The Benjamin Key

In 1752, Benjamin Franklin caught the spark of electric energy that would change the world.

Two centuries later, Walter Benjamin caught the spark of watching. . . and then recovering from, both mega-evils of the 20th century. . . Russian communist murder and abuse. . .and also German nazi fascism.world-class murder and holocaust. He witnessed them both, first hand, and lived just long enough to tell about it. His testimony of that experience was recovered from the ashes of history by a few simple twists of fate, faith, and the sparks of inspiration that charge the human desire for liberty. Going back even further in time, the account of brothers Joseph and Benjamin in Genesis was a testimony of our Creator’s omniscient sparks to power up His redemptive ways and means of converting the storm clouds of human tragedy into enlightenment and redemption. As for the Benjamin of our era. . . Benjamin Netanyahu— he is in dire straits, caught between a rock and a hard place. . . panicking, over-reacting, slaughtering palestinians ostensibly for the sake of saving Israel. Has Benjamin forgotten the commandment that Moses had brought down in the Ancient days? Trying to save Israel by breaking the sixth commandment? How’s that working out for ya, Benjamin? But. . . news flash! Israel has already been saved!. . . if they will but turn to Yeshua ha Meschiach, the One they executed. But not to worry. . . the Lord’s omniscience and omnipotence used that crucifixion to show the world that we can, indeed, survive death itself, when we turn to YWHW, the Creator who brought all of us into this amazing world of hot flashes and cool recoveries. Retro flash!: Read the Benjamin story in Genesis, chapters 43-45. . . a testimony of God’s omniscience and redemptive omnipotence, in spite of the violent cruelty of fascist dictators and magamaniacal presidents who think they can solve the problems of the world by lobbing bombs and drones at Persians in Hormuz. We live in a cruel world. Some day, each one of us—you and I— will leave this world and be delivered to our final destination, heaven or hell. I don’t about you, but when my time comes and I enter heaven, I will greet, joyfully, my old friend Benjamin, who lit the spark of pastoral care and brotherhood with me before taking leave from this world of sorrow, woe, loss and recovery, misery and joy. Before we leave this world, we should all catch the spark of eternal life. . . like the Quaker gentleman, Benjamin Franklin caught the spark on a kite wire, back in the early days of America.

Glass half-Full

Baseball

Watching the old black and white TV in the 1950’s, the memory of Dizzy Dean and Pee Wee Reese was etched into my mind. Growing up in the deep south, the New York Yankees, Boston Red Sox. . . the Phillies, the Pirates, the White Sox, the Cubs. . . the heroic masters of baseball. . . Mickey Mantle, Roger Maris, Yogi Berra. . . they were heroes, visible on our TV screens, with Dizzy and PeeWee providing the commentary that informed us of what was happening on the field. . . . . .a swing and a miss. . . a ground ball to Boyer; he scoops it, makes the throw, and beats the runner at first, Mazeroski out, and that retires the side, with Pittsburgh up by one as we go into the fifth inning (or) . . . there’s a high fly ball out to left field, Willie Mays has it, for the second out, as Cletis Boyer steps up to the plate, hoping to get the Cardinals back into this ball game.

Such was the ongoing dialogue between Dean and PeeWee in every game that they covered for television audiences all over the nation. . . and not only the events of the game, the changing scores. . . the dynamic duo of sports broadcasting had plenty of history and experience and professional insight into the game itself. Dizzy and PeeWee had total understanding of the game, both having been star players back in the day. . . In 1947, our nation was still torn apart with racism and discrimination against black folks. Jackie Robinson. When he was promoted from the Dodgers farm team up to the Dodgers roster. He endured horrible abuse from the crowds, and even from his teammates. As for their opponents on the diamond, hatred and name-calling was terrible. During Jackie’s earliest pro games, some pitchers actually aimed their pitches at Jackie’s head. But Jackie got by, and excelled, with a little help from a few friends.

His ardent defender on the Dodgers team was Pee Wee Reese. During a pre-game warmup, the fans were heckling Jackie loudly. Pee Wee, captain of the team, went over to Jackie, had a brief talk with him, and put his arm on Jackie’s shoulder, an obvious, very public, gesture of kindness, friendship and confidence. That was one small gesture for man, one giant leap for mankind! I wasn’t even born yet. About ten years later, I would be watching TV on Saturday a afternoon, listening to Pee Wee and Dizzy report on a game, maybe the Yankees, or the Braves, or the Pirates, the Phillies, Dodgers. . . Meanwhile, in hundreds of neighborhoods somewhere America, young boys were gathering for a baseball game. In their imagination. . . “Now it was time for Mickey Mantle, Roger Maris, Yogi Berra to step up to the plate, and Donnie and Mike and Joe, and whoever would show up, Jackie Robinson, Willie Mays and Hank Aaron. These boys, eight or nine of them, began to congregate at the large corner lot next to where the Thompsons live. There was no backstop or nothing like that, which really didn’t matter, they had all the time in the world, it being summer”. . . (excerpt from chapter two of my 2017 novel, King of Soul Baseball has been very very good to me!. . . and to America. . . and to the world!

Oh Canada!

Lake Ontario has been receiving water from Erie for a very long time, probably since the time when those Great Lake basins were carved out by glaciers in earth’s ice ago. Gordon’s Lightfoot’s legendary song about the building of the Canadian railway explains the flow of cold water. . .“Lake Huron rolls, Superior sings in the ruins of her ice water mansion. Old Michigan steams like a young man’s dreams; the islands and bays are for sportsmen. Farther below, Lake Ontario takes in what Lake Erie can send her.” Farther above, eastward, the St. Lawrence River takes in what the Atlantic Ocean and the Gulf of St. Lawrence can send to the city of Montreal. Gordon Lightfoot explains the building of the Great Canadian Railway, in mid-1800’s, beginning on the east end:“Up the St. Lawrence all the way to Gasp’e, swinging our hammers and drawing our pay, bringing the good to a young growing land, into the seaports and into the strand.” The St. Lawrence River terminates near Montreal. Here’s where my story begins. In 1968, I attended an international convention of Key Clubs International, a service organization of high school young men. The convention was hosted at the Queen Elizabeth Hotel in Montreal. I was fascinated by Canada. In the summer of 1971, when I was selling dictionaries door-to-door in southern Ohio, our LSU sales crew took a Saturday break to drive up to Columbus and catch a move. In the movie, “The Strawberry Statement”, the sound track included a song, “Helpless”. It’s funny how the mind captures memories in a random way. One of my most vivid memories was a scene picturing a night sky, with the sound track presenting Neil Young’s high tenor voice: “There is a town in north Ontario; all my changes were there. . . big birds flying across the sky, throwing shadows on our eyes, leaving us helpless, helpless. . . At that time, “helpless” is a word that could be applied to our collective efforts to dodge the draft and not have to go fight in Vietnam. Recently, I learned that the “helpless” may have applied to Neil Young’s bout with polio when he was a child. At the end of 1971, I traveled to Colorado and worked in a restaurant near Lake Eldora.A musical trio was providing entertainment. Their songstress, Casey, sang Joni Mitchell’s song, “River.” “It’s coming on Christmas; they’re cuttin’ down trees, puttin’ up reindeer and singing songs of joy and peace. Oh, I wish I had a river. . . I could skate away on.” Later, it must have been the summer of ’72 . . . someone handed Joni Mitchell’s “Blue” album to me. It included that song about the River; also on the album was the song “Carey”, which was neither here nor there, but kind of interesting to me who had been fascinated by the idea of skating on frozen river and also Joni’s affair with some fellow whose name was the same as mine. But that’s neither here nor there. What I’m seeing now is that there was something special about Canadian song writers. . . Gordon, Neil, Joni. But hey! What about Leonard Cohen? Another vivid memory from those college days. . . I had watched a documentary movie about Richard Nixon. Walking out of the theater, a friend of mine, Maureen, told me: “don’t do anything rash!” Well, ok. A few minutes latter, she said something about Leonard Cohen. Now Maureen was from New York City, and she knew a lot about people up north. I remember she said that Leonard Cohen is “down!” . . . like, he’ll bring you down, not like all the fluff that was coming out of Haight Ashbury at that time. Meanwhile back at the homestead in 2026, remembering all these Canadians who had such an impact on my life, even before I had made my two record albums many years later. . . Joni’s song, A Case of You includes this line: “On the back of a cartoon coaster, in a blue TV screen light, I drew a map of Canada. Oh Canada! with your face sketched on it twice.”

One You Tube video that I saw today identified Leonard as the man she had been referring to in the song. But we’ll never know for sure.

Now Leonard is gone. Goodbye, Leonard. I hope you made it to heaven so that you could say, “even though it all went wrong, I stand before the Lord of song with nothing on my tongue but “Hallelujah!” As for those Canadian songwriters, I greatly appreciate them. And I found all the Canadians that I ever met to be very good people. . . which is why it makes no sense to me that the oval office occupant wants to steal Lake Ontario away from Mark Carney and the peaceful Canadians. King of Soul

The Hebrew Strain

Ever since the adopted son of an Egyptian pharoah noticed the mistreatment of his relatives. . . ever since Moses took a stand against pharoah’s enslavement of his relatives. . . ever since he rounded up the Hebrews and led them out of Egypt, declaring to pharoah, “let my people go!” Ever since the Jews descended into the desert, found themselves disorganized and in dire straits, provoking Moses to climb up on the mountain, not knowing what would happen next. Ever since Moses came down from the mountain with the Ten Commandments,

and ever since Moses decided to document those events, along with the earlier events. . . going all the way back to the moment when YWHW moved upon the waters and created the world. . . ever since all that happened and Moses wrote the history, going all the way back to the era before Moses, when YWHW called Abraham from Ur and directed him to a westward place. . . ever since that time, the literate world has been a recipient of that ancient Hebrew strain of stories. Ever since one Hebrew, Jesus Christ was nailed to a cross, setting the stage for resurrection and the assurance of life after death for every person who believes it. . . ever since all those ancient days faded into the past, the documentation of all those amazing events has spread throughout the world like wildfire. When the great majority of western people turned to Christ for guidance, salvation and eternal Life, the Hebrew strain has continued, both branches: the Hebrew strain and the Christian strain. As European empires prospered and expanded over two thousand years, the Hebrew strain continued to prosper, through the ghettos of Europe, through shtetels of the Ukraine and the cities of Europe, stroking out an ancient klesmerish tune while maintaining a delicate balance on the roof of the civilization.

In the midst of a Christianizing European continent, the Jews managed to live and prosper on the sidelines, with their synagogues and temples. Being ignored, or even rejected in the channels of gentile power and authority, they cultivated thrift, developing a talent for handling money and other assets, and a reputation for cunning in the markets of Europe. And so the Hebrew strain prospered and grew, like grape vines bearing fruit from age to age. Jews were known for their prosperity, thriftiness and their tight communities in which they loved and helped each other to an extent that enabled them to overcome the prejudice of gentiles. After the terrible crucible of war—1914-1918—a German magamaniac rounded up a band of nazi thugs an attempted to extinguish the Jews from the earth. But hitler’s demented, demonic project ended in 1945 when the Allied armies put a stop to his murderous third reich holocaust in 1945. After that Allied victory, the Jews who had survived and/or escaped the holocaust continued to prolong the Hebrew strain, with mothers and fathers having children, just like Moses and Sarah in ancient times. A bold cadre of the Jews took it upon themselves to get back to their ancient homeland, thereby establishing the nation of Israel, in 1948. And so we see that the Hebrew strain goes on and on, as it has ever since Moses started documenting it. And so we see that the Hebrew strain goes on and on, as they continue to pray.

Glass half-Full

Deep South

Growing up in the deep south cultivates a memory torn between tragedy and liberty.Nine decades after Lincoln’s Emancipation, Justice demanded a Supreme Court decision to open the gates of public education for four children in Little Rock. Racist whackos were still hiding in the hedges, waiting for Medgar Evers to get out of a car in his own driveway across the street. . . so they could shoot him dead. Years later, when Martin Luther King Jr. addressed a church gathering, on a fateful night in Memphis, he told them that he had received a phone call, from “an ugly voice”, It was a warning. But Martin was a brave American; he understood his rights as a citizen of these United States. The next day, a racist gunman shot him dead. Martin was only following the example of his ancient predecessor, Moses, when he said: “I’ve been to the mountaintop; and I’ve seen the promised land. . . I may not get there with you.” The next day, a racist gunman shot him dead. After that, after the Freedom Riders. . . after federal marshals enforcing admittance for black students, an alert Canadian, Neil Young, recorded a song, “Southern Man”, with an admonition: “Southern man, don’t forget what your Good Book says!” Not too long after that, a rock group from Alabama wrote a song with this line: “I hope Neil Young will remember, southern man don’t need him around anyhow.” Not to worry, Neil. . . there’s a bright spot shining from east Tennessee. Heaven had birthed a songbird maiden in the hills of east Tennessee, to brighten the dark deep south. . . to gently guide southerners toward a tolerant, gospelistic renovation of their obsolete redneck racism. The saving grace of southern culture on the skids emerged from a river valley in East Tennessee, when a princess was born. Dolly went over to Nashville and initiated a regal recovery of southern decency. Her bold, melodic voice inspired folks to get out of their ruts, out of their riots, rise and shine, and redirect their attention to the mellow tranquility of the deep south. . . relax in a rocker. . . the songbird from Sevierville sang: Sittin’ on the front porch on a summer afternoon. . . june bugs, fireflies in the cooling evening. . . in her Tennessee Mountain Home.

Dolly rescued the ole South, redirecting our attention to the finer things in life. Dolly lit up the grand ole opry and the southern airwaves like a cool mountain breeze, with rocollections of sitting in a rocker on the front porch on a summer afternoon. . . then in the fall, puttin’ on that coat of many colors that mama made, moments of the good life so that workin’ 9 to 5 to make a living wouldn’t be such an ordeal. And yes, Johnny Reb, the deep south did indeed rise again. . . born again into a new identity of equality, generosity, humility and joy, with a little help from Abraham, Martin, John, and Dolly. Now, while peckin’ out messages from my Appalachian mountainside home, we will remember, yes, we will remember the Deep South. Yes, indeed, we sho’nuff did rise again! King of Soul

Labor

Put on your clothes. Tie your shoes. Make the bed. Eat breakfast. Prepare lunch. Go to school. Read. Write. Do mathematics. Ride to the burger chef. Flip burgers. Bag french fries. Switch jobs. Bag groceries. Operate a cash register. Graduate. Go to college. Study. Sell shoes. Wash dishes. Sell books door to door. Stock shelves in drug store. Graduate. Move to another state. Sell insurance. Sell advertising. Live in a jail for two days. Move to another state. Sell printing. Operate a paper-cutting machine. Get saved.Get married. Move into a house. Raise children. Read the ancient scriptures every morning. Operate a paper-folding machine. Assemble furniture in a factory. Move into another house. Tie rebar for bridge construction. Pour concrete. Build houses. Nail boards together.

Move to another city. Manage a church renovation. Paint houses.

Move into a new house. Fix plumbing. Maintain apartments. Write books. Publish books. Set the dinner table. Entertain guests. Load the dishwasher. Then. . . Sleep that knits the raveled sleeve of care. . . sleep, perchance to dream. . . dreams you can never remember. Pack luggage. Drive to the coast. Jump in the ocean. Drive home. Write. Blog. Cook dinner. Rinse dishes. Sweep the floor. Vacuum the floors. Paint the house. Clear the gutters. Take a vacation. Fly across the continent. Fly across the ocean. Vacation. Return home. Unpack luggage. Go back to work. . . busy as. bees.

Man works from sun to sun; Woman’s work is never done. Lend a helping hand. Watch the seasons pass. Remember the years past. Then one fateful day, your labors are over. . . slip into the eternal room, to join ancestors, to greet the Son of Man who conquered death itself, stepping into eternity, treading streets of gold. . . a great way to conclude this life of love, labor and looking back on it all. . . Life, a labor of Love. Glass Chimera

Water

In the beginning, . . . Creator combined His first element, hydrogen, with his eighth element, oxygen. . . Spirit 0f God was moving over the surface of the waters, spreading in waves and ripples, streams and waterfalls. . .

mists and clouds. . .

. . . even rainbows.

When Creator created man and woman, they found themselves in a garden of earthly delights, what must have been a very special project. Later, when Adam and Eve made a bad choice, Creator sent them out into the real world, where all the evolving neanderthals and homo sapiens were contending for for food, shelter, power and just about everything. Survival of the fittest. . . the strongest, the powermongering magamaniacs. . . evolved into a situation that was friggin’ ridiculous, cruel, unjust . . . a far cry from what Creator had originally intended. So much for free will! Creator decided to wipe the slate and the surface of the earth clean. He chose water as his judgement medium. . . the old H2O compound, , , useful in so many applications. Creator doused the earth so thoroughly that the flood destroyed every living thing, except Noah’s ark and Noah and his family and creatures great and small that he had so judiciously loaded unto the ark. “Old Noah; he led a quiet life. . . always tried to do right. He heard about the ones who rambled and strayed from the path. He never thought he’d live to see the freedom, never thought he’d live to see the day. . . ’til he turned around one day and had to say: It ain’t gonna rain no more!” After the flood, the earth and Noah made a good recovery. Hundreds of thousands of years went by. In 1923, poet Robert Frost froze fifty words into a classic poem; his musing about how the next worldwide disaster would happen. . . whether by extreme cold or extreme heat. But we know from the testimony of the Jesus’ closest companion, John, that the next apocalypse will be by fire. . . maybe something like the Hiroshima bomb, but with maga-MEGAton destructability. It won’t be a hurricane, or a Noah-era flood. It won’t be a water ending, because the Judge of mankind promised Noah that the worldwide flood would not happen again. Whatever happens. . . we know that the enemy, the one who screwed up Adam and Eve’s condo in the beginning is still, and always, trying to topple our efforts to do the right thing!

People get ready; there’s a train a’coming, picking up passengers who are bound for heaven! You don’t need no ticket; you just get on board the Gospel train. Believe in the Man who came and proved to the whole world, past and present, that He IS One with the Creator who was moving across the waters. . . and has kept them moving ever since His Son to walk on the water! And if you believe that, I’ve got some real estate in heaven I’ll share with you when I sail into that heavenly realm. Glass half-Full

North Carolina

When I was a teenager in the 1960’s, I had a record player that would spin black vinyl 33 rpm disks, sending musical waves like magic into my room so I could listen to Peter, Paul and Mary, or Judy Collins, or the Beatles, or Joan Baez. Joan, as an authentic folk singer, before folk was later merged into rock, sang a song called “East Virginia”, which included these words, “I was born in East Virginia; North Carolina I did roam; there I met a fair, pretty maiden; her name and age I never did know.” Later, much later, that’s exactly what I did, except I did know her name, and she has shared my name, Rowland, for 45 years. We passed that family name onto our son and two daughters. But anyway, getting back to my North Carolina memories. . . James Taylor came along at some moment in time with his song “Carolina on my mind”. That must have been the genesis of my decision to move there in 1974. Later, much later, our two daughters studied Journalism and University of North Carolina, Chapel. That was a year after our son joined the Duke blue devil brigade in Durham in the 1990’s. So, why North Carolina? While living on the gulf coast of Florida, back in ‘75, I saw a movie one night, “Where the Lilies Bloom”, about a family living in the mountains of North Carolina. I decided to move to that place, although I didn’t know much about it. One thing I did know, however, was that, back in the 1930’s, Thomas Wolfe had written the great American novel, Look Homeward Angel., a fictionalized autobiographical book about growing up in Asheville. So. . . long story short. . . that’s where I went, and stayed there until 1979. While working as a salesman for a printing company, I met the love of my life. Pat was a student at UNCAsheville. Her parents were living in Charlotte. Our frequent visits there provided an opportunity to become intimately familiar with the Queen City, named after the wife of King George III, the British monarch whose soldiers we had had to eject from America during our Revelation.

A little known fact about Mecklenburg County (greater Charlotte) is that the patriots there were the first Americans to write a declaration of Independence, even before we Americans all got together in Philadelphia to write the official, historic Declaration of Independence. Soon after Pat graduated from UNCA, we moved to Boone, where we’ve been ever since, except for a short two year experiment with coastal living in Wilmington in the mid ’80’s, which was very nice, but I guess we were born to be mountaineers, even though she was raised in New Jersey and I had emigrated from Louisiana. Boone is a town in the northwest corner, a few miles from Grandfather Mountain. I landed a job working with a crew of rodbusters to complete the Linn Cove Viaduct, the missing link of the Blue Ridge Parkway, which had not been completed back in the 1930’s.

One thing this is sure. The state of North Carolina is serious about literacy and education; that’s why we have campuses all over the state. . . Chapel Hill, Charlotte, Wilmington, including one in Boone named for our chosen region, Appalachian State University. Today we are relaxing on an Atlantic beach, on Oak Island, 322 miles from our home in the Blue Ridge.

Listen to the song I sang about putting on my Murphy-to-Manteo shoes: careyrowland

Beer

When I was a teen, I spoke as a teen and acted as a teen; but when I became a man . . . . . I think that was long-about 1965, when I started high school. But by the time I was a senior in high school, 1969, I was 18 and I decided to start acting like a man . . . My friend Ronnie had an old blue Ford sedan. On those Friday nights when we didn’t have dates, Ronnie and Keith and I would go cruising around town, visiting the local bars. Since we were old enough, we’d visit the bars to sit around and act like grownups, swigging glasses of Budweiser or Schlitz, maybe a Falstaff . . . listening to the sound track. There were a lot of popular songs to be heard on those occasions. Where I come from, Louisiana, soul music was the preferred sound trick most of the time. . . Sam Cooke, Otis Redding, Bobby “Blue” Bland, The Supremes. the Four Tops, Elvis, Ray Charles, Marvin Gaye. Then the music scene changed. It was the era when the Beatles and Gerry and Pacemakers, Dave Clark Five started working their way into the bars’ soundtracks. But for some reason, my memory of those Friday adventures always brings to mind Creedence Clearwater Revival. . . on the sound track of whatever bar we happened to be visiting. . . Proud Mary, Born on the Bayou, Green River, Bad Moon Rising, Down on the Corner, Fortunate Son , etc. Today, August 18, 2026, I was having Deja Vu, while my friend Rick was giving me a tour of his Topsail Island Brewery . . . because the tavern sound track featured a playlist for our boomer generation, which was refreshing for an old guy like me to hear. So who shows up on the sound track (wouldn’t you know it?) . . . Creedence Clearwater Revival! Of course. So I comprehend that not much has changed in the bar scene since 1969—at least for old geezers like me and Rick. Even though Rick’s Topsail. Island Brewery was established in 2024. I’m here to tell you that they are true to the authentic bar scene of our generation. When my old friend Rick wheeled his orange Jeep into the back door entrance this morning, Rick was just checking on a few things. We walked in the back door, and I was able to see the guts—the heart and soul innards— of a real brewery

Then we traipsed through to the bar itself, and out the front entrance, onto a large outdoor deck, where, in the evening, customers would be tipping a few mugs, perhaps bringing in some take-out food from Rick’s Restaurant, which is on the other end of the parking lot.

Walking out of the bar area, traipsing along the outside, we looked down into the duck pond. . . a pleasant site for visitors to watch as they’re imbibing a pint of Rick’s brew hometown brew.

Later, in the evening, we visited the brewery again, to enjoy a brew or two. But my brew choice would not be the old standards of Bud or Schlitz. Nosirree. The beer of choice is the hometown favorite, “Topsail Island Brew” brewed and bottled in Sneads Ferry, North Carolina, just a mile or two up the road from Topsail Island and the the Atlantic coast. And then we traipsed on over to Rick’s Restaurant and enjoy the evening meal, where the Topsail brews are included on the menu. Glass half-Full

Heat

In the beginning of all things great and small, Creator flung stars and planets into the universe. The stars provided light and heat; and so our planet was lit up by a star which we call the sun. Along with the light, heat followed. As life developed on earth, men and women found great benefits in the heat and the light. But we learned, early on, that there must be limits to the heat and light. Light was nice for awhile, but after about twelve hours or so, it was better to take a break from the light, by living, moving and having our being in the cool of the eventing and the restful dark of the night. And fire is very useful, but we have to be careful with it, so it doesn’t go hog wild!

In other observations, it was also obvious that, with the light, came heat, which was also quite beneficial, most of the time. But there were limits to what men and women could tolerate. We’ve learned in thousands of years of life on this planet that all things are good in moderation, This principle certainly applies to our life routines and habits. For instance, Florida is nice, but it’s awfully hot down there, and Alaska is nice, but it gets very cold in winter. So plan your travels and your visits accordingly. Minnesota is nice, but so is Louisiana, So plan your vacations and visits accordingly. This hot/cold dichotomy applies in any household. Maybe we have air conditioning in summer, but long about October, we switch to the heaters. In human society, we also have similar dynamics. Some guys are hotheads, getting all worked up with madness over stuff that just happens. Other people are cool, taking everything in stride, like, “no problemo.” When I mention hotheads, I can think of a few hotheads I have known, but mainly, what comes to mind are a few leaders in world history who made life miserable for a lot of people—or even worse—they killed a lot of folks for no good reason. For example, hitler and stalin, both of them cruel and destructive. . . and then, if that weren’t bad enough, along come whacko gunmen who start blowing people away in some public place for no good reason, like a murderous marksman in a high tower. . . or vlad the mad putin in Ukraine. . . or jack the ripper or the Boston stranger… all of them hot-headed whackos! The ancient prophets spoke and wrote about this tendency of some men to get very destructive in their depraved attempt to rule, and then destroy the world and its people. I don’t know, but I been told—and I read it in the book— that in the future time, some self-obsessed whacko may take hold of some nukes and blow the world to smithereens. What’s really strange about that is that the scientists who understand that complex nuclear weaponry theorize that the destruction will come in widespread super-heat. But here’s the weird thing about it; they say that after it blows over (however the hell long that takes!) the ultimate result will be a “nuclear winter”! Say what? No sh**!

Not to worry, though. Worry is a rocking chair; you rock and rock, but get nowhere. I think the poet Frost had this world figured out, to a certain point: “Some say the world will end in fire, some say ice.” But I say fughedaboudit! Whatever! If it come, it do, either way. . . nothing I can do about it. However, when it all pans out, or even if none of that terrible stuff happens in my lifetime, I’m placing my faith and hope in the Son of Man who was creating with Father and Spirit, back in the day. . . the very first day. You know “In the beginning. . .” Look it up in the old book. Then turn to the gospels where he conquers death itself, and reveals the divine purpose for all that hot and cold throughout history. Then turn to the final chapters. Read about the fire that will conclude the history of this planet. This hot and cold on earth has been going on, for a long, long, long time. . .ever since Creator moved across the waters and proclaimed Light into existence, and then gave Man permission to take charge of this earth. Glass half-full.

Life and Death

Wandering lonely as a cloud . . . through the ravines and the peaks of this amazing life. . .pausing . looking more carefully into the forest, . . as leaves begin falling in August, the first volunteers in a wave of seasonal rearrangement. . . stooping to examine veins in the leaf, feeling the breeze that separates another leaf from its life-branch. The leaf drifts to forest floor, joining the multitude of last year’s leaves. . . bowing to their destiny of dirt, which nourished the tree from which it fell, and will serve to nourish the neighboring trees. . . we discern the balance between death and life.

We become aware of evidence of processes we do not fully understand; we reach out to touch the substance of eternal LIfe that we hope for. Changing direction, adjusting focus, the aging human frame considers the veins in his arm, performing their bloody duty, standing more pronounced, at age 75, beneath the skin, carrying precious fluid to the micro-universe of a mortal body, a human reaching and hoping for an immortal destiny. . . wandering, wondering, we discover evidence of ongoing life; we encounter in our soul evidence of eternal life hoped for, but not yet seen, sustained by a faith that there was one Christ who conquered death itself. . . you gotta believe.

To make a connection between what we see, hear, smell and . . . eternity, we comprehend . . . every moment of life is precious. . . every day presents new possibility for rejoicing in the new day, the present day, anticipating days ahead, whether here in the forest, or . . .

Look up at the sky. Prepare to ascend with the clouds, as the rain ascends to the clouds before it returns to earth again. Milk every moment of life before the silver cord is broken, before the golden bowl is broken, before your trunk is taken. Live life to the fullest. . .(s)he not busy being born is busy dyin’. Glass half-Full

Carbon

In phase 8 of the universal creation, Creator summoned all the Elements together in order to give them purpose and function. Hydrogen stepped up quickly, so Creator designated him as #1. Then Helium came in and obtained #2. Lithium stepped up for the #3 spot; then Beryllium took #4, and Boron #5. The #6 spot was assigned to Carbon, and the rest is elementary history. Hundreds of thousands of years later, probably millions later, a certain writer, Carey, noticed some interesting characteristics about Carbon that he thought might be worthy of mention in the world wide web of information. . . interesting stuff to ponder. His early ventures into the wikiwatchee wild world of wonders brought him to an understanding that all the elements, all 103 of them, were grouped into catagories of valence. Valence is the power of any particular element to combine with other elements and entities. As luck and numbers would have it, carbon came in at the top of Group 14 in the elemental pecking order. Not a bad place to be, actually. . . as the great mandela of life and death on earth whirled through the ages, carbon was an activist, repeatedly getting involved all kinds of creational and evolutionary projects. Later when men started to figure stuff out, they found that carbon had played a highly constructive role in all kinds of projects. The evidence of carbon’s activism was left behind in limestone, dolomite, graphite, even diamonds!. Organic projects brought forth peat, methane, coal, natural gas, oil. . . did somebody say oil? Well, that’s the big one— the one that humans made best use for awhile, for a very long time. Initially, after discovery of oil’s many uses, they used it for fires to stay warm, later to heat up metals, such as copper and iron, silver and gold, for tools and precious trinkets. . . jewelry, religious ceremonies, all kinds of uses for carboniferous substances. A couple of centuries ago, men started using carboniferous fuels to power motors for industrial development, power generation and transportation.

What we later found out was that a lot of those carbon emissions from oil, gas and coal were wafting up into our atmosphere and wandering around with nothing to do except make trouble. They began to protest their degenerated lot in life, even though they had ended up at the highest levels. Together, they constituted a kind of atmospheric shield that tended to trap heat in the earth atmosphere instead of letting it escape into space where it belonged. Long about the year 2000, a vice president of the United States ran for president, but he lost. I won’t go into all the gorey details, but let’s just say. . . hanging chads and a scaliafied high court diverted his destiny from the white house to the high position of operating as counsel for the defense of the Planet and all the People and critters who live therein. Then a wide array of citizens’ activism opened up on behalf of the people and the planet, and those folks have been a good influence. The auto-manufactures figured out that we need catalytic converters to minimize those carbon atoms from wafting up into our atmosphere. And I think—at least I hope—that some of the power companies and co-ops have made efforts to minimize their carbon emissions. Now I haven’t really heard much about this lately, but I was practicing my ABC’s that I had learned in kindergaten, which I do every day when I read anything. . . and I thought about carbon, because. . . I don’t know, maybe because my name and “carbon” have the same three letters. At age 75, I’m closer now than I was before to that moment when my soul ascends upward

past earth, past the atmosphere, into the eternal realm where the Creator, the Lord, came down in His human identity. . . and suffered death so that he could overcome it, thereby demonstrating that you and I could overcome it if. . . if we are willing to go with Him. All will be well when I get past this earth and the carbons are all settled back down in the earth where they belong. Just sayin’. Glass half-Full

Those Russians

I entered this American world during a period of contention between the two primary nations who were arguing about who would be in charge of the post-WW2 western world. The funny that happened on the way to my early childhood was that American leaders were having about argument about who set the course for the rehabilitation and reconstruction of Europe. The Russians, commanded by Josef Stalin, were quite confident that it was their destiny to guide the recovering Europeans to a brave new world of communism. On the other hand, we Americans knew that it was our great post-war task to help the Europeans reconstruct, along paths of democratic and republican leadership. So there was this big worldwide controversy going on between us and the Russians, which was being acted out in the German lands where they were trying to rebuild that hitler and his third reich goons had turned into a disaster zone. Our President, Harry Truman, who had approved the use of the atom bomb in Japan, was doing the truly American thing. . . restoring peace and tranquility, everywhere he could, on both sides of the Atlantic. But on the other side of the Atlantic the Russians were getting all paranoid about us, because they thought we were out to get them. But we could care less about the Russians, because we were Americans, listening to daily news, watching America work itself back to peace an prosperity. But on the other side of the Atlantic, Stalin and his communist goons were trying to convert the ashes of Europe into a communist state, just like Karl Marx had predicted, about a century and half earlier. Conveniently enough, however, dictator Stalin died in 1953. Thank God! Then the Soviet politburo selected Nikita Kruschev to run the USSR. I have a childhood memory of a film clip of him standing at a podium somewhere blathering: “We will bury you!” Looking back on it, it’s like: Dude, what is your problem?! But they never did. Of course not. The Russians had some growing up to do. They had to learn how to evaluate their communist ways that their parents had left behind. It took them a while. They had to go through stages to get through their creepy, alienating ways of doing things. Berlin, the divided city in northeast Germany turned out to be their failed experiment in communist governance. President Kennedy had visited Berlin in the early ’60’s, when he rallied the west Berliners toward some capitalistic/democratic/republican considerations. He spoke to the Berliners; but he was also speaking to the wider world, when he said: “Let them come to Berlin!” thereby challenging the citizens of the world to go to Berlin, where they would see the difference between the Russian way of administering reconstruction and our American way of promoting liberty and justice for all. About 20 years later, President Reagan went to Berlin and launched, like star wars, the controversy to another level. He said: “Mr. Gorbachev, tear down this wall.” He was referring to the Berlin wall, but in a broader sense, he was implying: Tear down your communist bullsh**! Well, long story short, eventually the Russians got the message; they saw the writing on the wall; in perestroika, they began working toward a better system. After a while, a master technocrat bully, Vlad the Mad, wrestled control of the post-Soviet state. Under the guise of free market scenario, he opened the door for wise guys who knew how to manipulate to channels of power and wealth to take over and run the country. And he would supervise the evolution of communist bureaucracy to a kind of authoritarian hegemony, where the strong survive and prosper and everybody else learns to sink or swim in the brave new world of post-communist Putinism.

To be fair, I’ll mention that we Americans had a similar transition period, after the civil war. . . there was a time when the so-called robber barons were running the show of recovery from our post-civil war USA. Under Putin, the Russians are having their era of post-Soviet reconstruction and he seems to be opening the door for his robber baron buddies to assist him in running Russia. We shall see how that works. Maybe one day, Vlad the Mad will figure out that he doesn’t need to enslave the Ukrainians, where Russia began! . . . just to keep his fat ’n happy oligarchs running the show in Russia. And as Amos said to Andy, back in the day: “And I told him that!” Somebody needs to tell Vlad to lighten up. Smile, you’re on the world camera.Lighten up! Glass half-Full

Those Germans

I suppose it is my personal history that prompts this exploration of European history.Born Catholic, now Christian (alias protestant). With 75 years behind, I explore histories of what has happened in this world before I arrived in it. So I was pondering the Berlin crisis, a major European conflict. It started when the communist Russians, having secured northern Germany when the Allies defeated the third reich, divided Berlin, and built a wall through the city to keep their subjugated Germans from moving over to the western side of the town, the democratic/capitalist side of town, where they might escape Russian control. Venturing further into this topic, what I discerned was, this occupation of Germany was a very unusual development in history. It only happened because a cultified wildman took hold of the German state. The little dictator with the funny moustache was able to establish the third reich because they had gotten such a raw deal after the Versailles peace conference after the first big war of the 20th century. That raw deal, as far with the French were concerned, was a punishment that the Germans deserved after the near-total destruction of Europe after World War one, after the archduke of Austria had been shot in 1914. But the rest of the story, going back in time, is that those Germans were always a rebelious people, as compared to their European neighbors. I mean their restlessness had begun back in the 1500’s, when they divided Europe. They took it upon themselves to interpret the sacred scriptures for themselves, after Gutenberg invented the printing press and Luther was pointing out that the catholic superstate in Rome had not been getting the full message of the gospel distributed to common folk, because the Catholic church was too entangled in religion, cathedral-building, lifting golden chalices in grand cathedrals. . . instead of truly preaching the whole gospel. There was a lot more, you see, to that message of Jesus, assured by his Word and Resurrection . . . a lot more to it than rituals and cathedrals with awesome architecture that seemed to tower up to the heavens, especially if you were inside looking up. I mean, Luther and the Germans had a good point about religion. So. . . a rich German prince, educated enough to see what was really happening, and having wealth and resources enough to do something about it, protected Luther, defended him, and as the ire of the pope was getting hotter and hotter, the German strong man made a break, a permanant break in more ways than one. Long story short: out came what they called the Holy Roman Empire. So Frederick the Great became the first “Holy Roman Emperor”. Now, looking back on it, I think that newly-forged empire must have been what was later called the first reich. And the second reich must have been the one that the German princes, royals and electors established with German kaisers leading them from age to age. . . until Kaiser Wilhelm violated his sacred oaths in 1941 and started a world war because an Austrian archduke was shot in Sarajevo. And so. . . a few decades later, the the “third reich” was the one that hitler dragged into destruction when he launched his nazis and his luftwaffe and his clueless good germans into a third reich disaster that terminated in 1945. After that, the two strongest victors, Russia and the United States, still standing after world war two, divided Berlin. After that, the paranoid Russian communists, who had not yet figured out the fallacy of communism, divided Berlin, and allowed US Americans to take the western half and occupy it on behalf of the free world.

Thank you, Comrade Stalin, for liberating northern Germany from hitler’s third reich. We didn’t like your communism and your powermongering, but we appreciate it what your Russian soldiers did to stop the nazis and thereby provoked hitler into shooting himself in the head in Berlin. The last thing I remember, doc, we slid into Berlin, and the sound of a shot in Dallas in 1963. . . and President Reagan came in twenty years later and said: “Mister Gorbachev, tear down this wall!” And they did. The rest is history. The next thing I remember hearing about Germany was that the Beatles were singing in Hamburg. Talk about an improving state of affairs! Glass half-Full

Time

From that moment in 1963 when the school principal stepped into our seventh grade classroom. . . informing us of the assassination of President Kennedy, the tragedy of this life has lingered in the back of my mind. . . Our generation was insulated from real danger; we didn’t have to be shipped off to Europe, like many of our fathers did, to rid the world of nazi destruction, death and holocaust. Even so, the paranoia of our leaders re communist aggression provoked an over-reaction. So. . . many of us were shipped off to Vietnam to stop the communist insurgency. Eventually, our leaders decided that the effort was a waste of time, equipment and American lives. Long ago, the Psalmist left this observation: “The nations have fallen into a pit of their making; their feet are caught in the net they have hidden.” Things haven’t really changed much, except for the invention of the nuclear bomb. . . ‘nuff said about that. Be careful, all ye world leaders! Don’t do anything stupid. But I digress. On a brighter note, we know that this American experiment, lit up in 1776. has worked out very well for US for 250 years. Even so, there are tragedies that happen as we traipse through our history. . . lives lost in the Revolutionary war. . .slaves abused and slain before being emancipated by President Lincoln. . . lives lost in a civil war, lives lost as settlers moved westward, making war on native tribes, lives lost in world war one, lives lost in world war two, Korean war, Vietnam war, skirmishes during the cold war, even some Americans caught up in opposing war, desert storm, Afghanistan. . . And then there’s the toll taken by Time itself. We all have but one life to live on this earth. People are dying every day. . . in hospitals, in nursing homes, in accidents and. . . God only knows. . . Some of us know when our time on earth is ending, maybe if we’re laid up in a hospital bed with an advanced age, a mortal disease or injury. For others, the big chill happens when we least expect it, in an accident. . . One way or the other, it will happen to all of us. An ancient wise man wrote, while praying to the Creator, the Lord and Giver of Life. . . “Since his days are determined and the number of his months is with You, (Oh Lord) You have set limits that he cannot exceed” . . .

Like this tree, we sprout up, into a world of sunlight and fresh air, surrounded by other trees and critters, until, after fifty. . . or seventy years, the weak spots become holes in the plans that we made; meanwhile, all around us, the forest prospers. Birds sing, creatures traipse around us, even into us, exploring our inner parts for shelter. All around us the forest prospers, going on and on. We see our ancestors buried in the ground. . . leaves on the forest floor, turning into soil, turning into food for new saplings, and then. . . Time waits for no man. A bright mushroom pops up to add color to the dark forest floor. We won’t live to see it, but the other inhabitants of the forest will. Life goes on, and Time. . . Glass half-Full

Gold

From the earliest days of mankind, people were fascinated with the glint of gold, whenever it would be seen, while fording a stream, or walking along a rocky path. They would pick the gold up, nuggets, or gold dust. We’ve been fascinated by it since ancient times. The ancient literature informs us that the River Pishon flowed out of Eden, and people saw gold sparkling in the water. There was an attractive glow that compelled them to gather the precious metal and make use of it to brighten up precious stuff.

As gold was acquired by people, they would treasure it, gaze at it, wonder at the beautiful golden glow. The ancient people collected gold wherever thay found it. After awhile they figured out that they could heat it and make jewelry. Gold was closely associated with the precious union of man and wife, which produced little men and little women. Wedding rings must have been forged at about that time, and have been ever since. I have had a gold ring on my finger since 1980; I have never taken it off; it represents our marriage of 46 years, and the precious three humans who were created through our union. The ring is smaller than the knuckle that keeps it on my left hand finger. You could say that gold is just about the most precious thing on this earth, except for the love that it represents. Gold was treasured in ancient cultures, and has been ever since. The king of Babylon had a big golden statue of himself that he commanded the people to bow down to. The Egyptian pharoah included it in all kinds of precious places. Later, when the Hebrews had their Ark of the Covenant; the sacred Ark had gold cast onto its top; they also used gold in the tent of meeting, to brighten the holy place up. Later, when they had a temple, there was gold in all the utensils of sacrifice, and on the priests garment, to brighten their worship of the Creator of the Universe. Later in history, and throughout time. . .when things started to fall apart, gold often became booty whenever some people took control of a sacred place or a king’s palace. But gold has its limitations. Even though it is highly valued electrical conductor, it is mostly applied to other precious purposes.

Although gold is easily forged and made into precious objects, there’s only so much you can do with it, and it is so precious that the demand for it renders gold scarce. You don’t see much of it around. . . mostly on wedding rings, but sometimes on jewelry worn by rich folks. Even so, the story is told of an ancient rich guy, a good fellow, who endured a great loss when a lot of precious stuff was taken away form him; he had a terrible ordeal to endure. At the end of his ordeal, Job was really appreciating wisdom; but he said that wisdom could not be purchased, even with gold. Later, when Messiah was born, three kings from the east brought gold as gifts. That was nice; so I guess Mary and Joseph had some valuable assets for their provision while Jesus was growing up. Later, when Jesus sent his apostles out to spread the good news of salvation, he told them not to bother with carrying gold with them. Not necessary. Later after his resurrection and ascent into heaven, it was reported that Peter had told a crippled guy that he didn’t have any gold to give him, but he would give him a healing miracle so that the guy could walk. I’d say that being able to walk is more precious than gold, wouldn’t you? Even so, we discover in the Revelation that gold does have its place in the big picture. When this present world arrangement is blown away, the new heaven and earth will have streets of gold! So now we know the true purpose of gold. . . to pave the streets of the eternal kingdom of the Creator who created gold and all the other elements and all the folks who creep around looking for gold in them thar hills. . Glass half-Full

Ballad of Brett and Blasey

Many thanks to John Phillips and Michelle Philips of the the Mama’s and the Papas. who wrote this tune and recorded it 1991.I borrowed this tune for my song about the nomination of Brett Kavanaugh to the Supreme Court, July 9, 2018. Lindsey and Mitchie were gettin’ kinda itchy just to leave the Judiciary behind. Chuck and his committee, working for a ditty, trying to get Brett’s nomination on time. On committee fence Jeff Flake sat, ‘cuz victims rantings knocked him flat, Lindsey and Mitchie still a’pushin’ forward in the Senate; you know where that’s at, and no one’s getting tweet ‘cept Blasey Ford. Lindsey said to Grassley, we need to go fastly, just to push this nomination on through. Let’s go fast! But Flake said to Grassley, we just can’t pass it until we surely know what to do.

On committee fence Jeff Flake sat, ‘cuz elevator tirades knocked him flat. Lindsey and Mitchey still a-pushin’ forward in the Senate; you know where that’s at and no one’s getting tweets ‘cept Blasey Ford. When Blasey was in high school accosted by a drunk fool . . . she said it was the nominee. Committee testifying: implied the nominee be lying, and stop his nomination immediately! ‘cuz he was drunk and crazy back in school days; he had accosted in a drunken haze. Lindsey and Mitchey, still a-pushin’ forward in the Senate; you know where that’s at, and no one’s getting tweets ‘cept Blasey Ford. Old school Senate rules, smart fools; America drools; the escalating hype is so strong. Tweet up Face up, everything is hype up, to make drama, and drama prolong. In a last minute surprise; Jeff proposed a compromise. Lindsey and Mitchey, still a-pushin’ forward in the Senate; you know where that’s at, and no one’s getting tweets ‘cept Blazey Ford. Ah, Broke, busted and Blasey can’t be trusted and Mitchie wants to go the floor. Diane can’t take it; she says she’ll have to shake it; We knew shed’d wanta shut that door. Slidin’ on procedures and rules: you know it’s low-ball, but politics is old school! Blasey’s ‘criminations and sad accusations can’t go on indefinitely, and Brett’s nomination is becoming a reality. Listen to the song: https://www.micahrowland.com/carey/Ballad-of-Brett-v-Blasey.mp3 Glass half-Full

BCAC

When I was a young man, young and foolish, founded upon a foundation of the Catholic faith, God was forming my life, personality, talents, potentialities. . . allowing me a taste of life’s pleasures, making out with girlfriend on the sofa, sipping beer with buddies on Friday night, cruising around town, catching tunes on the radio, then expanding my horizon with studies at university, experimenting with pot and hallucigens, philosophy, coitus and temporary love, with no obligation, no responsibility, no children. Then along came stage 2, moving far away, not being watched by old family and friends, wandering far, far away from the religion of my youth. . . sitting at the bar, ogling topless girls. After a season, I settled down with one gal, whose influence was educational, but destructive. She led me to an old lady, said to be wise, who turned us on to some ancient mysteries that had been revealed, or so they said, by a madame blavatsky, as written in some old book, the secret doctrine, which was an occult regurgitation of ancient stuff in Asia, long ago. My relationship with these people evaporated very soon, and I went on to live life in a new way, as if I were born again. Even though the chief occultist had gone down to earth, looking for some some souls to steal, he did not get a hold on me. Strung out between a rock and a hard place, I drove down Texas and had an encounter with the Lord of Universe. . . you know, the One who created us, about the same time that he created the earth. It was a little bit like a stairway to heaven, like the one that Jacob saw, a long time ago, and then Nathanael, Jesus’s disciple, caught a glimpse of, while he was traipsing around with the first apostles.

I was born again—into a new life—it was about 1977. Not long thereafter, I met my true life companion and married her in 1980. Since that time we have lived a prosperous life, fulfilling the destiny that the Lord had set out for us, which including raising a son and two daughters. Praise Go! As the years went by, we were educated and sanctified by the faith that Jesus Moses, the prophets, and Jesus had established. . . including the assurance that when I am resurrected from this life, after 75 years or more, I will be eternally, in a better place. One last, curious detail: There was a period of time when we were traveling in China, because our son had a job there. In one leg of our journey there, near Chung Du, I happened to be in a graveyard. I noticed a gravestone with a swastika carved into the inscription. All that to say. . . that crooked cross, the the one hitler and his gang of nazi thugs had appropriated for their disastrous third reich war, destruction, holocaust, and ultimately demise, like a shot in the head in a Berlin bunker. . . that crooked cross is no more than a meme in time compared to the one on Calvary, where our Lord and Savior demonstrated for all mankind, and for all time, that Life goes on after death, and if you go with Him you will live in eternity with Him, or. . . just be laid in the cold, cold ground somewhere. Just sayin’. You can believe or not; it’s up to you. Glass half-Full

Mast Esso

In 1903, founded the Ford Motor Company. Some brave driver drove acoss the USA from coast to coast, a trip that took 65 days. In 1908, Ford Motor Company introduced the Model T. Becoming aware of the motor car popularity, investors formed General Motors Corp. By 1913, with the demand for motor cars sparking Henry Ford’s productive instincts, he pioneered new assembly line techniques in the Ford factory. Americans got in the habit of driving cars and trucks all over the country. Gas stations were established on strategic roads, street corners and highways. In 1942, Standard Oil of New Jersey constructed an oil refinery in Baton Rouge, Louisiana, on the east bank of the Mississippi River.

After a period of my early youth in Jackson, Mississippi, my parents moved us back to their hometown, Baton Rouge in 1963. As it happened, we occupied an old house that my mother had lived in back in her youth, located two blocks from the Standard Oil refinery. My teen years were spent living in that old house, just a stone’s throw from the Esso refinery. It seemed that the people of north Baton Rouge grew up in the shadow of that gargantuan oil refinery. My dad once told me that, back in the day, there wasn’t a valve wheel turned in the Esso plant unless “Red” Rowland, my grandfather, gave the order to turn it. Louisiana Governor Huey Long turned the wheels of politics to get Louisiana State University built in Baton Rouge, on the east side of the river , a few miles downriver from the Esso refinery. Now, in 2026, fifty-three years after my graduation from LSU, My daughter and I wander, on a Saturday afternoon, through grassy fields and overhanging trees, on the bank of the Watauga River, in the small Appalachian community of Valle Crucis, North Carolina, about a 20 minute drive from where Pat and I live in Boone. Our walk ends at the Mast Country Store, an historic landmark that has been preserved, and is still operated by the present owners, John and Faye Cooper, who purchased it in1979. They have maintained that ole-style country store. They operate it authentically, as it was back in the days of the ole country stores. An ancient US Post Office is inside on the left when you walk in. Just pass that, you can grab a Coca-Cola, ice-cold, from the old cooler. The old wooden f/oors are creaky. But hey, look at this, ma! Can I have one of those? Maybe a BabyRuth bar, or some bubble gum. Maybe you’ll get luck and get a Babe Ruth card! You can get anything you want there, just amble past the local honey, with the comb still in the jars. . . local history books, precious mementos from long ago. You can see pictures of old products on the walls. . . Chesterfield cigarette packets, Lucky Strike. It’s like stepping into the past, like Dorothy waking up in Oz and being told: “You’re not in Kansas anymore!”. . . well maybe a small community store out there on the prairie??

Kim, a tarheel photojournalist trained at the University of North Carolina, snapped this an image on her iphone for me. It represents days of a time long, long ago. . .

. . . when local grocers sold their goods independently of chain stores, operating as a true country store; they offered for purchase just about anything that a rural family might need. . .grits and groceries, dry goods, canned fruits and vegetables, local produce, work-clothes, jeans, and lots of thing that you wouln’t even think of until caught sight of them. . . motor oil. After your visit, maybe Mr. Mast will pump your tank full of Esso gasoline, maybe check you oil stick. You can see here that the gasoline was provided by Esso, the Standard Oil Company, maybe all the way from that Esso plant where my grandfather spun the valves. Seeing that old Esso logo brought to my memory the Esso plant in Baton Rouge. Who knows, maybe the gas that was pumped there, back in the day, had been pumped into a tanker through a valve that my grandfather opened. Who knows how many miles American drivers have driven since Henry Ford sent his Model T’s out of the factory? And who knows how many carbon emissions have ascended into our atmosphere while we drive from coast to coast and everywhere in between? Where’s Al Gore when you need him? Glass half-Full

The Royal Flush

There was a long period of European history in which the dominant Roman church was allied with rich landholders, dukes, earls, barons, kings and queens. For a very long time, after the demise of Roman hegemony, landholders were calling the shots in any dispute about who is in charge or who is going to establish the bounds of civil and military society and culture. In the 18th and 19th centuries, this hegemony began to fall apart. A period of philosophical and political revision, the Enlightenment, illuminated the minds of many thinking people. Those rowdy Americans lit the flames of Liberty when they declared independence from King George the third of Britain. Not long afterward, the working people of France caught that same flame of Liberty and the supposed Equality of all men and women. The French radicals mounted a revolution in 1789 and ultimately beheaded their king and queen. In the middle of the 1800’s, Karl Marx presented his theory about ultimate revolution, fomented by the working people, who would overthrow the the royals and the rich landowners and the owners of the factories and replace government and capitalist enterprises with a new type of governance, the dictatorship of the proletariat, the working people. The hot wind of Liberty and revolution was still blowing across the Continent when the royal houses of Europe ignited a firestorm of war in 1914, when Archduke Ferdinand was shot dead by a Serbian nationalist in Sarejevo, Bosnia.

But the royal regimes of Europe, accustomed to being in charge, ignited a clusterf**k of military destruction that ultimately inflicted four years of death and destruction on the people of Europe.

It just so happened that, during that time, 1914-18, the Marxist doctrines of the dictatorship of the working people were being actualized, up in Russia, where the working people were getting sick and tired of being exploited by the czar and his lap dogs of rich landowners and warmakers.The Marxist doctrine of dictatorship of the proletariat was applied to the Russian workers, who were mostly peasants laboring in vast estates, serving the landlords of the vast Russian steppes, where industrialization had not yet taken hold of society and industry. Long story short, the Russian radicals executed the czar and his family, then went on to terrorize the countryside, herding the Russian people into a new regimen of dictatorship by the working people, as Marx had theorized. After taking control of the land and all the institutions, the communist revolutionaries grabbed power away from their more moderate contemporaries. Lenin, Trotsky, Stalin, having no loyalty to the dead czar, released themselves and the Russian people from fighting the war that the royals of Europe had imposed on the entire continent. The new communist regime of Russia made peace with the Germans and Austrians, and began to establish their own dictatorship of the proletariat, a revolution that ultimately brought forth the communist regime that dominated Russia until the 1990’s. The Enlightenment winds of Liberty had been stirred up, but with a Marxist twist, to blow over the steppes of the far north of Europe and Asia, imposing a Stalinist cruelty that terrorized, then tamed, the Russian people until the 1980’s. Andropov, Gorbachev and Yeltsin were, at last, leaders who illumined by the flames of reform that had lit revolutions since the early 1800’s. What they were able to accomplish was no beacon of Liberty and Justice for all, but it was, functionally, a nation that the czars and the rich landowners would never have approved, ruled by bureaucrats. Later, at the end of the 20th century, a fresh group of Russian-styled neo-capitalists were able to commandeer the evolving institutions of new management, governance, and now wealth accumulation. Opportunistic rich Russian oligarchs were able to gain control of the bureacracy and the emerging web of newly-capitalized resources and assets of the new Russian nation, an unprecedented hybrid of communist/socialist/capitalist nationhood. So, to conclude. . .By the time that the 1920’s-30’s rolled around, the rich royals who had formerly ruled Europe were obsolete. Tragically, the 1940’s were doomed to more war when a maniac Austrian with a toothbrush moustache took hold of the highly skilled, habitually militarized German state and inflicted a World War I rerun on Europe, but with a pagan, war-obsessed nazi cruelty built into that “third reich” machinery. By the time World War II was over, most of the royal rulers of Europe had either been killed, or set aside into cultural and political irrelevance. Since that time, Europe has been a relatively peaceful place, with disputes between working people and rich people being managed by parliamentary governance. As for Russia, we shall see what the new dictator Vlad the Mad imposes on his people and the people of Ukraine and beyond. The western world process of replacing royals with governance by We the People took about a century and a half to complete. We do not want to—we must not— regress into those obsolete systems of governance by kings and queens.

Glass half-Full