turned eastward, to the panhandle of health and wealth, the peninsula of sunshine. He prospered; he figured out a thing or two, but after a season or three, he gravitated to the land of the high country, over themountain and through the Appalachian woods to the buncombe of liberated free youth, guided homeward by the face of an a an angel. . . drawing him to a destiny yet to be determined. . . he knew not what.

As Roland had sounded his horn at Ronceveau in ancient times the young man sounded his songs out upon the mountains of destiny, the turntables of time, contemplating the little big horn and the windows of the world, among other things. It was all good; but trouble, tribulation and vows unvowed compelled him back westward . . . to the land of open spaces, to Waco, and no more whacko whipso strangeo. And so he had an encounter with the One who broke the seals of time and destiny, the ancient seals of creation, destruction and new creation.

Then later. . . after an unsettled runaround in the wild west, he returned to his adopted high country home, he met the woman of his destiny, and they settled into the good, prolific life on the old trail where Boone had found the way westward, back in the day, where spring’s new hope, born of leaves decaying, settles into the ancient Appalachian forests of time.

Glass half-Full

Deep South 1964

from chapter 5 of King of Soul But Liberty and Justice for All is not something that just happens. As compatriots with liberation and deliverance, liberty and justice emerge triumphant from the very embattlements of human history. Where their zealous advocates manage to grab some foothold in the landscape of human struggle, freedom is fleeting not far behind. Noble aspirations are all summoned up when the careless slayings of men demand value more sacred, more holy, than the mere clashing of weapons and the expiration of breathing bodies. In our present exploration’s story, the bad news is: there is an inevitable outflow—the shedding of blood—which propels violence to ever higher levels of atrocity. The good news is: where there’s shedding of blood, Soul is not far beneath. In the summer of 1964, all of these elements of human struggle converged in an unprecedented way. Way down south, in the piney woods and sweltering fields of Mississippi, a new activist strain of blood-red camellia was taking root in that freshly-tilled civil rights black delta loam. As God had heard the cry of Abel’s blood arising from Edenic soil, he heard now the beckoning of enshrouded laborers, those dead and these living. Their muted cries called forth liberation; they demanded deliverance. So while black folk of the deep South were struggling to register their right to vote as Americans, a vast brigade of like-minded souls from other regions caught a whiff of their newly-planted liberty, and so the new brigades took it upon themselves to go down to Mississippi and lend a hand.

Go down, Moses, was the call. Go down, collective Moses. There were many who heard that call; there was even a man named Moses, Bob Moses from Harlem. He, and others who stood with him against discrimination, planted themselves in Mississippi at the crossroads of injustice and opportunity. Down here in the verdant lap of Dixie where the honeysuckles twine sweetly and the slaves had mourned bitterly, a battalion of wayfaring strangers from far and near came to cultivate the new growth offreedom. They were filling a void in the whole of the human soul. Robbed of freedom, the Soul of Man wails out a distress call; then in regions afar, theSoul of Man hears, and resonates with action. Deep calls unto deep. https://www.amazon.com/King-Soul-Louis-Carey-Rowland/dp/1545075115 Glass half-Full

London 1937

My novel, Smoke, published in 2011, begins a story set in 1937. The first scenes take place in London, May 12, Coronation day for King George VI, grandfather of the present King Charles. For the love of a woman can change the course of the world. As Helen’s face had launched a thousand Greek ships, so the affections of an American divorcée had turned the tide of royal authority from one brother to another. From one duke to another. Made ostensibly of sterner, though stammering, stuff than his older liege, Albert--soon to be called George VI--would, in only a few short hours ascend those few hallowed steps in Westminster to sit upon the throne of Edward, James, Henry and all those other regents who had ever commanded the armies or fleets of British empire. The people of England were expectant, exultant. No mean Mr. Mustard here. No, they were ready to receive a new king, now that the whole affair of Edward’s abdication had resolved itself into the ashtray of history. And all the more so, since the role of the regents was now largely ceremonial, having little effectual responsibility except to maintain that proverbial stiff upper lip with a vigilant eye upon the horizon where an eternal sun was perpetually setting, but never, of course, on the British Empire. God save the King, but it would be Mr. Baldwin, or Mr. Chamberlain, Mr. Churchill, orsome such privileged commoner who would ultimately compel English hearts and guts to bear sacrificial defence of their storied shores.

The story begins as the American businessman, Philip, accompanied by his friend, Nathan, a Londoner, are looking into a shop window, when suddenly an old man takes hold of Nathan’s arm and promptly collapses on the pavement, dead. Then the London bobby shows up. . . The policeman asked Nathan if there was anything else he had noticed about the deceased. “He handed this to me,” said Nathan, “even as he was falling to the ground.” It was a folded white paper, with this handwritten message largely scrawled in black ink: Wallris-- John Bull’s ransom will smoke out the black shirts tomorrow. If not, your bridge could burn. Chapman .. . . while a crowd of people stood and stared. They’d seen his face before. Nobody was really sure if he was from the House of Lords. https://www.amazon.com/Smoke-L-Carey-Rowland/dp/1495330834 Glass half-Full

Tree Fallen

Fallen tree down on the ground, did your demise send out a crashing sound? I know the Lord who created you. I know the Lord who laid you in my view.

How many years did you stand, tall and strong, before it all went wrong? How many seasons came and went before to forest floor you’re sent? I wander slowly in these woods, shaded by all these leafy hoods. Clear blue sky, in the heavens high, did you send wind to make trees fly? Flying downward to the ground, did this tree make a crashing sound? How many years did this stand tall, before the crashing, fatal fall?

Losing leaves, bleeding sap, this mighty tree laid down to take a nap. Timber, timber, standing tall, did you cry out in God’s fateful call? Oh mighty tree, oh mighty tree, methinks you’re a lot like me. Someday I shall fall down like you, when I then join the heavenly crew. Glass half-Full

Deep South 1964

an excerpt from King of Soul But Liberty and Justice for All is not something that just happens. As compatriots with liberation and deliverance, liberty and justice emerge triumphant from the very embattlements of human history. Where their zealous advocates manage to grab some foothold in the landscape of human struggle, freedom is fleeting not far behind. Noble aspirations are all summoned up when the careless slayings of men demand value more sacred, more holy, than the mere clashing of weapons and the expiration ofbreathing bodies. In our present exploration’s story, the bad news is: there is an inevitable outflow—the shedding of blood—which propels violence to ever higher levels of atrocity. The good news is: where there’s shedding of blood, Soul is not far beneath. In the summer of 1964, all of these elements of human struggle converged in an unprecedented way. Way down south, in the piney woods and sweltering fields of Mississippi, a new activist strain of blood-red camellia was taking root in that freshly-tilled civil rights black delta loam. As God had heard the cry of Abel’s blood arising from Edenic soil, he heard now the beckoning of enshrouded laborers, those dead and these living. Their muted cries called forth liberation; they demanded deliverance. So while black folk of the deep South were struggling to register their nright to vote as Americans, a vast brigade of like-minded souls from other nregions caught a whiff of their newly-planted liberty, and so the new brigades took it upon themselves to go down to Mississippi and lend a hand. Go down, Moses, was the call. Go down, collective Moses.

King of Soul

When in the course of American events it becomes necessary for the people to dissolve the political bands which had previously connected them with insurrectionists magamaniacs, and to assume, among the powers and the rights afforded us in our Constitution, the separate and corrective station to which Nature and our Bill of Rights entitle us, a decent respect for the opinions of mankindrequires that we should declare the violations of our Rule of Law that impel us toto the corrective action.

We hold these principles, mentioned here, to be memorable in the minds of ourfellow-citizens, that we are all challenged by our Constitution and our judicial precedents to conduct ourselves in a manner that is law-abiding, peaceful and productive toward the general welfare of our citizens and our institutions. The securing of our rights to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness, requires us to institute governments, on the federal, state and local levels, deriving their powers from the consent of the people who str governing and being governed. And when any holder of public office becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to remove him, thus rebuilding a lawful foundation on Constitutional principles, and re-organizing powers that are appropriate for obtaining Safety and Security. Prudence, indeed, will dictate that governments long established should not be changed with magamania intentions. Therefore. . . a long train of abuses and usurpations compels US the People to expel the chief offender for the sake of the preservation and continuance of our Democratic Republic. To advance our grievances and our intent to remove the offender who now occupies the oval office, let the Facts be submitted to a candid world: 1. He has refused to govern by Rule of Law, choosing rather to rule by his social media posts and the blind obedience of his foxy-woxy sycophants, who appear to have no consciousness of Constitutional authority or Rule of Law.

2. He has recruited proud boys, oath-bleepers and three percent of the foxes who steal the vines of Law and order. . . to mount an insurrectionagainst our Congress, with the intent to obstruct their Constitutional duties and subvert the counting of Electoral ballots so that he might continue, illegally, to occupy the office of the presidency, January 6, 2021.

3. Having no summons from any state Governor, as is required by our Constitution, he has called out soldiers to attack, and even to kill citizens in three of our United States, because they were making lawful use of their Constitutional Rights of Freedom of Assembly and Freedom of Speech. 4. Having no declaration of war from Congress, as would have been required by our Constitution, he took it upon himself to kill and terrorize citizens of a foreign nation, imposing a murderous war on Iran, and thereby disrupting international trade routes, and igniting monetary inflation that imposes hardship on US the People of the United States, all because he wanted to start a war. We therefore, the citizens of the United States of America call upon our Representatives and our Senators to remove the offending oval office occupant, so that we may continue in maintaining a government of the People, by the People and for the People, instead of being led by a self-obsessed powermonger who understands no principles of government of the people, by the people and for the people of these, our United States of America. Glass half-Full

North star for middle America, Chicago. . . the first time I visited there was on a road trip back in summer of ’71, between Ohio and Wisconsin, parking my old ’63 Olds Skylark in a parking lot at the Circle campus of University of Illinois. I had taken a break from selling dictionaries door to door, for the Southwestern Company of Nashville. down in Oak Hill, Ohio, for the Southwestern Company of Nashville. I parked the car and left it there for a few days so I could visit friends who were working in a summer ccamp in Wisconsin. Metropolitan Chicago represents the great middle of our nation. In my lifetime, I can remember the 1968 Democratic convention, where young people, college students from all over, gathered to protest against the draft, and against racial discrimination. The mayor of Chicago didn’t like what the protesters were doing.

But that was a long time ago. Today I’m in Evanston, just up the lakeshore from Chicago, traipsing on the campus of Northwestern University, founded in the early 1800’s, a fascinating place… founded as the first great university in the middle of our country. Wandering around now on campus, I see there is no shortage of the liberal perspective in the middle of the country. Here’s a flyer I found on a bulletin board.

Now I’m no leftie. I am a Christian, centrist. I notice that my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, taught, in His sermon on the mount, that we should be peacemakers, we should feed people who are hungry, provide shelter for those who are homeless, and welcome strangers. And just now, I notice that our former president, Barack Obama, has made some comments that serve well to gravitate our attention back to that Christian message, and away from the magamania that has captured the oval office and its current occupant. Here’s a church sign in Chicago that gets it right, or left or whatever you call helping people instead of rejecting them.

King of Soul