being, nothingness

being, nothingness

fiction
Edward w Pritchard



No longer a college student, should I close my books?
No longer a son, should I cease to perform the ancestor worship rituals?
No long a husband, should I cease to be a Father?
No longer robust, strong and vital, should I cease to feel immortal?
No longer sure of anything, should I cease to ask?
No longer myself who existed in the past, should I cease to be me?
Bad faith, or nothingness; who are we when we aren't ourselves any more?
Please send me a movie with the role I should play highlighted. Please no more
snapshots of myself from before. That character is extinguished.
Nothingness, one day at a time in the here and now.
I"ll sit in a coffee house in Paris of the Past and listen to Sartre expound on everything,
while I try to remember what happened to myself.
Who ever are we when who we thought we were is gone?
No longer affiliated with Country, creed or kin,
Free to sleep with the light off, free to turn our back on the Devil,
More curious than concerned, tomorrow never comes.

Reunion with God/ repost

reunion with God

fiction
edward w pritchard

Should i die before I wake:

I yearn for reunion with GOD but cannot find him.
So I make myself bigger, and I am mankind, all 6 billion of us.
I have sense and sensibility
But I cannot taste touch or feel God and my senses doubt he is there, and I cannot find him.
Intellectually, I contemplate, abstract and conceptualize God
But I cannot find him, so I make myself bigger.

I am EARTH, and all things on it, and I am will
That will started with me as a rock in space with the incredible will to grow
I pulled other rocks and debris and eventually the pieces became part of me
and I grew large and hot and transformed
and each thing material or life had will and we grew, but as one.
and we are whole but we can not find God, so I grow bigger

I am a GALAXY, and physical laws and light and movement
and everything in me races and spins
and collides, and aggregates, and is spectacular
but I cannot find God, so I grow bigger

I am the entire UNIVERSE,
I stop, start and grow many times
but I yearn for reunion with God
But I cannot find him, so I make myself smaller

I am a QUARK
and I am impossibility, I die sometimes before I exist
and I am simultaneous
and I am right but cannot find left
So I long for God, but cannot find him so I make myself bigger

So I am MYSELF [Me]
and I sleep to search for God
but my senses interrupt and do not allow me to control my dreams
and then, I think, and am outside of time, and I think of God
but my senses interrupt, and I die
and yearn for reunion with God

And I am a ROCK in space and I long to aggregate to search for GOD.

you know it's gone too far when God sends the Jehovah's Witnesses to your door at 10AM Sunday morning

You know it's gone too far when God sends the Jehovah's Witnesses to your door at 10AM Sunday morning

fiction
edward w pritchard



You know it's gone too far when God sends the Jehovah's Witnesses to your door at 10AM Sunday morning. Like all proselytizers they are here to judge you. Insistent direct insinuations ask they like a new Lawyer on her first direct. Grip their hand firmly and pull it toward yourself to escape the barrage.

Music next to start another Sunday. Johnny Cash " Sunday Morning Coming Down" redux. Then Anne Mauray " Just a closer Walk with thee". Finish with Mahalia Jackson  " What a friend we have in Jesus".

Excuse me if I wasn't up to speed Sunday April 27, 2014. I certainly didn't want to be goaded into a fight. It's just you know it's gone too far when God sends the Jehovah's Witnesses to your door at 10AM Sunday morning. 

Suburban cowboy alone redux another sad Sunday morning going down. 

Dealing with your true loves hate and loathing for you/ draft 2

Dealing with your true loves hate and loathing for you/draft 2



fiction
edward w Pritchard

Dealing with your true loves hate and loathing for you requires new skills, new philosophies, and  adroit sensibilities.  

Start with the sophisticated French philosophers, they were experienced in such matters. One can only imagine the peculiarities those guys rolled about in when it came to relations of the heart. La Rouchefoucauld says " if a heart can no longer love it must hate, passionately". I am like you no novice to amour, but I have only loved once, have only one beloved.

Faced with the hatred and loathing for myself from my beloved I become again fledgling in love's sport. I found myself guilty of crimes against my beloved and having suffered greatly for seven years and being properly remorseful, now with time moved forward, have forgiven myself. Seeking no material gain, or forgiveness from another at this time, now I only wish to understand the path of love turned to hate and loathing. 

Initially love commenced as sexual infatuation, subconscious urges to create life. In time excess passion ruled my thoughts toward her. Daily my furor for her grew as I neglected my duties, lost my good name, and became dependent on her for praise and sustenance.  Naturally she began to resent this.

Sensing dissatisfaction of myself from my Love every disagreement becomes crisis, every difference of opinion becomes philosophical schism. From this tempest my mind became consumed with restlessness and worry. The end result of the turmoil was a demolition of the peace and calm of our household.  

Eventually the top blows off the house and a dissolution of affection occurs.

Years pass.  Through study and reflection the mind becomes purged of worry and the heart becomes weak but serene. Relative happiness is achieved.

Mortal life is short and filled with sadness. To send hate and loathing to the one you still secretly Love and admire is not conducive to happiness and joy. Forgive them, forgive yourself your shortcomings. Far out in the lonely woods listen to the gentle winds and hear your loves soft voice anew.  Sunrise, sunset, enjoy sweet memories past of her as they float uncalled across your mind.  In the patterns of the stars see her forgotten movements and in the motion of the planets detect her coy smile.  

Regrets? When you met her you fell in love based on the information at hand. Her light smile and gentle voice. Her genuine affection for you. Far into the future you could see not. Your heart lead you initially in your decision to ask for her hand and your head concurred. The right decision at the time.

Regret not then your choice. Rehash not other possibilities other roads not taken.  Bemoan not yourself for refusing mid course corrections clamping your hands and eyes on another choosing instead to go down with the ship.  

Post separation maintain pure and innocent tender memories concerning years past. Don't repaint pleasant past times with recriminations or suspicions originated by loneliness. 

With pure heart maintain love and affection for former friend though they call you not.

why do we mourn the dead when we are the ones who suffer?

why do we mourn the dead when we are the ones who suffer?

fiction
edward w pritchard

Why do we mourn the dead when we are the ones who suffer?

Late at night a mournful train whistle blows far off in the night. The moaning continues insufferably. Then the sound is gone, removed soon forgotten. Forever silenced casting no net into the future. Significance nil.

So it is with those who pass on. A tumultuous sea of suffering and no one to share it with, no one who understands. Alone we sing into a sea of sorrow.

Please Lord explain so I understand. I am on fire with expectation. Moaning insufferably soon forgotten.

Every morning the ritual of the reading of the charge and verdict were read promptly

Every morning the ritual of the reading of the charge and verdict were read promptly

fiction
edward w pritchard

Every morning the ritual of the reading of the charge and verdict were read promptly  at 8AM.

First the prisoner was awakened and shaved and completed his toilette. At half past seven the breakfast of the day was served, according to the day of the week and the cook's whim unless there was a drought in the local countryside or other such interruption of the routine.

At five of eight the prisoner Delton Wilberry was returned to his cell and sat in his chair facing the doorway. At exactly eight AM Jailer Johnson read the verdict again as he had done yesterday and the day before and the day before that for the last six years and four months and three day. Jailer Johnson would continue to read the prisoner the verdict for the next thirteen years seven months and 27 days or until he Jailer Johnson became very sick or expired and was unable to complete all the duties of his job as a jailer.

After the verdict and sentence was read Delton Wilberry went about his day there in the cell. Sometimes the jailers would issue Delton a new razor or soap and other toiletries for the next morning. Lunch was at noon and dinner at 5:30 PM sharp. Each afternoon there was a half hour mandatory exercise period in the yard barring heavy rains.

Usually Delton Wilberry was indifferent concerning the reading of the verdict and sentence. Sometimes however, Delton would react with emotion or passion to the mornings AM reading of the verdict and sentence. At times it seemed he was hearing the verdict for the first time. No matter despite Delton's reaction to the verdict the routine of the jail would be exactly the same each day and tomorrow at 8 AM sharp the verdict and sentencing would be promptly reread again.

Unless there was a drought or other disruption in the local countryside the routine at the jail would be followed every day.The prisoners reaction to the reading of the verdict and sentence in reality had no bearing on the operation of the jail or the job description of the jailers on duty.

Advice on inflation, interest on savings, productivity of soldiers, good prices at your real grocery store/part 1

Advice on inflation, interest on savings, productivity of soldiers, good prices at your real grocery store/ part 1

fiction
edward w pritchard


People are not good at figuring out what is actually happening but that doesn't stop armchair experts from looking for the cause and effect between everything and anything and writing about it.

This is another of one of those type of articles about inflation and prices. This is advice for young people who are unaware what it means when the Government tells us that inflation will return for real soon.

Back in 1974 or thereabouts  this old writer was selling insurance to black folks in the urban neighborhood trying to get started in life. One afternoon an eighty eight year old black man retired from " The Goodyear" explained to me what inflation was. I was trying to sell him an another insurance policy he didn't need.

" He said, concerning inflation " when the government says inflation is low I get 2% interest on the five thousand dollars I have in the bank and if I want to buy a nice steak I pay 99 cents a pound for a good steak. " If the government says inflation has went up to 16% per year I get about 16% interest on my 5,000 that I have in the bank on the money that it took me my whole life to save. With low inflation I get one hundred dollars interest per year on my money that I can spend if I want to buy a steak now and then or with sixteen per cent inflation and interest rates on savings accounts I get eight hundred dollars a year in interest on my money but with higher inflation a nice steak costs more, about five dollars a pound. Either way I can only have steak a few times a year because my digestion is delicate nowadays. "Well", he said "I guess I'll take the inflation if I can and then I'll choose when to eat steak and what to buy with the higher interest I earn on the money I have in the Bank."

Another time...
end part 1

a gal's gotta be properly invited and must insist on a certain amount of ceremony everywhere and always

a gal's gotta be properly invited and must insist on a certain amount of ceremony everywhere and always

fiction
edward w pritchard


What's life really but in measure a certain amount of a charade? A gal's gotta be properly invited and must insist on a certain amount of ceremony everywhere and always.

Ladies always wait for a phone call; don't get overexcited and invite yourself to a gala or the latest social event in your little piece of the world. If Blanche Dubois [ from Street Car Named Desire] were still around she would agree. Blanche always said keeps the lights low, his hand off your knee until you were ready for it and don't spoil things by being too anxious to get a man's attention.

How a girl sometimes wishes to do like these modern ladies do and text their beau with their intentions is just wrong, wrong wrong. " In the mood respond immediately and in kind", Darla. No, no , no as Grand Mother said, a lady must keep a certain protocol if a man is to remain interested in the long run. Keep him dangling on a string so to speak.

Gals don't invite yourself on dates, don't ever be too intimate and if your are if confronted claim memory lapse and this is important don't text nude pictures of yourself  before you are properly introduced.  A gal's gotta be properly invited and must insist on a certain amount of ceremony and  protocol to properly play the game of life and love.  

this author confused and difficult to understand? Never

this author confused and difficult to understand? Never

fiction
edward w pritchard


Again said author has been criticised for being confused and difficult to understand in his writing. Confusing come on titles of mysterious anecdotal tid bits disguised as literature difficult to understand? Never!

Below is a rewrite; today's ripoff. Author is a little hung over from lack of sleep and has temporarily lost the ability to write about nothing. This is a repost of a previous "story". Filler for a slow day in the writing for free business.
roadie etiquette=how to act when your former partner or close friend no longer needs you

fiction
Edward w Pritchard

Rules of etiquette change for roadies as the original band changes. Members of the group come and go but the original band name usually stays intact. Individual band members change with the success and failures that come with a life in and out of the spotlight and fame scars people in different ways.

Over the years a roadie's stamina will wane. A roadie may work at one thousand successful gigs but one blundering failure obscures decades of diligent effort. Sadly one bad setup is how a roadie will be remembered. Ultimately no one remembers a roadie or prints his picture on an album cover.

A roadies nickname will change occasionally. The changes that a roadies nickname go through are often more revealing of a roadies reputation and status with the band than the tone of voice the band members greet the roadie with in meetings after work or the fact that the roadie must stay at a cheaper hotel than the band members or no longer rides to gigs in a limo or a taxi when hitting a new town or exotic location.

A roadie knows he has become obsolete when instead of being moon scar or boner he becomes Mr. Johnson or "nuisance" to members of the group.

Of course original members of the band who are still around after half a century don't want to be reminded of their age especially by a roadie when he is carrying their guitar cases or setting up drums. Roadies should address band members only when necessary in the course of business and not be chummy or touchy feely with them. Roadies should not talk during meet and greets and shouldn't express personal opinions unless solicited. After work don't ask band members about their health or their private lives.

Roadies don't have pension plans and no one writes books or magazine articles about retired or replaced roadies.

Rules of etiquette for roadies change over time and a good roadie will have thick skin and not confuse proximately and access to band members with friendship or fame itself.

baseball pine tar, spitballs and humidors? 2014 baseball season

baseball pine tar, spitballs and humidors? 2014 baseball season

fiction
edward w pritchard

Epic issues shake the world when a new major league baseball season begins each Spring. Each year the epic metaphorical confrontation of pitching versus hitting results in new technology and uses of old tricks to give either pitchers or hitters the edge in baseball and in life.

Is all fair in baseball?

Yesterday a pitcher gets thrown out for having illegal pine tar on his neck. He didn't even look sorry as he left the field. It must be hard to be contrite when you make that kind of money for throwing a ball around.

Here's what I wrote before:

for Aunt Kelly and Uncle Bob, relatives we miss

Soup and baseball go together

fiction
edward w pritchard

No one was sadder to see Uncle Bob transfer from executive Vice President for a Southern major league baseball team to a team in the west than me. Uncle Bob used to send us baseball tickets for the All Star Game or playoffs and they were the best seats and it was just great.

Uncle Bob is working now for the Colorado Rockies and when he first hit town out in Denver he came up with a brilliant idea but it nearly wrecked his career when the fans began to steal the baseballs and make soup out of them.

It was Uncle Bob's idea to keep the baseballs in a humidor; which because of the high altitude in Denver weren't traveling well causing a dearth of home runs and leading to fan indifference. Keeping the baseballs in a humidor was a great idea and attendance climbed, so did baseballs, resulting in more home runs and everyone was happy but the pitchers. Every week local television or a national magazine would run another story on the novelty of keeping the baseballs in a humidor.

From the success and publicity about the humidor stored baseballs, people began to steal the baseballs for they were rumored to increase virility and since they were too hard to eat raw fans took to cooking them in a salty soup. I understand the broth was very tasty.

Eventually Uncle Bob was in trouble with management and to get out of "hot water" through his contacts in the National baseball media Uncle Bob began to spread the rumor that the soup made from baseballs was fattening and the situation went away.

end

revisit the Kent State shootings/ 2014

revisit the Kent State shootings/ 2014


fiction
edward w pritchard


Downtown Kent looks unusually prosperous these days with the new economic development plans completed. Upscale restaurants, hotels and a University centered convention center. Happy couples of hand holding students stroll about the restaurant district planning long successful lives following their graduation from college. Life has moved on at Kent State forty four years after the May 1970's shootings and those of us who remember the shootings are older but wiser concerning soldiers with loaded weapons.

Where rest the spirits of the four Kent State students shot down by some of the Ohio National guardsmen on May 04, 1970?

Where rest now the souls of Jeffrey Miller 20, Allison Krause 19, Michael Schroder 19 , and Sandra Scheuer 20?

Pray for the four lost students at Kent State in May 1970 and pray for the majority of guardsmen who in conscious fired into the air or the ground. Remember May 1970 when America shot it's own children.


when soldiers come

fiction
edward w pritchard

sky so low
spirits so high
then soldiers come
men bleed, women cry
children hide
soldiers stay
men cry, women bleed
children stare
soldiers here
sky high, wind fierce, spirits low

Doctor is distracted and predisposed

Doctor is distracted and predisposed

fiction
edward w pritchard


Suffering from declining health late in life notice how writer Ed Pritchard describes a trip to the robotic Doctor used in the public health setting circa 2020. Notice that in the story the Doctor is stereotypically " predisposed" to put the business side of medicine ahead of his patients comfort.


Robotic Doctor Plebson Model F-12- Your eye is hurting no, and sensitive to light and sudden movement?

Pritchard- My eye hurts at night when I am tired.

Doctor - You must care for your sight if you wish to have vision available to continue watching  dancing ladies perform Shimmy she shake in Charleston style dressed in period costume of 1920's America on the you tube channel at your private leisure and discretion. 

Pritchard- The Bactrium ointment helps with my eye pain

Doctor- you have exhausted your medical prescription credits, perhaps an ice pack would help with pain management if judiciously applied.

Pritchard- What about the rash from the shingles?

Doctor - your time of visitation and consultation with medical public health officials is over. Perhaps golfing will relieve your stress and anxiety breaking the distress cycle to your auto immune system. My human nurse will give you brochures if asked.

Pritchard- My eye hurts at night when I am tired

Doctor- [distracted and predisposed to his own interests,] leaving the room suddenly, thank you I have a golf date with a colleague; I find golf is excellent for relaxation breaking the distress cycle to my auto immune system caused by a hectic schedule. 

watching the shimmy she shake

watching the shimmy she shake

fiction
edward w pritchard


There was no imminent war going on or threatening to start to keep us apart and the only thing keeping me and Lois McAllisiter from connecting there in her families living room was my shyness.

We had went to mass earlier this evening , the McAllister's were  Catholic, I was wasn't, and Lois was happy with me.

As she came down the steps Lois wearing the white Chino slacks and pink top I liked Lois decided to demonstrate the shimmy she shake for my benefit. Where a nice Catholic girl like Lois ever learned to move her shoulders and arms like that I will never know but the dance she performed got the desired effect.

Lois' brother, who played football on the high school team with me,  who was upstairs in his room that evening, never would look me in the eyes again.  I guess Lois and I were a little loud.

Lois has been out of my life for going on half a century but sometimes it's nice to remember when a nice girl would exhibit her sexuality. Such things as the shimmy she shake were not taught to young ladies then but seem in retrospect to be a spontaneous response to the situation at hand.

It was a different more innocent age before, back then .

  

Putin and Obama, it's time to sing Mr. Bassman by Johnny Cymbal

Putin and Obama , it's time to sing Mr. Bassman by Johnny Cymbal

fiction
edward w pritchard



Mr. Putin and President Obama it's time to sing Mr. Bassman by Johnny Cymbal rather than gather together troops near the Ukraine to contemplate war and fighting.

"It don't mean a thing when the lead is singing or he goes ya, ya , ya ya ya ya. "

"Mr. Bassman, I am asking just one thing." Please don't put troops near each other; so much can go wrong, so many unexpected things can happen.

Don't be like two teenage boys about to fight at a high school dance over a girl neither of you are all that committed to. Before you bring troops to back up your rage, Please Mr. Putin and President Obama it's time to sing Mr. Bassman by Johnny Cymbal rather than fight.

Mr. Putin "you've got that certain something, your the hidden King of Rock and Roll".

President Obama " you set the music thumpin".

Please guys " I really think your with it".

Don't let your egos start a war. " that's it ba ba bom, yeah " try this ba ba bom, ba ba bom". "now you, your doing good. "
end

all in  " " by Johnny Cymbal, [ John Hendry Blair] " Mr. Bassman" 1963

missed the plane/ part 9

missed the plane/ part 9

fiction
Edward w Pritchard







see missed the plane 1 through 8


No one likes to hear a past retold in such a fashion that the imminent importance of a meeting between their Mother and their Father does not occur that results in the history changing event of their creation. Eliminate one merger from occurring and eternity is changed; if the merger is your own creation and birth.

Was My Grandfather Thomas really a Hegel reading Welsh coal miner who played the organ at Buckingham Palace when he was twelve? Everything factual I remember about my father's Father Thomas Pritchard someone else told me. My grandfather had dementia when I first met him. He use to make a cat's cradle with string and wink and wink at me when I was six. Later he would take off West walking for fifty or sixty miles in a mental fog until the police brought him home. He's the one who came to America West from Wales. Maybe since he was a boy he wanted to go West to the new world. Who knows the real facts, who knows the surmising from the imaginative mind of a  wanna-be story teller.

Get to know your blood line relatives. It's not earth shaking important historicism but your children someday may want to know. They may ask you questions.

Your children may ask you:
 "What was it like for my great Grand father to get drafted into World War 2 at age 19 and have his studies of classic piano permanently interrupted? Did my Great Grandfather really miss a plane going to Guam in world War 2 and what did my Great Grand Father think about atomic weapons?"

Soon we are the old guy and a new generation is in the first act of Life's three Act Play. Meet your relatives when you can; talk with your oldest surviving relatives at Holiday parties and pass on what they remember about your family.

Suburban Cowboy; Easter 2014 alone in a crowd

Suburban Cowboy; Easter 2014 alone in a crowd

fiction
Edward w Pritchard


My preferred version of Louie Louie has changed over the years.

Originally the Kingsmen of course, listening for secret verses. Then Richard Berry ultra cool.

Later I listened to The Beach Boys consummate cover of Louie Louie. Then Paul Revere and the Raiders.

Then Iggy Pop, then blondie, Deborah Harry. Then Toots and the Maytals on Louie Louie.

My personal Jesus has changed over the years. What's Jesus up to today? Maybe a little Iggy Pop this year.

missed the plane/ part 8

missed the plane/ part 8

fiction
Edward w Pritchard


Pastor Billington:
Thank you for allowing me to preach today at the funeral of Edward w Pritchard Sr. Thank you for visiting our church the Baptist temple.

Yesterday a man walked on the Moon for the first time; the day before that Mr. Pritchard passed from this world.

American astronauts took a few a tentative steps on the cold rocks of the Moon. Today this is hailed as a great accomplishment.

But what accomplishment is there without the grace of God?

Mr. Pritchard graduated from Morgantown High School in West Virginia at age sixteen.  He was second in his class. His sister Megan who was a year older than Ed was first in the class. Ed graduated early but his sister and friend Megan was valedictorian; who had the better accomplishment?

The next year both Megan and Ed were at Morgantown University keeping up the friendly intellectual competition to be the best student. Megan now a school Principal in  Morgantown remembers that her brother would stay up late studying but did not like to get up early for classes.

A year later Ed was drafted and left school to enter the Air Force as a private. Thomas Pritchard brother of deceased himself a POW in Europe remembers when him and his brother Ed would fight and tousle about  as boys and that his brother was a good backup in a jam in a bar when he, Tom  came home on leave in the Summer of 1942. Tom Pritchard remembers in 1945 when his younger brother Ed was in the Pacific theatre of the War told him, Thomas  " I just want to come home, I just want to play the Piano". The older brother Thomas was a decorated soldier in world War two who was captured and tortured for his Country. The younger brother Ed went to far away Guam and eventually just wanted to come home. Who had the accomplishment as a soldier?

Lt Osborne a friend from Guam who couldn't be here today remembers when his friend Ed would play piano at the NCO club to entertain the lonely GIs back in 1944. Ed always started his set with a religious song or two before the Men would shout for something hot to play.

Nine months ago Edward finished his degree at Akron University. His degree was not in Music and he never became a classical piano or violin player as were his childhood dreams. His dreams and plans were interrupted by world War two where his ears were shot and ruined with infection and when he returned from Guam he never got to play professionally. How many of us have to abandon our dreams and goals of accomplishment because life intervenes?  John Pritchard brother of Edward remembers Ed playing the violin at age three. Oldest brother Ivan remembers their father Thomas Sr, who was strict with his sons, but played Piano and Organ in church himself  sitting at an old Piano at church in West Virginia teaching his five year old son Edward who had the knack and love for music to play piano for the congregation.

Man went to the Moon yesterday to take a tentative step into space but Mankind  had to take with him the water, the air and everything else needed to survive here from Earth. By his grace God gives Mankind what is needed to struggle a few short years and days here on the face of the Earth.

Yesterday man walked on the moon, a few days before Edward W Pritchard Sr. passed from this Earth at age 46.

Where but for the grace of God is man's accomplishment?


 :

missed the plane/ part 7

missed the plane/ part 7

fiction
Edward w Pritchard


how Elmore James and my Father integrated the US military


 note- my Father would never discuss his military service, so this story has a lot of surmising in it, no proof exists to collaborate things.

Guam in the Pacific Ocean in 1944 smack in the middle of the air war against Japan. My Father then 20 years old was company clerk working in a Quonset hut on the edge of the jungle and he had a big problem. The company's radio was on the blink, there was no one to fix it since all the engineers were working on the bomber planes, the Captain was about to have the privates head [my Father], and drastic measures were necessary to fix the radio to allow the war effort against the Japanese from Guam to move forward. 

That's how my Father Ed Pritchard Sr. US Air force company clerk came to meet Elmore James radio repairman US Navy. The radio was duly fixed by James and the two enlisted men became friends over a joint interest in music. Pritchard wanted to be a classical piano player and James played guitar, an electric guitar amplified by his own secret methods, across the American South before the war. 

After a fight between white and black soldiers at the local off duty bar Pritchard, who studied piano and violin at University before he was drafted,  found himself ordered by his Captain to play boogie woogie piano under the direction of Elmo James who had experience leading several pickup bands in the American South before the war. For several months the Black musician Elmore James would sing and play backed up by my Father on piano as lonely white and black soldiers listened to the new style of blues music from the Mississippi delta. There were no more racially motivated fights among the American soldiers on Guam. Some credited it to the music played at the local enlisted men's club.

Later after the war both men would die early deaths from heart problems perhaps suffered from the stress of world war two, and neither received any veterans benefits. Elmore James strongly influenced world wide music in the 1960's although he never received top billing or star status and fame during his lifetime. Ed Pritchard sr., never became a classical piano player, but  once in a while he fooled around with boogie woogie piano for his oldest son before his death in 1969.

missed the plane/ part 6

missed the plane/ part 6


fiction
Edward w Pritchard


My father's early employment history:
Social Studies 4A
Miss Martin/teacher
Eddie Pritchard/writer
October 23, 1962.

My father's early employment history:

My Father's father once played the organ at Buckingham Palace in England. Still as a Welshman, and like many Welshmen by the time he was twenty he ended up working as a coal miner. First in Wales and later in Morgantown, West Virginia where he eventually settled after World War One with his new family.

My Father graduated from high school at age sixteen and enrolled in the University Of Morgantown to study classical piano and violin, having started playing violin since age three. Still like many a young West Virginia lad my Father Edward was taken to the local coal mine by his Father Thomas where he, Thomas asked his boss to get his son, young Edward  a miners job to earn his keep while he studied. Several of my Father's Brother's already worked in the coal mines of Morgantown and except for the interruption of working and serving  as a soldier in World War two my father's brothers would be in the mines the rest of their working lives.

It was a family disgrace. My Father only made it in the coal mines half of one shift. The dark, dangerous, cramped dirty work was not for him. My Father was a tall man and he detested working in the coal mines. It was a Family disgrace until my Father was drafted in the US Air Force at age 19 and served his Country until the end of World War two.

While working as company clerk at an air corp unit in Guam my Father was involved in the unit that fitted the plane  Enola Gay in Guam with bomb holding deck modifications that helped in the first atomic bomb being dropped on Japan which ended the War early without the ordeal of a land invasion of Japan. Like many soldiers then my Father had many reservations later about atomic weapons when he saw photos on the horrible damage done by the atomic blasts.

The Morgantown ordinance was a large 875 acre industrial military complex built in Morgantown WVA in 1941 to produce deuterium oxide now known as heavy water which may have been used in the manufacturing process to create the atomic bomb fitted at Guam, deployed from North Field Tinian that destroyed the City of Hiroshima in Japan in 1945. Later that year after he was honorably released from the US Air force my Father was offered a chance to work on wrap up work at the Morgantown Ordinance for the military. My Father chose instead to return to University to study piano.

Unfortunately my father was unable to play piano or violin at a professional level after leaving the Air Force because of damage to his hearing inflicted by virus he suffered in the jungles of Guam. My father currently is a clerical worker at a trucking company in Akron, Ohio.

 My father will not discuss his involvement with the atomic bomb project at Guam in World War two to this day.

B+
good work Edward, you can succeed if you apply yourself
Miss Martin
end

missed the plane/ part 5

missed the plane/ part 5

fiction
Edward w Pritchard


To: private first class Richard Nelson
VHF radio operator
crew Enola Gay

from
former Corporal
Ed Pritchard
Guam
June 1959


Rick:

It was so nice to hear from you after all these years.

It troubles me to remember those days in the War at Guam. In some ways it seems like it all happened to someone else. I am often troubled by what we did.

Still I wish to cooperate with the book project on the Enola Gay mission. Although I would prefer to not mention my work with my friend Lieutenant Osborne I will offer a few memories of our days together of a non confidential nature. I realize that the work has become declassified still I do not wish to breach the promises I made to Lt. Osborne to maintain absolute confidentiality about what we did. On that note I mention my last contact from military intelligence on this matter was in 1954.


Two incidents from my days at Guam come to mind.

The first while not directly related to the Enola Gay mission preparation might demonstrate to a reader what it was like to fight the Japanese there at Guam. I will  write about night guard duty at the base which was mandatory for all enlisted personnel, even myself a company clerk. The Japanese soldier we pursued at night was a fanatical soldier willing to sacrifice his life to further their Countries cause. Walking through the jungles at night was a terrifying ordeal for me.


Incident One

note as recounted by Corporal Pritchard's son, writer of this blog
Myers Evans=Edward Pritchard sr

Five Stories in One

The five senses

Taste
August 25, 1944

fiction
edward w pritchard

Corporal Myers Evans was walking night guard duty in the jungle of Guam at 2AM in World War two. He detested this assignment.

The jungle was alive with small insects that bit at his face and nested in his ears. The soggy ground was clutching at the soles of his boots. The low vegetation tripped at his ankles and shins. Sharp briers stuck into to his arms and back. Hanging tree snakes struck at his exposed neck. His heavy rifle was tugging at his aching muscles as he struggled to keep it pointed away from the Australian soldier walking in front of him. Invisible Japanese loyalists hid in wait or marched silently in the dark night.

To escape Myers began to taste Karla's skin back in Ohio. She was part Egyptian through her Grandfather and in very private moments he told her she tasted like saffron. As he walked he savored her flavor ten million or more miles away and did so until guard ended at 5AM.

end incident one

Incident 2

My flight to Guam in world war 2 was unusual in every way. First off there were only the pilot myself and one Lieutenant on the plane. Not wishing to attract attention by the Japanese we were unescorted and basically unarmed. Also we flew on a flight provided by the Canadian air force.

What a flight. Speed being essential we flew low through several storm fronts. Several times we dropped vertically two to three hundred feet. A year later, after that flight I was playing piano at a small NCO club in Guam at the end of the war and the pilot who had flown me in originally came by to talk. The pilot said his orders were to get Osborne to Guam and the sensitive equipment we carried to Guam safely without consideration to the comfort of the men on board. The pilot said it was the only time in four years of military missions that he was even airsick himself. He remembered me as a unique shade of green, he said.

missed the plane/ part 4

missed the plane/ part 4

fiction
Edward w Pritchard


Declassified
June 1957


to: Lt. Colonel Boris Pash
Counter Intelligence/ Western Defense command
October 1943


from: Captain Mayes
field agent

re: Lieutenant Osborne
Department of Substitute Materials

Sir:

Osborne who missed his original plane to Guam this morning successfully took off on a second flight to Guam by single unescorted military transport.

Last night two suspicious women were with Osborne and his aide dining and drinking at the Highlander club near Pearl Harbor. The women are not suspected of spying probably being ordinary working girls.

Both Osborne and his new aide Pritchard turned in early and alone possibly afraid to miss another flight as Private Pritchard also missed his units flight to Guam a few days ago. Pritchard was reassigned as Osbrone's aide and body guard for the immediate future.

God speed to Osborne; may he arrive safely in Guam to complete his mission.

missed the plane/ part 3

missed the plane/ part 3

fiction
Edward w Pritchard


Part of my new job along with being driver and body guard with Lieutenant Osborne has been to become his philosophical associate. Last night after our dinner in Pearl Harbor where we were fortunate to spend some time with two nurses over an extravagant dinner the Lieutenant gave me a book to read and discuss.

The book will help me to understand the new project I will become a small part of that may end the  War a little sooner the Lieutenant said.  At the time I thought that Lieutenant Osborne might have had a little too much wine when he intimated that the efforts of a Private and a Lieutenant could speed up the colossal War effort.

Still I have plunged into reading the new book. How can my reading Carl Clausewitz " On War" prepare me for the work I will assist Lieutenant Osborne with in Guam on the secret " Manhattan Project"? It will be revealed to me in time says the Lieutenant.

Meanwhile Osborne was pleased that I knew Clausewitz was a Hegelian and a Prussian soldier. My Father had discussed Clausewitz with me in regard to world War one when I was a teenager and the fact that I knew about his work even in the little was reassuring said Lieutenant  Osborne.

Tomorrow we leave for Guam. Hopefully neither myself or Lieutenant will miss the plane again for a second time. For tonight I am trying hard with a decent looking nurse who I will never see again and enjoying some fantastic Hawaiian seafood.

missed the plane/ part 2

missed the plane/ part 2


fiction
Edward w Pritchard

Lieutenant Osborne who I am driving about beautiful Hawaii was like me not the ideal soldier. Case in point he showed me my personality profile that he had been given in confidence the other day at the airport. He wanted me to see it he said.

First though Hawaii isn't all that special a place to be for me here in the middle of world War 2.

In a few days I get additional orders in regard to being an aide to Lieutenant Osborne who is some sort of scientist but definitely not a typical soldier. He and I are flying to Guam by military plane tomorrow. It is an unescorted flight so landing in Guam will be very dangerous.

Here is the first page of my personality profile. I leave out my medical record as my nature is evident from the armies report.

Personality and attributes:
Private/ Air Force
Edward w Pritchard

born march 1923
Morgantown WVA
drafted February 1942

Based on a review of this Private's personality, education and skills it is recommended that Pritchard
be in a clerical position as he is now where he is a competent company clerk.  Subject types and enjoys paperwork according to company commander who subjects  works for.

1. Military record to date is no combat. Subject is moderately athletic having played basketball in High School. This is a tall man in the style of Abe Lincoln. Tall and slim and strong but usually non violent. Subject attended Morgantown University studying to be a concert pianist or violin player. Subject is described as sensitive but did not try to avoid military service and scored with proficiency in rifle, bayonet and hand to hand combat. Subject was in one bar fight during basic, helping a friend in a jam, not disciplined.

Subject reads, plays popular piano for the guys after duty and enjoys Poker. Subject met with the Chaplain for complaints of homesickness. Routine and usual in nature. Family are coal miners and according to chaplain's notes, it is a  close family. Parents were from England. Two other brothers in US military at this time. One is now in a POW camp in Europe.

3. As for  subject as soldier, perhaps not an ideal soldier but after all, he was drafted and serves competently.
end

Tonight Osborne and I are going to a very swanky restaurant. The Lieutenant is from a wealthy family and is use to the best and from here on out we are eating in the field. I understand that I will assist the Lieutenant as he begins his implementation of the Manhattan project in Guam.
end part 2

missed the plane/part 1

missed the plane/part 1

friction
Edward w Pritchard


The US military had a way of quickly bringing someone to their appropriate level of utility and efficiency. Everyone was weighed in the balance of their usefulness and value to their country's winning the war.

I felt the vibrating before I heard the roar of the goony bird taking off from Honolulu to Guam. It was the worse thing a soldier could have done. Worse than if the whole plane had been shot out of the sky by Japs. Better if I had been hit by a sniper on my first step off the plane upon arrival in Guam for the re invasion. I had missed the plane. My nineteen years of life so far were wasted. Disgraced. AWOL.

Everything was bustling and chaotic at the airport. Finally I found the proper desk.

The officer on duty was a captain, I think. He was Canadian Air force; we studied the ranks of Canadian air force in basic.

" Sir, I whispered saluting, Private Ed Pritchard reporting tardy for flight 14.

" you screwed up big time Wally" the Captain said without looking up. "sit over there with the dumb Lieutenant. The lieutenant obviously hung over had his head in a green bucket occasionally throwing up.

After waiting on the bench for an hour with Lieutenant Osborne the Canadian Captain  grilled and yelled at me a while and then gave me new orders.

I was to drive Lieutenant Osborne to Pearl Harbor. Captain Wilbur gave me a side arm and a silver M/P helmet. My job for the next three days was driver and body guard for Osborne.

Captain Wilbur sent me off with another " don't screw this up Wally" as he handed me the keys.
end part 1

hell has no Irish section of town

hell has no Irish section of town

fiction
Edward w Pritchard

The landscape of Hell has no floor or ceiling, all the suffering  goes on vertically on a wall. There is no gravity in Hell so nothing falls downward. There is no down in Hell.

A fabric of organic folds like rabbit skin or the neck of a hound dog hold all the inhabitants of Hell in place. Veins and capillaries in the organic folds connect all of the inhabitants to each other. Despite their individual nature to their sins and punishments all the inhabitants of Hell can feel all the eternal suffering of everyone else. From afar the organic folds of Hell's are alive with a writhing surface of weed like creeping foliage expanding all at once in every direction.

Hell has no Irish section. The Irish despite their sins or religious beliefs always properly and timely atone for their sins before they pass on.

Hell is entered through the junkyard/ parts 1 through 6

Hell is entered through the junkyard/ parts 1 through 6

see parts Hell 1 to three and more on Hell part of which is below as part 4

fiction
edward w pritchard

part 4

Me[again]- tell me about hell, where you are "supposed" to live

The Devil- it's very loud

Me- does it give you a "'headache"

The Devil- yes, you have no idea

me - go on

the Devil- it's hard to recall the details of hell, even for me
end part 4

part 5

me - I insist you must speak about the headache, you must recall the details

the Devil- " he whose face gives no light shall never become a star"

me- you are plagiarizing William Blake

the Devil- does your face burn from the shingles?

me- yes, very much

the Devil- magnify the intensity and the duration by ten trillion and you have the idea of eternal fires of Hell and the pain on the skin

me- it's not imaginable to have skin pain or headaches trillions of times more than now I experience

the devil- like the measles virus that hid and slept in waiting to emerge inside your body so your past crouches to reveal itself after your death

me- " a dead body revenges not injuries"

the Devil- if that's William Blake again, he's got it

me - go on, please tell me the experience of Hell

end part 5

Part 6

the Devil- "what is now proved was once only imagined"

me- that is William Blake, "the proverbs of Hell"  go on

the Devil- imagine if you can, a Place, a Place unlike any you have known, a place of no light but a place where the most horrible sights may be seen by you eyes. Your eyes which burn with intolerable pains from fires and grisly scalding rocks and hot shivers. No comforting tears relieve your misery for you are alone, forsaken. There is no consolation, only eternal despair.

me- I recall reading that description of Hell by St Theresa, you should mention someone when you quote or paraphrase

The devil-the scriptures call Hell " a pool of sulfur and fire", "a fiery furnace where the fire is never extinguished" and an "eternal fire " and a " Gehenna of fire".

Me- this pain I suffer now in my right eye seems a " Geheena of fire" today

the Devil- imagine ten trillion days and ten trillion cells of your body involved in eternal suffering

me-I wonder, is it logical to doubt the existence of Hell

The Devil- "it is the same fire that tortures the damned and purifies the elect" that's St Augustine by the way

Me- my eye burns tonight
end
part 6

Monkee's on the infield

Monkees on the infield

fiction
edward w pritchard


Some criticise  the American 60's music group the Monkees because they were recruited by promoters instead of forming spontaneously on a street corner while harmonizing under a street lamp or as just a group of buddies singing between classes in high school. Me, I was always a fan.

Too bad the four guys, Mike, Peter, Micky and Davy aren't all around or have gotten too old to be recruited to play the infield this year for the Cleveland Indians. The tribe have gotten off to a slow start and could use a little of the esprit de corps, humor and improvisation the Monkees could provide to put a little life back in the Cleveland baseball scene.

Mike could be the old pro at first base. Davy fast and light footed could cover second. Peter at short stop could flip the ball to Davy to start mini a double play. Another long time pro Micky could handle the corner at third.

Good professional baseball teams are built one position at a time by the back office staff and indeed the entire field support staff of scouts and road men. A group like the Monkee would be professional at all times when they traveled from city to city going to away games. Riding " the last train to Clarksville" the lads would joke about all of Davy's and Micky's ladies in the next town and Mike could read a philosophy book while Peter dosed off on the long train rides.

Too bad we can't recruit the Monkees to back up the Cleveland Indians on the infield this year. It looks like we can use a little help at the plate and some sure hands in the field.

Let's listen to " I'm a believer" and hope for the best for the Cleveland Indians anyway despite a slow start in April 2014.

intimate bar; intimate Church

intimate bar; intimate Church

fiction
edward w pritchard



The same urge that drives a small group of strangers to frequent a small intimate hideaway bar on an unfamiliar backstreet in a run down neighborhood starts and fans the growth of a new God fearing Church.

New Churches are risky. So often an established congregation will use subterfuge to proselytize their members for every Minister is under business pressure to grow the business.  

New churches have hand painted wrinkled signs hung a little crookedly by Miss Dailey the retired widow Art teacher proudly proclaiming that " The House of the Brethren" meets here Sunday's  and Tuesday nights at 7. Come and bring your friends, all denominations are welcome.

New Churches are full of crisp Preaching and hearty hymn singing. Services are long and there is a lot of hand shaking; after no one leaves for a long time. Standing near the front door leaning on right leg then left there is so much to talk about. Parking is difficult on urban streets. Sometimes someones car won't start and five men will hover over the problem. 

Rented hymnals are shared. There are three preachers, but only Mrs. Felton takes a pay for it's hard to cover rent in a New church building. The landlord reluctantly agreed to a 20% discount after Brother  Adkins who runs the shoe repair on Market had a Thursday meeting with the ladies support committee.

New Churches love children especially teenagers who have gotten on the wrong path in life. At Saturday morning brainstorming session plans are always in progress to put up a basketball court so the teeners can have a wholesome place to hang out. New building budget is shot because of all the troubled teens who receive a weekly allowance for cleaning up around the church.

For a year or two there is an excitement about going to a new Church. Before the politics, backbiting, and regulations are imposed on the congregation by the strongest in the newly forming hegemonial leadership groups a new church can be fun to attend.

The same urge that drives a small group of strangers to frequent a small intimate hideaway bar on a unfamiliar backstreet in a run down neighborhood starts and fans the growth of a new God fearing Church.

waking in Urek

Waking in Urek

fiction
Edward w Pritchard

When the wind shakes and howls the house late at night, at 3:17AM sharp I awake pleasantly deep in memories of my life in Urek on the Euphrates river.

When I remember living in Urek back then in 3000 BC I think thoughts in todays language of English. But, I remember laying with past wives and holding my ancient children. We sat around a fire and ate first meal very early for work started at dawn. The language we spoke then is distantly familiar and just beyond recollection.

As the wind dies down here in 2014 in Ohio and the rain begins to patter my past life seeps away and try as I might I can't recall someone's voice or touch but the sensation of memory is pleasant and takes a long while to dissipate.

Urek or biblical Erech is not the first place I lived before but it left an impression for it was crowded and bustling, an early City and I had a good life there. We ate a crispy dry bread dripping with the oils of mysterious plants such as fennel and celery and the water from the wells was sweet and cold in hot early mornings. My companion wore thick clothes to cover her body but my hands remember the curves of her hips awakening early together in the pre dawn light.

more about Hell

more about Hell

fiction
Edward w Pritchard



Me- It's not unusual to have strange dreams

the Devil- the strange part about my dream was the sense of calm contentment that came over me after the dream was over

Me- did you Immediately understand what the dream was about?

the Devil- I remember what it was about, do you want me to tell you the details?

Me- yes but you should tell me what you think the dream means before you retell the details. In the retelling new subconscious factors will change the interpretation. New interpretations of revelations that your subconscious wants to reveal to you will be carried to you by your choice of words and images when you retell your dream.

the Devil- The dream is about me never feeling welcome and not having a place to be myself

Me- Ok tell me the details

the Devil- I am in a room not in my house on a bed resting and I am awakened by someone drilling a hole in the ceiling up and off to my left. Shavings of wood are drifting down from above toward me. I jump up and I am wearing someone else's shirt. When I try to change the shirt before it can be revealed to those above I can't lift my arms to remove the shirt which is tight across my back as if it were a part of my skin. In the dream I realize that the house I am in is a place I used to own but now I am an intruder in the house. I awaken very calm. Although soon I get a strange headache with a desire to be somewhere, anywhere  else.

Me What do you think the shirt part means?

the Devil- something about affiliation, I am not wearing the correct "jersey"

Me- and the drilling part, is it a man performing the task of drilling?

The Devil- yes someone confident and workman like

Me - when a human has that type dream image it could mean something about infidelity

the Devil- like someone in my life is being duplicitous?

Me- well that's an intellectual way to put it I suppose

Me[again]- tell me about hell, where you are "supposed" to live

The Devil- it's very loud

Me- does it give you a "'headache"

The Devil- yes, you have no idea

me - go on

the Devil- it's hard to recall the details of hell, even for me
end part 4

Too much pessimism about everything in america/ part 2

Too much pessimism about everything in America/ part 2

fiction
Edward w Pritchard


Jobs, it really about jobs most of the time if society is to function properly. How to match all the people who want to work with the available jobs is daunting. How to have everyone who needs to work find a job is overwhelming. How to develop younger people to find solid careers and stay in them but move elsewhere when skills become obsolete or undervalued in the market place can give a job placement professional a headache.

The daunting problem of finding jobs for people who want to work in an available job must be approached systematically. One job at a time.

Case in point is this guy Mark Zuckerberg CEO of Facebook. On the face of things Zuckerberg  doesn't seem an easy person to place in a job. His skills are a little irrelevant. He studied the classics in High school, but dropped out of college in his junior year. He isn't known as a team player having been on the fencing team; true he was Captain but he tends to see things only from his own point of view which causes him to thrust and charge forward with outrageous ideas like putting peoples pictures on line without their explicit permission.

However Zuckerberg' family helped the lad. His computer programming interests were encouraged, his Father hired him private tutors and he was encouraged to attend Harvard. Raised Jewish, although later becoming atheist, the value of work and career were present in the household.

All in all maybe there was one ideal job for Mark Zuckerberg and he found it; billionaire CEO of a social network site. Sometimes the system of matching jobs and people's skills and talents just works.
Also Zuckerberg  probably makes enough money to ensure his wife won't have to seek employment.

A second job match could also be handled by having a Father help his sons. Second case in point Ward Cleaver of the television show " Leave it to Beaver" could help his boys Wally and Theodore finds jobs by taking them to his work place and introducing them to his boss and seeing if he could get them employment. Ward worked in an office and sometimes had to go in on Saturday's but he had a good life overall and his wife didn't have to work outside the home except charity work and things like that. Ward also had plenty of time for dealing with week to week and episode to episode family problems. Also the family had a nice car to take long drives in and they could go to restaurants occasionally.

Helping young people find good jobs and careers. It all starts with the Family.

too much pessimism about everything in America/part 1

too much pessimism about everything in America/part 1

fiction
Edward w Pritchard

advice to self, the glass is always 50/50%


I know things are bad attitude wise here when I am one of the more optimistic eyes on the American scene. So many look for the bad in everything.

The jobless rate goes down and we are told by doubters that its just more crummy jobs. Obama care enrollments go up some and we hear " ah yes, but the cost of the premiums is discouraging." You know the rest I won't continue the list except that the stock market is at an all time high; yes but it will only go down soon and then the real trouble starts, it's 1929 over and over.

Complaints about the economy and the American way of life are the new " attacks on sin" as practiced by the puritanical element of all societies world over. Once someone has been there and done it all they immediately began to preach to others that the trip was wrong.  They say don't do what I did, its not really what it seems.

Make your own happiness. Don't rely on others for your confirmation.

Don't covet what you don't need or really want. Be satisfied with a handful. Get off the merry go round of American greed.

Life here is good sometimes and bad sometimes. Help others but don't make things worse with qualifiers, power trips through skillful control of language,  and,  just chill out dude.

The American way is entrenched, yes it could end, it could go away and never be the same but it's not likely to happen in your life time.

Brides still want rings, Young men still want women, families still want children and children still want to run and play. Parents still have to work and the fruits get unjustly rewarded sometimes.

Everybody has anxiety about finding their way in the world and the world isn't easy.

Many of us were dosed with fears as children.

 Let todays children see the world as full of possibilities. Don't dose them with doubt before they can understand and discern the system they live in.

remember when you saw your first blood red Moon?

remember when you saw your first blood red Moon

fiction
Edward w Pritchard


The earth casts a very long shadow and 400 million months ago is a long time to remember back.

You were very busy then. Moving about cautiously but continuously in the early morning moon light.

Up you looked and noticed the Moon was different. It was full yes but this time Blood Red.

Awareness begins now. Back 40 million years ago when we were Lemurs when you first saw the blood Red Moon . Back when we scurried around very busy hunting, hunting, carefully always hunting. Moving, moving to survive.

One night you looked up.  The Blood Red full Moon filled the sky. What is it, it must mean something? For four long seconds a lemur looks up at something not involved in hunting or gathering and in that four second reflection begins awareness. Red the color of blood but above hung in the sky.

Dash awareness forward 40 million years past our days as our ancestor a lemur to now when we are rational scientific humans.

The Blood Moon happens on April 15, 2014.

What does it mean. What does the Blood Red Moon mean now?

Remember when you saw your first Blood Red Moon?

Remember; the earth casts a very long shadow.

hell is entered through the junkyard parts 1, 2, and now part 3

hell is entered through the junk yard/part 1

fiction
edward w pritchard

My recently dead friend was driving the big old car very fast through the back streets toward the local junk yard. I was in the back seat.
A childhood friend also long dead waved to us as we entered between the cluttered junk cars and piles of old parts. Cranes and bull dozers pushed the old car parts about.
My friend chatted to me into the back seat like a cab driver entertaining a paying customer. My friend backed the big powerful car too quickly back first into a row of junk cars. The car we were in had a door at the rear like a station wagon, or was it a hearse.
A large ferocious black dog guarded the entrance to a subterranean space that the swinging back door of our vehicle was now blocking. The dog viciously tried to get at me in the car.

Calmly I prepared to enter the descending road into hell that the large black dog Cerberus loyally guarded.

end part 1

part 2

Hell is entered through the junk yard part 2

I wasn't about to enter hell through a junk yard. I was concocting an elaborate dream obviously induced by the shot of medicine the two ambulance drivers had given me at the basketball court where I had badly broken my ankle. Something ominous was happening to me and my subconscious was warning me.

I could hear the two ambulance drivers talking. They might need to give the guy in the back another shot. I was the guy in the back. I shook off the dream about the junkyard and going to hell and willed myself to lay still and focus on what the guys were saying.

They were going to take me somewhere and sell me for future medical parts. I was sure I heard that. I knew that was real. I couldn't let them give me another shot. I had to wake up and protect myself.
end part 2

part 3
hell is entered through the junk yard

There are elaborate rules and protocols to be followed but in the end they will get you and in my case I was about to enter Hell. There was no one to protect me and the ambulance guys had arranged all of the things properly on their end and there was no one to protect me, I was the victim who was being wheeled in an ambulance into Hell. The doors of the ambulance were closed and sealed,  the lights and siren were a-flashing and the ambulance was being piloted at 70 miles an hour and every one was moving out of our way and I was being carted to Hell.

Hell is a place, that's the first thing. Hell is not a metaphysical speculation it is an actual eternity of horrors. It doesn't make sense and it is not fair or just. The reality of Hell is frightening. Don't go to Hell unless you have to and if you have to go to Hell try not to stay. You can Hell leave but it's not easy.

You are so much more vulnerable to the clutches of Hell if you are alone.

This story is not to scare you. I only want to help you, to avoid damnation and a trip to Hell. Whether you enter Hell through the junk yard like I did or by your own chosen road your trip to Hell begins with denial. You will think, your philosophy will be that infinite suffering is not modern, it is a quaint story to scare children. Of that you will be sure, long before you are standing at the gates of Hell.

So to you, I tip my glass fellow unrepentant sinner, your mortal sins have been revealed and now it is your time to go to Hell. Then- What is Hell and what will it be like for you to be in Hell?

You heard it said more than once- how to avoid Hell but you didn't believe and you didn't listen, that's fact one.

Fact two  is you were too busy with those sinful practices that got yourself into trouble to consider that hell lasts forever. Forever is a long time you will come to realize.

Fact three is no one is condemning you to Hell. You did it your self. You die unrepentant. No one knows when they will die and the business of repentance must be carried out before hand if you are to avoid going to Hell for mortal sins.

Fact four is God gives grace but you were too busy to worry about such trivialities back when things were going very well for yourself.

Fact five must be that if God's mercy is infinite why must you and I go to Hell just because we were too busy to listen to the information about repentance and an eternity of suffering. Aren't humans incapable of comprehending eternity?

Fact six is there are laws of God.

Fact seven- I have been driven in the ambulance under the control of the ambulance drivers. Alone I waited to be taken to the place of their choosing.

Fact eight - When you arrive all attention centers on you. All is arranged and you are the star of the action.

Fact nine - Live or die you must play your part.

Fact ten- you seem to be at a hospital. You came in a siren blaring ambulance and two men brought you.

Fact eleven- have you addressed your mortal sins?

Fact twelve- the next half hour is critical.

Fact thirteen- you don't believe in Hell yet you are laying on a table and your life is passing before you but you are strangely calm and not afraid.

Fact fourteen- every one talks over you as if you are not here, as if it's not all about you.

end part three
Fact twelve- take a deep breath, all is arranged

end part three