Dover Droning

(with appreciation for poet Matthew Arnold, Britain, 1847) Our nation is stormy just now. The reds are bullies; the blues seek fairness, to straighten the crooked maga crimps. In the Persian gulf the drones fly off and on; trump's war drones on and on, glimmering and fast, in what used to be a tranquil gulf. We grok the web; fraught are these times. But from the droning cloud where the news meets our troubled minds, Listen! you hear the grating roar of old wars which the memories wave up, and fling, at their return,

up the silicon strand, beginning, ceasing, and beginning again, with perilous violence mad, to bring the magamania madness in. Solomon long ago spotted it in Zion, and it brought into his mind the turbid ebb and flow of human vanity; we find also in the buzz, a meme, now, a ruminating on the distant fuse, Hormuz. But our Sea of Faith was, back in the day, spread full around the world like the mantle of an empty shroud on the Resurrection morn. But now the strand brings melancholy news, slung in silicony roar, repeating in the airwaves of the night-wind, down the vast edges and naked circuits of the world. Ah, citizens, let us be true to our ancient roots; for the world, which seems to spin around us as some whirlwind of our dreams, so various,

sometimes beautiful, sometimes new, has neither joy, nor love, nor light, nor certitude, nor peace, nor help now pain - or so it sometimes seems.  We hear droning rain as a belching train, swept with predirected blight in the struggle and the fight, while robot warriors drone in flight. Smoke

Al Aqsa and Temple

Here's a scene from my first novel: Glass half-Full:

Beneath a cold, clear, azure sky the city of Jerusalem lay stretched upon the mountains and valleys like a fuzzy glove upon God's hand. People from all over the world had gathered here to unearth evidence of God at work among the people of the earth. Some sought a temple that no longer exists. Some sought a mosque where a prophet entered heaven. Some trod upon the cobblestones of ancient, holy real estate, pleading for reconciliation, seeking atonement for the human condition. A man wandered beyond the dome, past the blocked-up eastern gate; curving around northward, he noticed a large open area beside the mosque. Was this where the former temple had stood? What a beautiful mosque. Could not the owners of this hill sell the adjoining, vacant acre or two to those pilgrims who, standing daily at the wall below, were wailing for their wonderful temple? Why not make a deal? Such a deal. Cousin to Cousin. Temple and Mosque, Mosque and Temple…Mosque Shsmosque, Temple Shmemple. Such a deal. Everybody happy. You pray your way; I pray mine. A man traveled outside the wall, beyond the ramparts of human religion-building, pushing the envelope of mortally human strife… through the Kidron Valley below, to the vanity-laden valley of struggle, along the groves of Gethsemane; he trod among the graves of the prophets; he ambledalong the graftings of the profits. He wept. Mankind, like a flock of fluttering chickens in a barnyard, clucking, headless…why can't we get it together? A man walked up the other side of the valley, through Arab neighborhoods, to a Jewish cemetery. Oh wailing trail of human history, why allowest thou such holocaust? Turning around, he looked back across the valley, to the mountain where he just had been, with tears: Sons of Adam, argue all you want about real estate on your holy hill. "I'll be over here on the other side," thought he.But the walk was over now. It was time to go to work.  Glass half-Full

Lincoln Legacy

Two centuries and fifty years ago our founders brought into this world, a new nation, conceived in Liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men and women are created equal. Now we are engaged in a dubious foreign war, testing whether this nation or any nation allied with us, and so dedicated, can proclaim itself the bully of the world. We now report upon an aggressive, ill-conceived, illegal war in which 127, or more, of our American soldiers have been laid upon the altar of modern warfare. It is altogether appropriate that we acknowledge their brave sacrifice, although it is also appropriate that we question the unauthorized deployment of our soldiers by a rogue president who deploys our officers, our soldiers, our ships, our aircraft and our defensive resources without any Constitutionally-mandated declaration of war from Congress. But in a realistic sense, we find ourselves unable to adequately appreciate or consecrate their sacrifice in the Persian gulf. The brave men, living and dead, who answered their duty call, have consecrated our American legacy, our struggle to protect and defend the freedom and dignity of all men and women who live and breathe and live their lives in this fallen world.

Lincoln's Address at Gettysburg battlefield, 161 years ago.The world will sometimes note, and maybe even remember, what we Americans try to do over there. . . over there, or anywhere we go in the world while trying to liberate oppressed people, or to impose our way of life on foreign nations that are motivated by religions and ancient customs that we do not understand. The challenge is for us, the living citizens of the earth, to be dedicated to the unfinished work of peace and safety - that from these honored dead we take increased devotion - that we highly resolve that those dead shall not have died in vain, and that our nation, United States of America, shall adapt a new awareness. . . in the fog of a presumptuous president's unauthorized actions. . . and that our governance by the people, through our Senators and our Representatives, shall not perish from our nation's governance. Glass half-Full

King of Soul

May 4, 1970 in Kent, Ohio Why is this happening? Why had he come here? Why had he followed Kevin all the way to damn Ohio, to see this? Donnie didn’t want to see this; yet he stood numbly, transfixed by the horror, surrounded by these other people, people he didn’t know, strangers, all strangers, and yet bound together now, estranged together in some otherworldly covenant, the shedding of blood, the covenant now, unspoken, unspecified except for the wailing of the witnesses, the onslaught of the rage of these onlookers and now he was there with them in this. . . sacrifice, holy moment, passing of this soul into beyond. Someone called him Jeff. Ahead of him and to the right, a group was attempting to lift a big guy who had fallen and was trying to right himself, but futility, futility, and the259 helpers were powerless to upright him and so they desisted and the young man lay on the ground, still breathing, moaning, suspended in a state of agony somewhere between life and death, somewhere between heaven and hell. This must be hell. Cousin Will was dying, but surely he would not go to hell, because he was — he didn’t look — like a man who would be in hell, he looked like he didn’t belong in this state of suspended between life and death. And there were others. But Donnie did not want to see. He had had enough. His feet began to move, walk. Shuffling, he wandered away, away from the noise and the pain and suffering and the death, away from the death, away from the strangers gathered in their strangeness; let them have it, let them have it all; dragging feet carried him through the parking lot, across grass, past cars, past people yelling, crying, going on, going away, going going gone.

On a sidewalk, moving along on the sidewalk, here’s a street, cars going by, he’s in a town, a strange town, never been here, shops, normal places stillexisting on the edge of this uncommon tragedy, how could these normal places still be . . . traffic lights changing red, green, yellow. Red. He would never forget the Red. Sleepwalking on the sidewalk, unfamiliar people, faces, here’s a dime store, there’s a clothing store, drug store, here’s a church. Door open, a church. Donnie lifts his feet, lifts his eyes, ascending the steps, nine steps up and now he’s in the church, sleepwalking between wooden benches, floor slick and polished, scent of wood, wax, candles burning. Donnie is traveling through the pews, along the aisle. Ahead, there’s unclothed man hanging on the cross up above, with thorny crown of kingly blood, soul tortured by the state of this world. His face in agony, it appears as that face Donnie had just seen, only minutes before in the parking lot,. Same bloody sacrifice. He is as a lamb, slain, because of what we do. What’s it to you? http://www.careyrowland.com

Blue Windows and Stars

There it was, back in the day, probably about 1963, a record album in the hands of best friend Johnny. His older brother, a navy man, had brought it from across the ocean. It was a 33 rpm LP record album . . . a collection of songs, old songs, what was called folk music, sung by a girl, Joan Baez, whose mission in life was to retrieve these melodic stories and circulate them into the hearts andminds of Americans. The album notes, on the back cover of the record sleeve, had been composed by some fellow named Bob Dylan. I remember this phrase: “In my youngest years, I used to kneel on the hillside beside the railroad track and tear the grass out of the ground. . . and the sound of her voice. . .” It doesn’t make sense; I guess Bob was moved by thesound of Joan’s vibrato voice, and her heart beating with the tunes and stories of antiquity. . . from England, from across the ocean: “before you step on board, sir, your name I’d like to know. . .oh, they call me Jackaroe.” But all that changed one night; while laying in bed at night, listening to thetransistor radio, when I heard these words: “She was just seventeen; you know what I mean; and the way she looked. . . was way beyond compare. Now I’ll never dance with another, since I saw her standing there.” What it was was the beginning of Beatle era. Volumes could be written it, how they had listened to old 45’s of Little Richard and a host ole black folk of the deep south, where I just happened to be growing up. But this life is not really about music. It’s really about life and death. When it comes to death. . . there we were all in different places. . . November 22, 1963, my place was in a 7th grade classroom in Baton Rouge, when the Catholic school principle, Sister Georgia, came in and told us that President Kennedy had been shot. I just had to put that in here; I don’t know why. . . except to say that life takes a tragic turn sometimes, and we remember. . . Dallas Nov22 dealey plaze. . . 9:11 World Trade Center. Our parents’ generation had their own tragedy to deal with: World War II. But getting back to the popular music. Back in our parents’ generation, they had the big bands. . . Duke Ellington, Tommy Dorsey, Glenn Miller, with all their brassy big band arrangements, and crooners, like Frank Sinatra, Ella Fitzgerald. In my g-generation, things were different. Radio waves were dominated by Elvis, and then along came Bo Diddly, then the Motown sound, the Four Tops, Marvin Gaye, the Supremes. . . And then along came, for us folky types, Judy Collins, singing “There’s a young man that I know; his age is 21; comes from down in southern Colorado, Just out of the service, and he’s looking for . . .someday soon. . . going with him someday soon.” Well, Judy’s fellow, “just out of the service” was probably one of the survivors from Vietnam, which was a big deal, back in that day. In 1970, my freshman year at LSU, the US Defense Dep’t initiated a draft lottery. My number was 349. Many others were not so lucky. My friend Johnny — whose brother had had the Joan Baez album — he did go to Vietnam. Thank God he came back. At the end of my freshman year at LSU, June 1971, I took a job with the Southwestern Publishing Company (of Nashville Tennessee), selling dictionaries, door to door in southern Ohio. One weekend, my sales manager drove us up to Columbus, Ohio, where we watched a movie, “The Strawberry Statement.” The movie was about students protesting at some university. I think it was Columbia University. There was a scene in the movie that, for whatever reason, sticks in my mind, even unto today. I don’t know why. Maybe it wasthe imagery, the night-time imagery, or maybe it was the sound track, the song that was sung . . . the high voice of Neil Young. . . “Blue blue windows behind the stars. . . yellow moon on the rise. . . big birds flying across the skies, throwing shadows on our eyes”

I don’t know why the scenario in Neil’s song resides so vividly in my memory. It must be related, in some funky or providential way, to the album I made years later, which featured — not a blue window and big birds — but a golden window and an angel. . .

It’s funny the tidbits of life you remember in this long trek (my 74th year) from birth to the other side, whatever that is. . . from birth to . . . as Dr. Martin Luther King had said on the night before he was assassinated in Memphis. . . ”But I’m not worried about that now; I’ve been to the mountaintop, and I’ve seen the promised land! I may not get there with ya (the “promised land”)” That “promised land” of which Martin spoke was the freedom promised to all American citizens by our Constitution and by Lincoln’s Emancipation Proclamation. Dr. King knew he would be going to one “promised land” or the other. . . the promised land of America (with its Constitution, Bill of Rights and Emancipation Declaration that President Lincoln had declared) or, farther along. . .the the Promised Land of heaven, the place where Jesus went after the powers-that-be had executed him on a cross and laid him in a tomb. Just believe that there are, indeed, blue, or golden, windows beyond stars where we who believe in Jesus’ Resurrection will be taken into eternal life with Him. King of Soul

No Place Like Rome

I was reading in my ancient book today about a dispute that had happened between my religious ancestors about two thousand years ago. The people whose ancestors had written the ancient book had a very long heritage of doing things a certain way. They were arguing with one of their own, a very wise and learned man named Paul. He was considered a troublemaker because of his radical renovations in the faith that had been handed down from their ancestors. A miracle had happened - actually a whole bunch of miracles had happened - when the prophet named Jesus had recently come along speaking profound truth. And as if that wasn't enough, Jesus was healing sick people, causing the lame to walk and the blind to see. . . even (get this) raising dead people back to life. There had come a time when the religious folk had gotten so fed up with the revolutionary changes that were happening because of Jesus, they appealed to the Romans who were in charge of Israel and Judea at that time. They wanted him out of the way so they rounded up a bunch of ridiculous charges and appealed to the Romans who were in charge of that part of the world at that time. Presenting Jesus as a troublemaker who was disturbing the peace of the realm, they had gone to the Roman official who was in charge. Pilate couldn't have cared less about all this religious stuff, but he did know that he had a responsibility to his superiors in Rome, which was to keep the peace in Palestine. Long story short, he turned the prisoner, Jesus, over to the Roman centurions who were in charge of keeping the PAX ROMANA, appealing to them to put an end to this "Jesus" controversy that was stirring up so much trouble. So they did; they put an end to the problem, Roman style. They nailed him to a cross and let him hang there until he bled out and died. Not to worry, however. . . Jesus was raised up from his tomb, by the Creator of the Universe, his Father. . . raised up on the the third day after his crucifixion. Now, back to the Paul incident that I mentioned earlier. . . a few years after the Resurrection . . .So this Paul, formerly a hyper-religious guy, a Pharisee, had been one of those who attacked the Christians as a bunch of troublemakers. But he had had a change of heart when the Creator of the Universe had stopped him in his tracks and told him to straighten up his act, and to stop killing Christians and . . . get this. . . even become a Christian believer, himself - his own bad self! As the next few years went by, Paul went all around those regions of the Roman empire preaching the gospel of resurrection in Jesus, and being "born again," as this writer is, even here and now in 2026 A.D. But when Paul made a return trip to his old stomping grounds, he was put on trial by the religious folk for being a troublemaker all over the Roman realm, and when it got so intense that the extremists were calling for his execution, he made use of his "born a Roman citizen" rights by demanding a trial. And in the trial, Paul said: "If then, I am a wrongdoer and have committed anything worthy of death, I do not refuse to die, but if none of those things is true of which these men accuse me, no one can hand me over to them, "I appeal to Caesar!" Then Festus, the clueless Roman governor said: "You have appealed to Caesar; to Caesar you shall go" And so Paul was put on a ship and sent to Rome, where he spent the rest of his life in prison.

But a funny thing happened on the way to world history. The city where Paul was imprisoned - that's the Roman capital where apostle Peter was also imprisoned - that city, Rome, became the focal point of the gospel and Christian the faith for the next 1500 years. Jesus knew what he was talking about when he spoke these words to Peter: "Upon this rock, I build my church." You see, all things are possible with God, the Creator of the Universe. It just so happened that about 300 years later, a Roman emperor, Constantine, turned to Jesus. He initiated the empire infrastructure that, as history rolled along, presented the gospel message to the world. Now I was raised in the Roman Catholic faith. In my adulthood, I turned to a more gospel-centric gathering of Christ believers. This morning while reading the ancient book, I was thanking God for the church of Rome that had spread the gospel around the world for 1500 years before the reformers came along and guided the gospel emphasis from a sacrificial bread and wine and a set of rules to the "born again" salvation message of the Reformation gospel. And now that my granddaughter is attending a Roman Catholic school, I'm like. . . I'm okay with that. After all, I attended Catholic schools for thirteen years before launching my life into the wide, wide world. Lastly, when Pat and I visited Rome a few years ago, when our daughter was studying abroad (thanks to the University of North Carolina "study abroad" program) we saw the prison where apostles Peter and Paul had been locked up, back in the day, in a time and a place, long ago and far, far away, Rome! There's no place like Rome. King of Soul

Woe is US rant

Methinks there's something rotten in maralago. Just now, beyond the ides of March. . . Gog, Magog, Rosh and Persia. . . all hell breaks loose. Now I don't know but I been told, that American hegemony is collapsing, Read 'em and weep, all ye citizens of the land of the free and the home of the brave. Yeah, I say unto thee that the king wannabe doth do as he pleases: he exalts himself and magnifies his destruction, disregarding all that is held high in the opinions of mankind. He shows no regard for the God who is worshipped by those who lifted him into his oval office of power. His only objective seems to be to magnify the destructive power of his own authority. He holds in his high esteem the god of forces, a god whom his predecessors did not approve. He imposes destruction on the middle of the world, giving honor to those who suck up to his hot air braggadocio. He parcels out authority, power and assets to those who take control of assets, nearby and farflung, because he is the meanest sobby in the valley, as he unleashes fire and destruction on mankind.

He destroys, even as the strong man of the north, the Rosh powermonger, formerly his good pal, sends assets to the Medes. Rumors from the middle east rile him, as he sends forth the powers that had been placed in his command, albeit presumptuously deployed without the authority of US the people, nor Congress, while we the people scroll uselessly, sheep grazing on the green grass of home, two cars in the driveway. Meanwhile, back at the ranch, ICE freezes America while the world weeps. He will impose the assets of his oval pavilion between the nations, placing in jeopardy the Holy Mountain, yet he will come to an end, and no one will help him. Read 'em and weep, all ye Americans who remember what it was like to live in the land of the free and the home of the brave. P.S. And see that you do not hurt the oil and the wine. 6:6 Glass half-Full

Common Sense

In 1776, American patriot Thomas Paine published his history-making pamphlet, Common Sense, advocating independence for the thirteen American colonies from Great Britain. I have noticed that his reasoning, his argument, against King George III, when read in this day and time, provides an historic basis for reasoning and argument against this present 2026 power grab by which donald trump strives to commandeer the distant nation of iran into a position of subservience to his money-grubbing make america go apesh*t hegemony. If Thomas Paine were alive today, to strengthen our nation's resolve toward decency, peace, equality of citizenship for all (even for world citizens), perhaps he would say this, ( and I'm iparaphrasing): In America this president hath little more to do that to make war and to blow up places in middle eastern countries; which in plain terms,is to demolish peace in the middle east. It's a lucrative business indeed for a man to be allowed to wield the entire military industrial strength of our United States, while being exonerated and amped up by the fox who steals the vines and the news stooges who heroitize the tyrant's power- grabs. back to our roots: this sign sighted, while walking past a yard in Massachusetts the cradle of American democracy Even so, we ought not fight ghost riders in Persian skies. We must stand against the oval occupant who jeopardizes world peace by his destructively bellicose power grab. 

Yeah, I say unto thee: Of more worth is any one peacekeeping man who, according to our Savior's directive, "shall inherit the earth" than all the magamaniacs and fat cats who ever came down the elevator, or up the ladder of wealth and privilege that now takes aim, by trump's bellicose demand, at citizens in faraway lands, blowing to smithereens a girl's school and the home rule of Persian law, as if the donald and magamania had rendered us Americans holier that thou. Let us not forget the words of wisdom written by a wise king of Israel (yes, Israel) Solomon, long, long ago: "Pride goeth before a fall." Glass half-Full

Get out Now!

Words found in an old book: "Fallen, fallen is Babylon the great! She has become a dwelling place of demons and a prison of every unclean spirit. . . for all the nationshave drunk of the wine of her immorality, and the kings of the earth have committed acts of immorality with her, and the merchants of the earth have become rich by the wealth of her sensuality." I heard another voice from heaven, saying, "Come out of her, my people, so that you will not participate in her sins and receive of her plagues". Now I don't know, but I been told, that the self-appointed destroyer of the middle east, the grifter who now occupies our oval office, has taken it upon himself to obliterate the ancient land of Persia. . .

 and he's casting international fear and confusion into every nation in every corner of earthly civilization. . . into the entire international infrastructure of diplomacy. . . This is the same person who partnered with jeffrey whatshisname to have young girls presented to men for the sakes of the men satisfying their own sexual desires, (come out of her, my people). . .the same man who deceived the clueless, unthinking religious folk who don't actually read their gospels, who don't actually take seriously the Sermon on the Mount . . . "Blessed are the Peacemakers." The message of Jesus does not say blessed is the warmonger who, having no constitutional legitimacy to command war destruction, takes it upon himself to blow up the Persian gulf and to initiate disastrous retaliation wherein Israel (supposedly the land that was to be protected by trump's bellicose destruction) is now being obliterated by Iranian fire-power.  Now to reiterate the biblical warning about Babylon, as stated above: "Come out of her, my people, so that you will not participate in her sins and plagues." Come out of your maralago madness. Stop following ghislene maxwell's enabler who now casts confusion and destruction from Washington to Tel Aviv to Tehran to the straits of Hormuz and beyond. Glass half-Full

Ecclesia

We notice that the sun also rises and the sun sets. The rivers flow into the sea, yet the sea is not full. To the place where the rivers flow; there they flow again. That which has been is that which will be done. So there is nothing new under the sun. To know what wisdom is; that it the question, and what the hell is foolishness? Wisdom seems to bring grief, and the more you know, the more troublesome things get.As for laughter, it's crazy, and as for pleasure, what does it accomplish? I mean. . . this life is just a drag sometimes. I'm up at night, fretting about whatever.When the Byrds were getting higher and higher out in L.A. (you know where that's at, if you catch my drift) they somehow took hold of the ancient book and tuned it into a song: a time to be born and a time to dd die. . . a time to love and a time to hate. . . a time to be silent and a time to speak, a time for war and a time for peace. All along the watchtower of this life we notice: everything God does will remain. There is nothing we can do to really add to it or take away from it (although we sure can make a mess of it). But I have noticed that in this life. . . two are better than one; they have more return for their labor and efforts. "A poor yet wise young person is better than an old and foolishpresident who no longer knows how to receive instruction.I have come to the conclusion that, in this life, it is better not to make promises than to make make promises and not keep them. Dreams are nice, and talk is okay, but a lot of it is just sound and fury signifying nothing. Rather than being a dreamer. . . a better strategy is is just to make yourself familiar with the ways of God; understand what the Crator requires of us, and get in line with that righteous path that is set before us. Money doesn't really satisfy, and having a lot of stuff is, really when you get right down to it, pretty useless. This too is vanity. A worker's sleep is refreshing, and he sleeps well, but the rich person often hastrouble sleeping because of his worldy worries. I mean, when you get right down to the real nitty gritty, we - each one of us - comes into this world naked, having nothing. So go figure. Really though, when you get right down to the real nitty gritty. . . In this life, eat, drink, enjoy life, learn to do work that satisfies your needs and your soul. If you can accept this arrangement, and make the best of it, you will have received satisfaction; thus you will not be stuck in frustration like mick was when he was wailing about can't get no satisfaction. If you are respected by others, be thankful. A wise person can find value in even troublesome developments, while foolish people are just partying or loafing or streaming or lollygaging around and not really contributing anything to anybody else.  Even so. . . the rebuke of a wise person is, in the long run, better for you and me than lollygagging with foolish people. You who are rich, don't bribe people. Just don't do it. fuhgedabowdit! It corruptive, makes the world a worser place. The best way to live is to be patient and kind. Another thing: it's really kind of lame to be saying that the good ole days were better than our present times. Better to just make the best of whatever we've got here and now. Do the best you can; that's about all you can really do. Then move on to the next thing. Don't be excessively righteous. Being goody-two-shoes is annoying. Reality check: there's no man or woman on this earth who does what is right all the time. Nobody's perfect. Get used to it. Enjoy this life with your wife, or husband, as the case may be. This companionship and faithfulness is your true reward. Whatever your hand, or mind, finds to do. . . do it with all you got, to the best of your ability. For the race is not really to swift; nor is the battle to the strong. . . for time and chance overtake them all. 

911The words of any wise person are better than the blathering of fools. Last but not least: Each one of us will end up going to our eternal home.

Remember our Creator before the silver cord is broken and the golden bowl is crushed. Your dust will return to the earth as it was, and your Spirit will return to God who made it. Make the best of whatever you got.  Just sayin</i>'. Glass half-Full

The Ides of March

Several hundred years before the Roman empire began a metamorphosis toward Christian faith and governance, the empire was ruled by pagan emperors.  The Roman calendar, which is the basis of our modern calendar, named the third month Martius, after the god Mars, also known as the god of war. In 44 BC, the Roman emperor Julius Caesar was murdered on March 15. Sixteen centuries later, William Shakespeare wrote a tragic stage playabout the demise of Caesar. Side note: "Caesar" is the Latin word that later morphed into the German title, "Kaiser", as in Kaiser Wilhelm, the German monarch who started World War I because Franz Ferdinand, the heir apparent to the Austrian throne was assassinated in Sarajevo by a Serbian fanatic. Even though the lethal tipping point had started down in the Balkan area, Kaiser Wilhelm sent his German armies to attack France. The logic behind that German aggression in the opposite direction is very complicated, convoluted, and ultimately deadly for millions of Europeans. But I digress. I was writing about Caesar's demise on the Ides of March,and Shakespeare's dramatization of the crime, in which a soothsayerintrudes upon Caesar's entourage with a cryptic message: "Beware the Ides of March." Soon thereafter, Caesar was stabbed to death in the Roman Senate by his political opponent, Brutus. Now I don't know, but I been told, that just now, in our present world, we have an emperor wannabe who has, by starting a war, placed himself in the the sites of Iranian fanatics. He may be in grave danger. Furthermore, America may be in worse danger than before this clusterfud started.  Now I'm no fan of donald trump, but we don't want another dealey plaza tragedy barrelling down on America.  In my humble opinion as an American citizen, trump's war, illegally initiated without, as our Constitution requires, a Declaration of War by Congress, ignites a volatile international powder keg that could, like the first world war, degenerate into an internatational ceremony of death. Lastly, the consequences of trump's belligerent high-tech attack on Iran may not be fatal for trump. But it could provoke, because of its impetuous illegality, among the American people, a groundswell of protest, which had already been initiated by his provocation of the violent assault on our Congress, January 6, 2021.

Attack on our Capitol and US the peopleNot only that, but, the religious folk who originally supported his ascent may not be supportive for him when they discover the depths of immoral debauchery that were exchanged between him and that epstein character. Now, just like any other American who is trying to figure out this Iranian war, and all the stuff that preceded it. . . I'm just sayin', Mr. President, Beware the ides of March, and the tides of Iran-war confusion. Glass half-Full

At the River End

One hundred years ago, Robert Johnson poured out his blues into a microphone: " I went down to the crossroads... fell down on my knees. . . asked the Lord above, have mercy; save poor Bob if you please.' " Now I don't know, but I been told that Robert Johnson was the first blues musician to be recognized in history for being connected to the birth of "the blues." Maybe he was; maybe he wasn't, the first. There was a long history of good ole boy black folk pouring their hearts and souls out, down in the Mississippi delta, back in the terrible days of slavery, before Lincoln and the US Army crossed the mason-dixon line and whooped those rebel slave owners into justice and mercy. By 'n by, as American history unrolled like a flag while Taps is sounded out, the angst and the tragedy and the heavy burden of formerly enslaved folk got translated into a musical form that eventually, over a century of time, gave birth to rock 'n 'roll. When, in the 1950's, a Mississippi white boy named Elvis took American pop music by storm, he was singing . . . he was sweating out . . .those ole delta blues that he had been hearing from his soul brother kin down there in the delta, ever since he was born. Meanwhile, down the Big Muddy a ways, in Baton Rouge, I was born in 1951, about the time that Elvis was starting to launch bluesy rock into the mainstreamof American music history. But that's just a paddle wheel in the rush of Big Muddy as it flowed all the way from Minnesota, past St. Louis, Memphis, Baton Rouge, New Orleans and into the Gulf of Mexico.  Now then. . . this Revolution in American music wasn't just about blues; jazz was the twin brother of blues. Now I don't know but I been told that jazz started down in the New Orleans, and it was birthed by black folk, just like the blues, by the soul brothers down there at the bottom of the great river. Being a major port, and on the Gulf, there was a lot going on there; New Orleans is like New York; it's like the Big Apple of the South. . . or maybe the King Crawfish of the deep south. Down on that deep south end of Big Muddy, black musicians had more to work with, like brassy horns. A great trumpet player, Louis Armstrong came out of the New Orleans low end of Big Muddy, flowing fast and free, like jazz and blues.

Louie blew his horn all the way up Big Muddy, to Chicago, and New York and maybe all over the world, for all I know.  Recently, my friend Ben, my pastor, was taken up into heaven with our Lord Jesus. So I have been pondering our life after death, thanks to Jesus, because, even after death, as some ole song says. . . "there's a river of life flowing out of me. . . makes the lame to walk and the blind to see". . . a river that goes even further than the mighty Mississippi. When the Saints Go Marchin In

Sometimes We Lose

June 25–26, 1878, the 7th US Cavalry Regiment, under the command of George A. Custer, were defeated by a unified war party of the Lakota Sioux, northern Cheyenne and Arapaho nativetribes. You can hear my song about it here:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u71LxQ4YDb0 As the stars began to fall. . . the sun began to rise. . . bringing light to a newer day, and bringing light to their eyes. Hovering like a spectre, the Little Big Horn sat. . . and little did Custer know, that he would never come back. To suddenly realize. . . that thousands of hostile eyes. . . are watching you from the hills above. . . and Indian justice is a MUST, mister Custer. !@$ !@# !@# !@# !@# !@# !@# !@# !@# !@# !@# !@#,. . . Somewhere in the skies. . . a judicial decision was rendered: that victory, bright as the setting sun . . . should rest in the Sitting Bull's Eyes.

victory as bright as the setting sun. . .Smoke

Nehemiah's Request

The occupant of the oval at 1600 Pennsylvania Ave in Washington has whipped up a clusterfud of confusion and destruction in Iran. All hell seems to be breaking loose, but this is nothing new. In 1979, when Iranians took control of our embassy in Tehran, I was pondering those events, trying to comprehend the historical precedents that had provoked such rage among the Iranian people. Considering history. . . ancient history, as documented in that ancient book, the Bible, I turned to the chapter that had been written by a Hebrew named Nehemiah. He was serving as an aide to Artaxerxes, the Persian king, in Susa, the capitol city; it was a far cry from his home in Jerusalem. 

Nehemiah had written, back in those ancient times, an account of his request to King Artaxerxes, a document that is now included in the biblical canon. The biblical account of their conversation is found in chapter two of the book of Nehemiah. The king asked his aide, Nehemiah: "Why is your face sad, though you are not sick? This is nothing but sadness of heart? What would be your request?" Nehemiah replied: "If it please the king, and if your servant has found favor before you, send me to Judah, to the city of my fathers' tombs, that I may rebuild it." That was then, a long, long time ago, in a kingdom far away. Nowadays, things are different. Oh, how times have changed! That ancient cooperation between a Jew and a Persian king is a thing of the past. In 1979, our American embassy in Tehran Iran was attacked by Iranian zealots. They held as hostages, our US State Department ambassadors and staff, for 444 days. At that time, I wrote a song about the circumstances surrounding our diplomats and other peacemakers in the Middle East region. The song, December '79, included these lines: "There's a Jew on the one side, Muslim on the other, and Abraham in between. Open the Koran; open the Torah, but look at John 3:16. He (Jesus)came to show us that all men are brothers, however it may seem." I am a Christian, a follower of Jesus, who teaches: "Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called sons of God." Now in this day and time, we see something different happening there, between Israel and Iran . What it is ain't exactly clear; there's prez with some bombs over here, telling the Iranians to beware. Stop, hey, what's that sound? Everybody look what's going down!. . .  But my song, now 46 years old, is still relevant; it is a plea for peace. It includes these words: Sons of Isaac, come together; sons of Ishmael too; come and behold the Lamb of God, who came to see us through; He came to bring us the sword of the Spirit, in the tradition of Abraham. Sword of the flesh, soon obsolete, He brings peace to the family of Man. We've got a song to sing; we've got a bell to ring; we've got a loving king in Jesus! You can listen to the December '79 recording, when, with a little help from me friends, we recorded it in Asheville. Here's the link on http://www.careyrowland.com  http://www.micahrowland.com/carey/WeGottaSong.mp3 King of Soul

Advise and Consent

In ancient history, there was a Persian king, Cyrus, who conquered the Babylonians; Cyrus was sucseeded by Darius. During the reign of Darius, a Hebrew prophet, Daniel, provided good counsel, which was later included in the prophetic books of that ancient book, the Bible. In my Bible, I find, in the book of Daniel. . . history, prophecy and wisdom that was relevant to the events of that time, but also, in a larger sense, human events as they unfold in all ages, including this modern age in which we live and move and have our being.

In the 11th chapter of Daniel, we find these words: "the king will do as he pleases, and will exalt and magnify himself. . .he will show no regard for the gods of his fathers. . .but instead, he will honor a god of forces. Rumors from the east and from the north will disturb him, and he will go forth with great wrath to destroy and annihilate many." So. . . that was the prophetic observation of an ancient prophet about historical events that happened long, long ago in a kingdom far, far away. But I can't help but notice a similarity between that ancient self-obsessed king and the present occupant of our oval office, a president who has no respect for - perhaps no awareness - of our American Constitution and our historic Rule of Law; donald trump's recent missile attacks directed at the people of (Persia)Iran may be a weird, ironic coincidence - an odd instance of history repeating itself, but in reverse! But we Americans have a Constitution - and a Congress - that promulgates aggression against foreign enemies; trump has no authority to declare war against Iran; he has no authority to take it upon himself against the Iranian people. So, here is what our our former president, Bill Clinton, said about trump's unauthorized, illegal missile attacks on Iran: "So here's what I'm asking of every American. . .I'm asking you to pay a attention. I'm asking Congress - both parties - to assert its Constitutional role. Not next month. Now. . . I'm asking the administration to present a plan - not a social media post - a plan, for what comes after the bombs stop falling. I'm asking all of us to remember that democracy is not a spectator sport. It requires every single one of us to remember; stay engaged; s stay informed, and hold our leaders to the highest standard, especially when the stakes are life and death.We've been through hard times before; we've made mistakes before; But America, at its best, has always found a way to correct course, not because our leaders are perfect, but because our people demand better. That's the thing about this country. The power was never really in the oval office. It was always with you. God bless the men and women in uniform; God bless the people of Iran who want to be free." As for me and my blog. . . just sayin', as a citizen of these United States, I agree with President Clinton. With trump's abuse of power, We the People should endorse out Congress to remove trump from the oval, because of his presumptuous, unauthorized murder of Iranian citizens. Impeach trump now: get it done! Glass half-Full

Thanks to Porter

A funny thing happened on the way to my email this morning. I got a long message from Porter Stansberry. His message was so interesting, (and so convincing) that I decided to write a reply, and here it is: Thank you for this comprehensive analysis. Your perception and analysis is quite accurate. Even so, it borders on irrelevance. That's because, the largest, most important issue of this life is what happens at the end of it - and how that belief, or determination, relates to our decisions about how this earthly life ought to be conducted. There was a man (he happened to be a Jew) who lived 2000 years ago. He lived, and he taught, in a manner that was disruptive to the Roman/Hebrew culture of that Palestinian era. His message of peace, self-control, love of fellow man, and yes, love of our Creator, was well received by many people. Nevertheless, his revolutionary message of love and compassion for others - especially people of low status - that message, along with his mounting popularity - landed him in the precarious middle of a cultural, Empirical controversy. And so the powers that be got together and solved their problem by putting an end to Him. But not to worry. Three days after his execution, Jesus woke up. He awakened - not from sleep - but from death itself.

And if you believe that, I've got some real estate in heaven that we'll share with you. By the way, this message is the most important that you will ever receive. The consequences surrounding the end of each (of our) human life. . . are far more important to consider and act upon than any worldly issue, whether its global warming, climate change, personal identity, sexual identity, magamania, peace on earth, pieces of the pie, or any politician's lie. . . So therefore, I recommend that you educate yourself about this man, Jesus, and his message of eternal peace and love. You can read all about it in the best-selling book on this planet. . . you know that old volume that is usually contained in a black cover. You can find it in most bookstores, all libraries, and in the shelves of many of your neighbors. Just ask around. You won't be disappointed. I guarantee, and if you don't believe me. . .as Dylan said. . ."look around you; its bound to make you embarassed." This life is quite confusing, so it's not really worth hanging onto. So follow the example of the One who conquered death itself. King of Soul

Boston's Beating Heart

The heartbeat of our United States of America began in 1620, when the Pilgrims, a religious group striving to break away from European constraints, landed on the north American continent. From that time onward, American Liberty was taken very seriously, expressed maximally in our Declaration of Independence in 1776, and our US Constitution in 1781. Massachusetts was the seedbed of our liberty, actualized in those early days by firebrand Boston patriots. That history is acknowledged nowadays in the name of the NFL team, the New England Patriots. With all due respect to the football team, I'll mention that the word "patriots" has a much deeper meaning than any gridiron team can represent. If you will walk through Boston today, as I did, you'll notice that this city still has an obsession with expressing and exporting Liberty and Justice for all Americans. . . because, you see. . .It all started here, in Boston. As a 74-year-old southerner, I am amazed at these Boston preservations and commemorations of our Liberty legacies. While strolling through the Massachusetts State House today (what we call a state capitol) I was pleasantly surprised to enter into a very large room, the Great Hall, where American liberties are still being actively recognized, utilized, and maximized, as citizens assemble to express themselves in a manner that can only be described as "American." 

Being a clueless visitor, I did not linger long enough to discern the purposes for which this gathering of citizens had assembled, and I could not get close enough to the orators to discern their message, but I was aware that our American "Liberty and Justice for all" was being demonstrated and actualized in this great hall of the Massachusetts State House. Paul Revere, John Adams, John Hancock, who was the first patriot to sign our Declaration of Independence . . .

and Frederick Douglass would all be proud of the heritage that these patriots had initiated by their bold demands for Independence, and for Liberty and Justice for all Americans. . . and furthermore. . . for all peoples everywhere, if we Americans have anything to do with it.  These Massachusetts citizens even have, in their State House, a Liberty Bell with no crack in it!

Glass half-Full

Ravenous Phone

While I wandered, meek and dreary, over many a vain and curious volume of online lore, suddenly there came a beeping, as of something online bleeping. . . some message beeping up at my phoney door, as of someone bleeping on my smarty phone but sounding like a phonish drone T'is some caller, I muttered, buzzing at my phony door, only this and nothing more. Pshaw! I get a bleep, just as I am tuned for sleep, but probably Cloudius, the Ai creep, blinking, winking, spamming at my phony door: only this and nothing more. some voice speaking in a dronish tone, bleeping on my smarty phone, droning to my apple core, only this and nothing more. . . like Kubrick's space oddyssey computer pal, spamming like a handheld Hal Here's a call. what comes next, looking like a spam. I have a phone; therefore I am. I'm Shmeegle glimpsing the golden glint in the stream, but having not a hint, clueless of this glassy machine even though I take it everywhere I go. So now I ponder; at last I'm napping: no more tapping on my phoney door. Yeah, I shut the phoney door; I flung it down upon the floor. (just kidding; maybe one day.) Now I lay me down to sleep; do not disturb me with your beep. Ask for me tomorrow and you will find me a phoneless man… if I can. oh oh . . .maybe not. You may think I'm just an ole baby boomer; but that is just a phoney rumor. But someday I'll fly away from this phoney world to my eternal home. 

Glass half-Full

Shakesdownian Tragedy

A classic Shakedownian tragedy unfolds now, unexpectedly, as Mctrump, thane of MarLago, discovers, with horror, his dunce-in-game doth move against Bretton Woods, the 82-year-old fiscal/financial arrangement of the free world, just as the witch of endorgame destruction had predicted. There's no joy left in wall street; mighty Donald has struck out. Wall Street traders frown as the Dow doth trickle down; S&P's lower their standards as Poor investors are constrained to redirect their assets toward new depositories. Just as the witch of End-our-rally had predicted. As wise investors and financial wizards think again. . . as they reroute their wealth through Carney's new Toronto/Euro/Davos financial superhighway, instead of Mctrump's tarriffizing toll booth, the donald discovers that his Dunce-in-game-castle, soon to be bogged down in the sands of obsolescence, is being dismantled. . . as the Bretton Woods - that NATO/world financial forum witch is now 82 years old . . . creeps, slowly Bretton Woods creeps. . . step by step, toward destruction, just like tricky dick's CREEP, the committee to re-elect the president back in '73 . . . but now in 2026. . . step by step, tranche by tranche, toward Mctrump's doomed dunce-in-game castle. Yeah, I say unto thee that now the old yankee-dollar-based world wealth web doth disappear into thin air

as the nations of the world redirect their wealth streams into the international loo, and set their assets down on new terms of of Euro, Renmimbi, Ruble, Rupee, francly speaking, and pounds, shillings, sterling, dinar, mark, riel, rupee, real, leu, krones, maybe even skull and bones, but mainly probably renmimbi, since the Chinese are now able, or so it seems, to Xijinping their way beyond dollar dependency, as the Xi hits the fans of international wealth exchange. I mean, there it is, in the distance, on the other side of the world, where BRICs are being stacked up to construct a new world order, apart from yankee comfort stations. . .thanks to Mctrump's maga being dissembled, as Bretton Woods slithers against his dunce-in-game antics, the wide pathway is now opening up for China. . allied with the other BRICs, on the other side of the world. . .

But On a lighter note. . . As for me and my house, in the winter of '26, we divert a small portion of our food stocks to feed the birds who frequent our Appalachian homestead. In so doing, we folllow the example of our Creator, providing feed for the birds, as Jesus had spoken, back in the ancient days, about how the birds of the air are fed by their father in heaven, or as is the case here. . . by the Rowland household.

By the grace and provision of God, we are enabling the birds to, as Ringo had said, "get by with a little help from me friends." They need not worry about worldly finances. Smoke

We Stand Corrected

We Americans stand corrected. We are not standing back; we are not standing by. I don't know but I been told this nation was founded on a Constitution that's 245 years old. I was born in the Deep South in 1951, but I ain't no rebel; I choose to be an American citizen with all the rights and privileges thereof, just like all the other citizens of this country, whether they're black, brown, yellow or purple. . . purple meaning they can't decide which political party they belong to, because trump has taken over the oval by hook or by crook, even after the proud boueys and the oathbleepers and the threeperdenters failed to clusterfud our Congress on January 6, 2021. Now I don't know but I been told that Abraham Lincoln and some anti-slavery patriots founded the Republican party in 1854; And we had to fight a civil war to get all those slavers in the deep south in line with our Declaration, which says that "All men are created equal, and are endowed by their Creator with life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness." And then, five years later, we wrote our Constitution, which was later upgraded when Congress added our 14th amendment in 1868, after our yankee patriots had whooped the rebels' asses at Gettysburg, where President Lincoln said:

"from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave their last full measure of devotion - that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain - that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom - and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth." Now I don't know but I been told that these magamaniacs nowadays are still claiming to be Republicans, with their gerrymandering racist antics, as if they were still allied with the party of Lincoln. As for me and my lousy situation, I am still a registered Republican; but I notice that, as bro' Bob sang, a while back, "things have changed." So I'm having an identity crisis. Meanwhile, back at our Boone homestead, I guess I'll have to go down to the county courthouse to switch my registration to Democratic. I guess I'll join up with the party of Jesse Jackson. I mean, I might as well. . . I shook hands with him one time while crossing the street. That was the year that the Democrats had their convention in Charlotte. In an earlier year, Jesse had been with Dr. King when he was shot dead in Memphis by some rebel racist.  And now. . . come to find out Jesse just died, a patriot who, like Dr. King and Medgar Evers, had given his first and last devotion to the the cause of civil rights and freedom and dignity for all people.

 And I find that bro' Jesse had said that America's like a patchwork quilt, with all the patches stitched together by a common thread. Now in honor of Jesse, and Martin and Abraham, we need that common thread stitched up tight; we must not let it be slithered by the magamaniacs, the faux republicans, the insurrectionists and the trumpists. You know, the Bible says that when Jesus returns, the trumpet shall sound. Not the trumpists! Blessed are the peacemakers! And as Dr. King had said:  "And I did try, in my life, to feed the hungry, to clothe the naked, to visit those who were in prison, to love and serve humanity. . ." That's the common thread that we need to keep stitching into the fabric of America! Glass half-Full</i>

Advising the King

The Widening gyre continues from long, long ago, right into the here and now. Even so, ponder the past, the present and the future. Beginning with the past: About 26 centuries ago. . . a wise aide, Daniel, while speaking to the king of Babylon, Nebuchadnezzar, delivered counsel that is and ought to be advised for leaders in all of history, all eras, seasons, all continents. Daniel said this: "This is the interpretation, O king, and this is the decree of the Most High, which has come upon my lord, the king: . . . that you be driven away from mankind and your dwelling place be amongthe beasts of the field, and you be given grass to eat like cattle, and be drenched with the dew of heaven; and seven periods of time will pass over you, until you recognize that the Most High Lord of the Universe (God) is ruler over the realm of mankind; and He bestows authority on whomever He enables." (You catch my drift?) "And in regarding that it was commanded to leave the tree stump with the roots of the tree (see Daniel chapter 4 in the Old Testament) your kingdom will be assured to you after you recognize that it is the Creator of the Universe who is still is charge of these developments. Therefore, O king, my advice to you would be: break away now from doing what is wrong, by performing rightly and by showing mercy to the poor, in the event that your prosperity is prolonged." Meanwhile, civilization kept going along the time trail. . .And then. . . and then 600 years passed.

Jesus, Yeshua ha Meschiach, came along; he prescribed the way toward true peace, love and justice for all mankind: Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the true authority; Blessed are the people who are gentle, for they shall inherit the earth. Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for what is right; they shall be satisfied. Blessed are the merciful folks, for they shall obtain mercy. Blessed are the peacemakers; for they shall be called sons and daughters of the Lord of All. Blessed are they who have been persecuted for the sake of doing what is right, for theirs is the eternal kingdom of heaven. Now there's some serious longevity! Glass half-Full

the New World to Come

Profound words to read in the ancient book: “And I saw, in the right hand of Him who sat on the throne, a book written inside and on the back, sealed up with seven seals. And I saw a strong angel proclaiming with a loud voice, ‘Who is worthy to open the book, and to break its seals?’ And no one in heaven or on the earthor under the earth was able to open the book and to and to break or to look into it. Then I began to weep greatly because no one was found worthy to open the book or to look into it; and one of the elders said to me, ’Stop weeping; behold, the Lion of the tribe of Judah, the root of David, has overcome so as to open the book and its seven seals.’ And I saw between the throne (with the four living creatures) and the elders, a Lamb standing, as if slain, having seven horns and seven eyes, which are the seven Spirits of God, sent out into the earth. And he came and he took the book out of the right hand of Him who sat on the throne. When He had taken the book, the four living creatures and the twenty four elders fell down before the Lamb, each one holding a harp and golden bowls of incense, which are the prayers of saints. And they sang a new song, saying: ‘Worthy are you to take the book and to break its seals; for you were slain; and you procured, for the Lord, with Your blood, men from every tribe and language, and every people group, every nation. You have made them to be a kingdom and priests, preachers, proponents for our Lord. In the long run, they will reign on the earth.’ ”

The bottom line is: The eternal kingdom established by Jesus. He, having conquered death itself, and along with that. . . having conquered all of our sin, all our depravity, all of our insurrection and rebellion against the Creator of Life itself, and having defeated our degenerate attempts to correct ourselves and the world we inhabit. . . You should prepare now, to be with Him! Hear Revelation 5:9 Carey Rowland

Wreck of the American Congress

I borrowed some poetic structure and phrasing from our Canadian neighor, Gordon Lightfoot. His classic song, "Wreck of the Edmund Gerald" was a masterpiece of ballad composition. Because we, who live south of the border, suffered a destructive insurrection on Januar 6, 2021: The legend lives on from the Pilgrims on down, of the nation they call America. The nation, it is known, goes on and on, though the riots of Jan6 turned looney. With a flag of stars and stripes, fifty states still intact, a Constitution and Congress acting boldly,  our nation was no bone to be chewed by a mob of loud boys, oath breakers and riotous boys Our nation is the pride of the American people, holding steady from election to election. As the world nations go, we are stronger than most, with a Constitution and Congress well seasoned. Concluding some terms with Electoral returns, when the Congress was meeting in session, in the middle of the day when the Congress bell rang, could it be the insurrection they were hearing?

The shouts in the halls made a tattle tale sound and some loud boys broke into the session. When counting time came, the vice president said, Electors, it's too rough to count 'em. The Speaker called in they had attackers coming in and the Congress and crew were in peril And later that day when law and order went outa sight came the January 6th insurrection. Does anyone know where the Rule of Law goes when rioters ran our Congress into hiding? The searchers all say we'd have saved it that day if the guards had not been beaten and smattered. They might have fell down or they might have been tazed when our ship of state was in peril. Now all that remains is our congress trying to sail 'er. America rolls on, ship of state still in peril, still sailin' in the cities and states of our nation. Our states still united; our anthem we sing in the folds of American history. In a crusty ole ship of state we hang on in our Constitutional procedures. The Liberty bell rang and it rang fifty times, for each state in historic nation. Our rule of law lives on in the chambers of Congressional order.

Our nation, we recall, ain't insurrected; that's all. Liberty and Justice for all, and Congress won't take a fall! Glass half-Full

Ben Went Home

Ben had put away his labors and his cares, toward tranquility. Nearby the community of friends and believers stood waiting. We passed through paths of Bible study, prayer and fellowship. His labors now completed. As Ben approached God's Son,

His life crossed path with ours. The news spread among our people, from hour to hour. We had been gathering in Ben's earthly home, where Connie had made such hospitality known We never saw death coming, until a few days before Soon we knew, but were knowing not the day nor hour Ben's earthly life would, in heaven, begin again. And now it has resumed, with Jesus, born again. Eternal life with Jesus will go far, far beyond the paltry seventy-one years, now far gone. So now Ben has run his seventy-one year race. He's already met our Savior, Jesus, face to face. Do not be sad. Rejoice; be glad! King of Soul

The Bold Ai

If you're old timer like me, you may remember. . . back in the day. . . the old railroads, before jets were all the rage.

 Now trains are most folks third choice, after planes and cars. Also, if you're an old timer like me, you may be amazed at how , as Bard Bob had sung. . . the time's they are (and were) a 'changin'. . . Well sho'nuff, scruffy, they did, and now we got ourselves a brand spankin' new internet. . . well maybe not so new any more, since Hal, and TCP, cuz LSD had gone the way of the buffalo, and then there's IP and wobblies - but not like the old workers of the world union a hundred years ago. . . How big's your RAM? Are you ready for the dot.com craze? crazy baby! like, far out!, like wolfman jack used to say. . . and suddenly we're surfing on floppy discs and chomping down them megabytes and playin 'our gigabytes like rock bands used to play gigs. . . Then twitter came along. . . but it got X'd out by a musk ox heavyweight. . . Heavy, man! Far out! Facebook metastasized. Heavy, man!. . .like, far out! so cool. . . here's a little diddy I pecked out on the ole laptop. If you're old enough, maybe you can sing it to the old tune: 

Here's a little diddy I pecked out on the ole laptop. If you're old enough, maybe you can sing it to the old tune: I've been working on the internet, all the live long day. I've been tromping on the worldweb, just to pass the time away. Can't you hear the Ai calling, scrolling early in the morning? Can't you see the Ai scrolling. . . Lexi won't you blow; Siri won't you blow, Slexi, won't you roll your scroll! Someone's in the software with Lexi; someone's in the web, we know-oh,oh! Someone's in the webby with Siri, coding in the online flow. Fee, fie, fiddly Ai; uh,oh. . . Fee, fie fiddly Ai uh,oh. Fee fie, fiddly Ai, oh, coding on the online show. Ride, ride, ride them rails, baby! just like the old days. . . Underground Railroad Rides Again

Medgar Evers' Home

Medgar Evers was a Mississippi native, born in 1925. He was a US Army veteran who had fought in World War II. Upon returning to his Mississippi home, he was told to go to the back of the bus. After that incident, he served as field secretary in Mississippi. In June, 1963, Medgar was shot dead in his own front yard. 

In my novel, King of Soul, LSU students Donnie and Kevin take a road trip from Louisiana to Kent, Ohio in May, 1970. Along their travel path, they stop, in the night, at an historic spot in Jackson, Mississippi, the home of Medgar Evers. "I think it's that second or third house on the left," said Donnie." . . .with a carport, and a halfway-up brick wall on the front." He gazed into the driveway. "That's where he was when they shot him." "Damn," said Kevin. . . "in his own front yard! What is wrong with these people?" He stopped the car. The two young men stared at the house. . . "One thing that sticks in my memory - the next day. I had just walked in our house, which is only about three miles from here. . . When I went home that day, my mother said that our maid, Aleen, would not be coming in that day, because Medgar Evers had been shot. . ." But beyond the murderous crimes of this world, we Christians know that Medgar was taken up to heaven, to join the ranks of all men and women who have ever believed in Jesus for Resurrection. He had just left a Wednesday night church meeting when a racist murderer fired the shot that delivered the disciple of Christ into heaven. 

What's tragic is that the racist and magamaniac assassins of this world do not comprehend that we Christians will all be gathered together in the everlasting Life of Jesus Christ, who died a criminal death, and yet lived to tell about it.  Jesus said: "My sheep hear my voice, and I know them; and they follow me; and they will never perish - no one will snatch them out of my hand!" King of Soul

Reflections on Ben's End

Yes, boobie; there is a natural body; but there is also a spiritual body. You believe that? Hold on to your horses; We're not done yet. It is written in the ancient book: The first man, Adam, became a living being; the last Adam, a life-giving spirit. The spiritual man did not come first, but the natural, and after that the spiritual. The first man was of the dust of the earth, as was the woman. 

The second man came from heaven. 

And just as we have borne the likeness of the earthly man, Adam. . .so shall we bear the likeness of the man from heaven, Jesus. . .We Christians declare to you, ye people of the earth, that flesh and blood cannot inherit the eternal kingdom of God; nor does the perishable person inherit his/her perished body. (Hate to break it to ya, but we all know, at a certain adult age, that it's true: we will all breathe our last in THE BIG ONE, the last straw, the end of the line.  But hey! Listen up: I tell you a mystery. We shall not all sleep; be we shall all be changed - in a flash, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet. For the trumpet will sound (the trumpet that calls each person). . . to summon you and me, and my friend Ben, who just heard the call. . .

Ben Cox left this life, February 9th, 2026The dead will be raised, imperishible, and we will all be changed. For the perishable body must be clothed. . . in the long run. . . in the big picture of eternity. When that happens, then the saying that is written, "Death has been swallowed up in victory!" is manifested in each Christian life.  The grace to live a good life was given to us before the beginning of time, but it was fully revealed through the embodiment of Jesus Christ, who conquered death, after suffering through its slings and arrows of outrageous treatment. He demonstrated for us eternal life, immortality. . . with its fullest purpose and relevance through His teaching, His endurance, His conquest of death. ( We can comprehend this now.Thanks to the Hebrews writer, and Timothy). And now he has called my friend Ben home! Traveler's Rest

King of Soul