Something Happening

The voice of Stephen Stills still echoes in my memory as I remember, back in the day—1968, I think it was. . . his words sung in a song on the radio, “There’s somethin’ happening here; what it is ain’t exactly clear.”

That assessment—or maybe it was just a feeling, a hunch—was a thought that seemed to hang like a storm cloud over my generation. From the Cuban missile crisis, to the Bay of Pigs fiasco, to the November 22, 1963 shock wave of President Kennedy’s assassination in Dallas. . . and on and on. . . why the hell did Jack Ruby shoot Lee Harvey Oswald? There’s somethin’. . . it ain’t exactly clear . . . clouded in a mist of Agent Orange. . . then the Pentagon papers. . . Ellsberg said “I hope I’m never in a job where I have to lie like that’’, referring to the public comments of a defence secretary. Then there’s Kissinger playing the craps game with the press and the jungle people of Vietnam.

Then there’s Nixon drawing fire from the press over his suppression of a nocturnal burglary in Ellsberg’s psychiatrist in the Watergate hotel, Then so much public questioning, criticism about tricky dick’s “dirty tricks” that decides to just leave the oval office before the American people and their lawyers impeach him. So Nixon waves goodbye. A hand-picked VP turned President for a few days, or weeks before Jimmy Carter left his peanut farm in Georgia, defeated Ford in ’76. He had to deal with Benachem Begin and Anwar Sadat trying to make peace in the Middle East (sounds oddly familiar) But then all hell broke loose when the Iranians ejected their Shah. Iranians raided the American embassy in Tehran. The 1980 election was bearing down on Carter. . . a gubernatorial cowboy from California rode into Washington to put an end to the shootout at the Iran corral. It really was like an old western. . . when Ronald Reagan rode into Washington, just like in the old cowboy movies like my dad used to watch, back in the ’50’s. Looking back on it all, now at age 75, I’m still thinking, as Stephen had sung back in the day. . . “There’s something happenin’ here; what it is ain’t exactly clear”. . . Something happening in 2026. . . something wrong that needs a fix. . . it’s just a. . . weird magamania that won’t settle back into the American way of Law and Order.

King of Soul

We the People will

When in the course of American events, it becomes necessary for the People to dizzolve the political bands which have connected them with a tyrant magamaniac, and to appropriate among the powers of our Constitution and our Rule of Law, a separation of the insurrection instigator from the executive office that he had formerly obtained . . . a decent respect for our Rule of Law requires that we should declare the reasons that impel US to the Impeachment.

We hold these recent events to be self-evident, that our Congress was attacked and that our Constitution endows us to protect our senators and representatives, and to defend, legislate and preserve our heritage of Life, Liberty and the pursuit of lawfulness, and that to secure these rights We have a long history of lawful resolution of disputes between liberals and conservatives, between Democrats and Republicans, between our Constitution and rebel Confederates who had attempted to separate themselves from US so that they could enslave other citizens of these United States. And furthermore, in the course of our history. . .Conservatives, Congress, and our Constitution have played major roles in the preservation of our Union. Even in our tribulation time of 1930’s Depression. . . we managed, by Congressional, Judicial and Executive declarations to preserve the peace and prosperity of America. Prudence, indeed, will dictate that our government, long established, should not be destructed for the sake of one chief insurrectionist who happened to be traipsing in the Rose Garden on January 6, 2021 and who still yet strives to establish his name, unworthily, in our most hallowed American institutions and landmarks.

We therefore resolve to protect and defend our ole New Deal, our Great Society, even our Morning in America, which happens every day that the sun shines on US. We can improve and provide for our Life, Liberty and Pursuit of Prosperity while still utilizing our historic ole New Deal and its subsequent Deep State, like it or not, read ‘em and weep all ye magamaniacs. . . our Great Society, even our deepstate bureaucracy required for all our agencies to function, alive an ticking. Yes, indeed. . .

We the People will somehow, some way, raise up the party of Lincoln. We shall overcome the magamania that so recently occupied the GOP by hook or by crook, we know not which. We shall let the Supreme Court pick and choose from their shadow docket, even as they toss their immunity life raft to a sinking president, even as the people come and go, speaking of Michelangelo, or of whomever the chief insurrectionist chooses to decorate his ballroom, or his reflecting pool, or his magamaniacs who try to Make America Go Awry. We can slog through the slush funds, drain the swamp or whatever it takes for a free people to break the bands of injustice and insurrection. We can overcome again, and again and again. . .until its time for We the People to elect new leaders. We Shall Overcome the gerrymandering pandering, somehow, some way, when its least expected, because We have a dream that someday, all God’s children will prevail when Justice rolls down like the waters, and righteousness like a mighty stream. . . and all God’s children will live together, whether in the red clay hills of Georgia, the rocky shores of Maine, the old north church in Boston, or any church. . .the coffee clatches of Washington or the star-studded studios of Hollywood. . . We shall overcome someday. Deep in my heart, I know. . . Americans will overcome magamania. Glass half-full</b>

War and Pieces

“War: what is it good for, absolutely nothing!” Those words, recalled from a Motown hit song back in 1960’s, or ’70’s, when we were dodging the draft, endeavoring to stay out of the Vietnam war, a war that we lost anyway. But the question echoes through the decades. Looking back on it all. . . war was good for evicting King George’s soldiers out of our brand new nation. Moving right along, it was good for enforcing President Lincoln’s Emancipation Proclamation. In the 20th century, it was good for stopping the German juggernaut twice, especially the second time, when the little kraut madmen with the funny moustache had thought he could take charge of Europe and exterminate the Jews along the way. War was, maybe, not as bad, after Hiroshima and Nagasaki, when we Americans demonstrated the power of the new atomic bomb at Hiroshima and Nagasaki. I mean, certainly it was not good for the Japanese people, and I pray that they have forgiven us for demonstrating to the world that those nukes should never be used on anyone. But like it or not, they took the hit for all of us. May it never have to be done again! In recent years, the little Russian, Vlad the Mad, started making war on Ukraine. The situation was similar to 1938 when Hitler wanted to take the Sudetanland in Czechoslavakia, just because there were a lot of Germans living in that region. So there has been some confusion about Vlad the Mad in Russia, because supposedly, he wanted to guide Russia into a more reasonable, democratic nationhood. But the power went to his little bald head and he decided to try and take Ukraine back into Russian hegemony. I guess he thought he was acting like Peter the Great, or Stalin with gulags. Meanwhile, back at the Maralago ranch, trump was faced with the predicament of dealing with Putin, because everybody knew that the USA was now the big kid on the world block. But Vlad the Mad kind of saw himself as the big kid on the block, and he thought that trump might let him get away with it, because they both saw themselves as the big kid on the block. . . As it turned out. . . trump did give Vlad a pass, or a wave or something like that . . . when he posed a meeting with Zelensky, the Ukrainian leader. I guess trump just told Zelinsky that he could not be one the big kids on the block. Vlad and donald just wanted to demonstrate their bully hegemony. What the people of this world didn’t realize was that the hood ole boys club, Vlad, donald, Xi and a few other tagalongs were more dedicated to performing their roles as big kids on the block, you know, the round block that circles around the sun. Then the occupant of the Oval office got stir crazy when an opportunity came up to take it upon himself to destroy the ancient country of Iran. I guess he thought it would be a walk in the park as he was putting on his defensive bully hat to help Ben in Tel Aviv. but it has not turned out that way. So the war in Iran drags on, I guess. . . I mean we don’t hear much about it, but then again its so far away. . . like the war that Orwell wrote about in 1984. I suppose its always been this way, since our times turned modern, and we’ve gotten used to there always being a war somewhere in the world.

Lastly, I’ll mention the novel I wrote about the war that started in Europe in 1937. The passage of time is cloaked in smoke. And remember, its just a matter of time before the winds of war start to blow again, and again, and again, until? Carey Rowland

Cape Cod

I must have been in fourth or fifth grade when I began to comprehend the historical importance of the state of Massachusetts, way up north somewhere, where the Boston Red Sox played baseball. I was growing up in the deep south when John F. Kennedy was elected President. T’was then that I began hearing about Cape Cod, where the Kennedy family had their vacation home in Hyannisport. Yesterday, only days away from my 75th birthday, we went to Cape Cod., first time ever for me. Along the way, still on the mainland, I saw signs for Plymouth, that settlement on the mainland shore that faces outward toward Cape Cod. . . Plymouth colony, where the Pilgrims first set up their rendition of the Lord’s community, apart from the high church establishment in Europe. . . a return to the ancient Christian vision of establishing the Lord’s kingdom on earth. Crossing on a bridge, we arrived on Cape Cod. After a few minutes, I was seeing signs for Hyannis. I recalled hearing about Hyannis port, where the Kennedys had their yacht docked, back in the day, During those early days of the Kennedy administration, President Kennedy’s wife, Jackie generated a unique fascination in the media. Their family, residing in the White House, inspired popular comparisons to Camelot, the legendary kingdom where King Arthur had ruled with his queen, Guinevere, back in the earliest years of Great Britain. Later, while sitting on a Cape Cod beach, my mind was generating other memories. In 1971, while working in a Colorado ski lodge tavern, I had heard John Duffy, a New England native, sing his song, “Nantucket Ferry.” I was thinking that the legendary Nantucket was out there somewhere.

Back in 1847, Herman Melville had signed on as a harpooner with a whaling ship sailing out of Nantucket. Following that whaling voyage around the world, Melville wrote his great (some say the greatest) American novel, Moby Dick. Being a novelist myself, I was reflecting on this Cape Cod moment as I waded through the water at Breakwater beach. Those whaling daydreams cast my memory net back to a song earlier heard, back in the day, 1960’s, on the old 33 rpm record player. Judy Collins sang “Farewell to Tarwathie”,a song about the coast of Greenland, a song sung by some long-gone sailor whose hope was to find riches in “hunting the whale.” Perhaps that sailor would have returned to Cape Cod when the expedition was complete and the voyage was done. I was humming “Farewell to Tarwathie’ as we bid farewell to the legendary Cape Cod, to return to Boston. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qV29xK2xyZ4 Glass half-Full

Melchisidek

Several years ago I asked my friend Ben, a pastor, a question about a mysterious name in the ancient scriptures: “Who was Melchizedek?” “That’s a good question” said my friend Ben. Little did I know at that time that our curiosity about a mysterious priest would lead to a three-year odyssey of the mind, guided by the Spirit of the Lord. The journey started when Ben answered my question. He proposed that we turn to the scriptures in order to explore the question. So we did. Ben and Connie, Chip and Melody, Gene and Sharon, and widow BB joined with me and Pat to study the ancient scriptures to find the answer.

The mystery had started with some ancient words, found in the first book of our ancient scriptures, Genesis. The patriarch, Abraham, had just concluded a martial mission to rescue his nephew Lot from captivity in a prison camp near Damascus. So it was then that a funny thing happened on the way to world history. Hebrew scriptures have the event recorded this way: (Genesis 14: 18,19) “And Melchizedek king of Salem brought out bread and wine; now he was the priest of God Most High. He blessed Abraham and said, ’Blessed be Abram of God Most High, Possessor of heaven and earth.’ ” That was the beginning of a very long story, HIStory, which is recorded in that ancient book we call the Bible.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, so to speak, there we were, all in one place, a gathering of Christians alive in a special place, one small homestead, Ben and Connie’s living room. Our purpose was to rustle up some answers, by riding the written range of the New Testament, narrowing in on the book of Hebrews, drilling our attentions into the depths of ancient history and revelation. . . and this, among other notable ancient truths, is what we found: “This hope we have as an anchor of the soul, a hope both sure and steadfast, and one which enters beyond the veil, where Christ entered as a forerunner for us, having become a high priest forever after the order of Melchizedek” (Hebrews 6:19,20)

Now. . . all that to say, I had asked pastor Ben a question. We gathered with our friends to answer the question of Melchizedek. The answer was: God with US. YWHW The Creator of the universe, who later manifested Himself bodily in the person of Jesus, the WORD embodied, born to Mary in Bethlehem and crucified at Calvary; that Jesus had presented himself to Abraham in the ancient days. Why? That’s a stupid question. We’ll never figure it out. Just believe it, that the WORD was made flesh, and dwelt among us in Galilee, in Samaria, in Jerusalem, and in eternity after his Resurrection. The Creator of the universe, who, by the power of His Word had spoken the universe into existence, had earlier manifested Himself temporarily, as Melchizedek, in order to initiate the Revelation of Himself to the human race. He gave that First chapter of Himself to Abraham in the same sacramental way that He later distributed Himself with bread and wine at the last supper. The first seeds of the Christian faith had been sewn to Abraham. That seed was later planted into the fertile hearts and minds of ancient peoples, who spread it all the way to Babylon and Egypt and back. Then later, New testament peoples, then . . . on and on to the here and now, all the way to America and to the Boone community where we gathered at Ben and Connie’s to discover what that mysterious Melchizedek is all about. About five months ago, our friend Ben left this life. By faith, he has entered the eternal home of all God’s people, those who have believed since Abraham met Melchizedek. We will also meet those who, since that time, have believed, carried and evangelized that Christian faith, which was erected on the ancient Old Testament foundation that was documented by Matthew, Mark, Luke, John, Peter, Paul and millions of other believers. When I arrive in heaven, I will greet my friend Ben again, in the presence of that high priest who blessed Abraham, that high priest who later offered himself on a Roman cross, that high priest who was found worthy to break the seals and open scroll, (see Revelation 5:9) whose word was brought down through the centuries so that we could have the faith of Abraham, made complete by. the sacrifice of Jesus. What a glorious reunion that will be, even greater than our precious times in Ben and Connie’s living room, back in the day. When I get there, I’m thinking that Ben will be there to greet me, just as he did so many times at his own front door. Revelation 5:9

Boomers' Choice

The boys came marching home from Germany and France, and The Bomb had made a blast in Hiroshima. We were driving brand new cars; we were waving stars and bars, and everywhere was another factory. Back in 1953, cruising with Dwight E. Elvis sangthe white boy blues; McCarthy looking under every bush, in the home of the brave and the free, rolling on prosperity, and all the kids were going off to school. Ten years down the road, another dream had come and gone, and the power of one gun had made itself known. Back in 1964, big Lyndon opened the door for civil rights and a bloody Asian war. Young men on pork chop hill; young women on the pill. At home wesaid don’t kill; get a psychedelic thrill. But the dreams of Woodstock nation were just an imagination when the boys came trudgin’ home in ’73.

And it’s hey, hey ho, is there anybody home? and its high, high hay, seeking light in the night of day. But the dreams And it’s hey, hey ho, is there anybody home? and its high, high hay, seeking light in the night of day. Well it just don’t pay to sob; guess I’ll get myself a job selling leisure suits, or maybe real estate. I’m not moving very fast; I’m just waitin’ in line for gas, and Johnny Carson gives me all my news. Back in 1976, overcoming dirty tricks. Some were moving back to the sticks; some were looking for a fix. Ayatollah’s on the rise; sulfur dioxide in the skies, and the system makes the man that’s got his own. They say an elephant won’t forget; let’s play another set; there’s always another ghost on pacman’s tail. Don’t let this boom go stale; let’s find an airline sale, or pop another tape in the VCR. Back in 1989, we’re living on borrowed time, gettin’ lost in subtle sin eatiin’ oat bran at the gym. There’s. an empty place inside, and I was wondering why; these vanities don’t suit; I’m going back to the gospel truth. And its hey hey ho is there anybody home? and its high high hey, seekin’ light in the night of day. There’s an empty place inside, and I was wondering why; these vanities don’t suit; I’m going back to the gospel truth. Put on your Serajevo, Mogadishu, Kalishnikov and Columbine shoes. The way is treacherous with ruts and rocks. Yeah, we figured our digits out before that Y2K could spoil our route, but that 9/11 call was in the cards. Did you consider the question of heaven before the wreck of ’07?. Will you hear the trumpet call from the Ancient of Days? Our way is littered with fits and fads, from Baghdad to our mouse pads the reaper swings his steely scythes across our wicked ways. (To be continued.) http://www.micahrowland.com/carey/Boomer’s Choice.mp3 Glass half-full

Revolution Evolution

In ancient times, kings, queens and emperors ruled tribes and nations. But along came an Enlightenment, that opened up people’s minds to more modern ways of governance and security. The modern mode of politics took a turn toward democracy in 1215 when King John of Britain endorsed a reconciliation with British subjects (citizens), the Magna Carta. Englishmen expanded that arrangement in 1642 when they put the peoples’ pressure on King Charles I to allow a Parliament. , , thanks to Oliver Cromwell and his roundheads. Later. . . the word “revolution” was upgraded during g the “Glorious Revolution” of 1688, when British political confusion was simplified with the accession of King William and Queen Mary. Then in the next century, the 1700’s, democracy expanded in leaps and bounds when We the feisty American people inflated of a new wind of Liberty around the world, with a shot heard round the world. Our bold, feisty Revolution—long story short— blew a liberating wind over the ocean and ultimately around the world. After that, folks around the world became more comfortable with their own pursuits of life. liberty and happiness. But after that, all hell broke loose. One revolution after another. The French caught a whiff of the new Liberte’ and Egalite’ and took it to a new level. We yanks had only rejected a king, and told his troops to go jump in the lake (the big Atlantic lake. The French used a guillotine to solve their problem of control freaks on thrones. In France, things were going down fast. But moving right along, or left. . .The so-called Enlightenment of the 1800’s hatched science to replace some religion, and revolutions to replace revelation. Declarations and Constitutions became the order of the age. . .literacy propelling scripture, philosophy replacing theology. 17th-century thinkers like Rene Descartes, Thomas Hobbes, Spinoza, John Locke and David Hume had sparked a revolution in thinking that sparked new flames of democracy among the people and the proles. . . to replace monarchy. The 19th century hatched revolutions all around the world. . .in France, in multiple colonies of the Americas. . . Then a funny thing happened on the way to the modern world: the Dialectic. A German thinker, George W.F. Hegel, came up with a new way of analyzing history, a thing called the Dialectic, which, long story short, sort of applied the principles of physics to human history. . something like the “equal and opposite” reaction observation that Isaac Newton had theorized when he saw an apple fall from a tree. So the outcome of all that cerebral dialectic materialism was (long story short) the modern world, and the evolution among multiple revolutions that accompanied all that reactionary politics of the modernizing world. In the big picture since those days, we the people of this world have had reports about revolutions in multiple European countries in 1848, south American countries, central American countries, the Caribbean. . .and moving right along. . . the Russian revolution, which was the biggest of all. Then a couple of revolutions in China, in. India, many Aftrican nations. . . Algeria. and crossing the Atlantic. . . Cuba, Nicaragua. . . all iterations of revolutionary rhetoric and militarism. My boomer generation won’t forget hearing about the Cuban revolution. . . that little turn of events. . . nuke missiles on the island 90 miles from US! . . . our deep state freaking out with their dread of the commies trying to take over. We baby boomers had our reactionary response, an improvised a cultural revolution, as Ringo had put it. . .with a little help from our friends. . . that included a lysergic turn on tune in and drop out. Eventually it just drifted away as we grew up. We outgrew it. In the late 1960’s Beatle John Lennon even wrote a song about Revolution. He sang:“You say you want a revolution. . . well you know we all wanna change the world.” Well. . . yes, sure. . .Full disclosure of this blogatary process: I was prompted to write about revolution, by an article I had noticed somewhere online about Ho Chi Minh, the leader of the North Vietnamese Viet Cong who wanted to run our US soldiers out of Vietnam, back in the day, 1960’s. He had cultivated his revolutionary ideas when, in his youth, he went to European universities to learn what this world is all about; also noteworthy is that he visited Soviet Russia. It was western ways of thinking and doing things that got him all hyped up to start the revolution in Vietnam. Then our American deep state tried to drum up a military strategy to put a stop to his Viet Cong. But hey, in the big picture. . . maybe the Vietnamese were just like US, trying to run their own show, instead of taking orders from a bunch of wise guys from the other side of the world. At the end of the day, y’all. . . its all good. At least we hope so. As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord, the one who died on the cross in order to show us that there’s a lot more to life than trying to beat up on other folks. Blessed are the Peacemakers.

Glass half-full

Ancient Visions

A long time ago in a land far away, a conqueror deported prisoners from a land that he had conquered. While performing his role as king of Babylon Nebuchadnezzer noticed that some of prisoners carried with themselves, into captivity, a literacy that seemed to surpass the literacy of the people who served him in Babylon. A very smart, educated young man, Daniel, interpreted some dreams that the emperor Neb had not been able to understand. So Daniel, having spiritual resources that extended beyond Neb’s understanding, spoke a synopsis of the dream. . . which he knew because he had an ancient heritage based on the Creator YWHW’s revelations that been given to his ancestors, back in the day. Then Daniel, after describing the dream, interpreted it for Nebuchadnezzar. The dream went something like this: Four beasts were coming up out of the sea. It was kind of weird: Four beasts were coming up out of the sea. But they were not regular critters like you might see roaming around ancient Mesopatamia. There was a lion like an eagle; but it morphed into what looked like a man, with a human brain. Then there was a bear with a weird mouth that looked like rib bones, between its teeth. . . if you can imagine that. It started eating some other animals. Then there’s this leopard, and get this. . . with wings! and four heads! The leopard started dominating all the other critters that were around. Then the weirdest beast of all showed up. . . the toughest kid on the block, so far. It had ten horns. One of the horns sprouted. . and get this: eyes! I’m like. . eyes on a horn?! and if that’s not enough. . . a mouth. He’s like, running his mouth, uttering great boasts! Eyes on a horn! Say what?! But hey. You just never know what’s gonna happen in this life. Suddenly the scene changes. The Ancient of Days takes his seat, and millions of people are standing around

him, and He starts breaking the seals on the ancient scrolls. I’m not making this up y’all. http://www.micahrowland.com/carey/Revelation 5_9.mp3 to be continued. . .

Paris 1937

. . .from chapter 15 of Smoke. The year is 1937. Philip and Lili are in Paris, standing on a bridge over the Seine River, near an international exposition, where Lili is commenting on the nearby German pavillion. “This city is on the edge of Germany,” she said. “But the border is hundreds of miles away.” “Paris is closer than you think, to Berlin.” Philip considered this. Then he pointed beyond the Russian pavillion, to the west, and said, “Over there, between us and where the sun will set, is Versailles, where the treaty was agreed to and signed after the war. The treaty should ensure peace and security, n’est que ce pas?” “That doesn’t mean a thing to Adolf Hitler.” Her eyes, stern with the memory of where they had just come from, were cast down upon the Seine. “Germans know. That treaty means nothing to the Nazis.” “Do they? Do Germans know?” “Some of them do, though they will not say it. There is a lot they will not say. We have neighbors in Munich who will not say that they have done business with my father for many years. Instead, they pretend to not know us. These last few months when we were at home, near the shop, when I would walk on the streets, I felt at times that I must have some horrible sign on my head, something like a mark of shame, a big. . . yellow patch of . . . verboten, or something . . . Even people my own age would act as if they had never known me. What makes people do such things? What compels them to change their attitude toward others whom they have known all their lives, people they grew up with?” “They must be scared as hell of the Nazis.” https://www.amazon.com/Smoke-L-Carey-Rowland/dp/1495330834 Glass half-Full

My Milton Meditations

We’ve heard some big questions raised lately about the ancient book of Enoch. Now I don’t know but I been told that Enoch had written about the revolt of the angels, when they were cast out of heaven, long before this world was even around. So I was remembering back to my college days at LSU, studying English literature. We read John Milton’s poem, published in the 1600’s, when the Brits were beginning to catch a whiff of democracy. Oliver Cromwell and a host of other rowdy Englishmen made their first attempt to convene a legislative Commons. King Charles I wasn’t into it, so he sent his soldiers out to stop the democratic outburst. So the English had a civil war in 1642, which might have motivated poet John Milton to compose his classic epic poem, Paradise Lost, about Satan’s rebellion against God, a disturbance that got him thrown out of heaven and banished forever. But I digress. So, getting back to my theme for the day, Milton. . . there was another Milton that came to mind: Milton Friedman, the economist who I remember as an originator of “trickle down” economics, back in the day, when President Reagan was trying to convert the Washington bureaucracy, the “deep state” to a more Republican way of doing things. Milton Friedman was a Nobel laureate whose home base was the University of Chicago. His conservative world view and economic theories had originated in his mind, as a reaction, when he was working in Washington in the Depression 1930’s, during the FDR New Deal days. Milton’s subsequent middle-of-the-country conservatism was a reactionary fiscal and academic retaliation against the liberal and their statist economic strategies of allocating money to the lower ends of society in the working class. The Democratic worldview favored a “percolate” strategy in which funds and assets would be governmentally provided to the working folks, the lower classes of America. In contrast, Milton Friedman’s strategy was known as “monetarism”; it favored a a steady, minimal, explanation of the money supply, what some folks call “trickle down”. This 1970’s theoretical strategy was a reactionary response to the 1930’s New Deal policies, related to Keynesian economics, as had been theorized in Britain in the 1930’s. Milton Friedman called price/wage-fixing “economic overkill”. We were recently in Chicago area, Northwestern University in Evanston, where I noticed this flyer pinned to a bulletin board, with a message of resistance against the conservative establishment at University of Chicago.

So much for battles, whether in heaven, hell, England, America, or wherever. . . Lastly, in my Milton meditation, and on a lighter note. . . is Milton Berle, also known as “Uncle Miltie”. He was television’s first superstar. . . a comedian whose career had started back in. Vaudeville and early Hollywood. He had started as a stand-up comedian. This Milton’s life and career goes way back, to working with Charlie Chaplin in early Hollywood movies. Then. . . a pioneer in radio entertainment, he had a comedy broadcast sponsored by Campbell’s Soup, Philip Morris and Texaco. brands that were important to the greatest generation, my parents’ generation. When TV was experimental, Milton was right there, a pioneer who stood up for black performers on his shown, back in the day, when many Americans had not yet comprehended the “all men created equal” words of our Declaration of Independence. Elvis Presley’s earliest TV gigs were on Uncle Miltie’s show. Lastly, there’s the town of Milton, Florida, on the panhandle where our family spent our earliest vacations, back in the day, 1950’s.

So there you have it, for what it’s worth. . . my Milton reflections from this 1951 baby boomer writer with a memory that refuses to surrender to the battle of amyloid plaque against brain cells. Go figure! Glass half-Full

Two World Wars

Sarajevo rebel shoots Archduke. . . provoking world war puke: Austrian/ Kraut bullyhood suddenly in disarray. Kraut bellicosity says hey hey hey: let’s start the war today. So German panic goes manic. . .

But human folly is overflowing, Kraut aggression is growing, always has been, since bismark lit the spark of bellicosity, igniting European-wide atrocity. So krauts, hot to trot into the fray, turn around and attack the opposite way. Anxious to start the deathly dance; they make war on France! Russia rushes to the fray; can’t let France be blown away! Brits and Belgians descend into mudding battlegrounds; Ottomans join as Germans amp up artillery rounds. Round and round the war goes and where it stops nobody knows. . . Krauts launch chemicals and chlorine gas, rendering this world war their most lethal task. From the Marne to the Gallipoli, the bloody business spreads so tragically. From Verdun to Istanbul the tragic damage done, soldiers, doughboys shot down. . . the deathly spiral swirls round and round. Up in Russia, Czar Nicholas’ empire goes down; Bolsheviks take control from town to town. German tornadoes sink the Lusitania, American passengers perish in krout mania. Yankee doughboys take up the burden. . . of European war in Somme and Verdun. Finally, with Germany surrounded, millions of artilleries having then been pounded, the nations signed an Armistice, fulfilling many a peaceful European wish, with a little help from their yankee friends. But pshaw! twenty years later they fought the war again!. . . when an Austrian corporal, with his weird mein kampf, launched third reich holocaust, to snuff again the European lamp.

https://www.amazon.com/Smoke-L-Carey-Rowland/dp/1495330834 Glass half-Full

Times half time

In the darkest era of the 20th century, a little kraut colonel summoned up the demon of ancient iniquity, the destroyer, the mystery of iniquity. He mounted up the forces of hell itself to destroy the people who, for thousands of years, had written the pages of history. The furious feurhrer wore down the defenders of mankind for a time, times and half a time. As the ancient prophet had foretold: (1933-45) He will speak out against the Most High and wear down the people of the Highest One and he will intend to make alterations in times and in law, and they will be given into his hand, for a time, times and half a time. (Daniel 7:25) Then the furious feurhrer, by his iniquity, ran his precious third reich into the fires of hell itself, even to a point of destructive desperation wherein he raised his gun to his own head and blasted himself dead in a Berlin bunker. During the war, the American defenders of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness allied themselves with the Europeans to destroy the third reich and to clean up the mess that the third reich had inflicted on mankind. Not long thereafter, the persecuted people, the ancient descendants of Moses, were released from their captivity and holocaust, liberated by the Americans and the British from their tribulations at Dachau and Treblinka and Auschwitz. As the ancient prophet had foretold. (1945-1948) But the two wings of the great eagle were given to the woman, so that she could fly into the wilderness to her place, where she was nourished for time, times and half a time, from the presence of the serpent. (Revelation 12:14) In 1967, the Israelis were able to gain access to the Temple Mount in Jerusalem. They had ancient plans in mind,

which they have not yet been able to manifest, to, Lord willing, build another temple. This could take some time, and some serious negotiations. So you are to know and discern that from the issuing of a decree to restore and rebuild Jerusalem until Messiah the Prince there will be seven weeks and sixty-two weeks; it will be built again , with plaza and moat, even in times of distress. (Daniel 9:25)

It is the opinion of this author that there is room enough on the Holy hill in Jerusalem for a temple to be built right next to the Al Aqsa mosque, if all parties would just settle down and heed the the advice of Jesus Christ who said: (Matthew 5:9) “Blessed are the peacemakers; for they shall inherit the earth.” Glass half-Full

The Big Middle

On Friday, we attended a middle school graduation; young people were completing 8th grade, having been prepared for the next big step in education . . . the next step in adolescent development. . . moving on toward high school. In my youth, I had been at that stage in 1965. My class ascended past junior high school and into the big leagues, high school! So, at this special even, this morning, student and faculty speakers were talking about “middle” school, and students being prepared to enter “upper school.” It was a little strange to me, because where I grew up, we referred to these phases of life education as “junior high” school and high school. And then. . .for whatever reason. . . I know not what. . . I found myself contemplating this concept of “middle”. . . whatever that is . . . a word that can be used as an adjective or a noun. I was contemplating “middle age”, which is a period of life that I used to qualify for, but at age 74. . . maybe not. Now it’s more like. . . what they call “old age.” Even though I still feel like a middle aged person! Read ‘em and weep! Just kidding! It’s all good, y’all. Life is good, and there’s so much middle to muddle on. . . There’s the middle ages:

And there’s Middle Earth, an imaginary place dreamed up by J.R.R. Tolkien, where hobbits’s live, where the shire is something like a middle ages way of living. There’s the middle of the road, where the yellow line is, or the median, or whatever that keeps you from drifting over into oncoming traffic. . . . also the “middle of the road” in a symbolic political sense, where American citizens used to conduct their politics, back in the day. . .before magamania and the proud boys and their maralago donald attacked our Capitol, thereby magnetizing US politics so that most folks are either stubborn donkeys or lumbering elephants with not much in between. Then there’s the middle of the country, which is roughly somewhere between New Orleans and Chicago and between, say, Ohio and Iowa, between Alabama and Texas. . .or maybe between one side of Kent, Ohio and the other

Let us hope and pray that those middle schoolers are never confronted with soldiers who were sent out to to quash their Constitutionally-guaranteed rights to life, liberty, the pursuit of happiness, and their first amendment right to free speech and free assembly in the middle of the land of the free and the home of the brave. King of Soul

Call Me Thishmail

Call me Thishmail. Some years ago—never mind how long precisely—having a few bucks and a baccalaureate, and nothing in particular to interest me in River City, I thought I would traverse the Gulf coast and establish meself in the fair city of St. Petersburg, to seek my game and fortune among the old folks who had made their home there. Such was my fateful acceptance of this strategic relocation, chosen for me by insurance-peddling kinfolk, affording me the great American opportunity to translate a post-academic question into a business response. But that was a long time ago, miles and miles before I slept, and dreamed a dream and thereby drove my little yellow VW up to the Appalachian wonderland,

and long before the darkness of failure descended upon me and I ultimately redirected the VW to Waco, where I found myself in the presence of the Holy Spirit. . . you know— the One mentioned in the Book of Acts— and the Spirit of the Risen Lord redirected my voyage through the various gulfs of experience.