peace arrives like a dark night over a full moon

peace arrives like a dark night over a full moon

fiction
edward w pritchard

Sitting upright, hours till the eve of battle begins. Peace arrives like a dark night over a full moon. Listen, the moon casts no shadow, the hour of battle approaches but I am at peace, restfully I doze.

My enemy stirs and coughs in sleep. Sounds filter, softly small animals creep about the battlefield. I am hungry with anticipation. Confident I remember. Life beckons, soon the hour of battle begins.

Two years later, after the battle of Gettysburg, I sit in Baltimore and remember the shelling. Hours and hours of merciless bombardment. Bullets so thick a man could hold up a glass jar and have it pulverized in moments. Yet I am intact. No sense worrying about shrapnel metal and minnie balls now.

Greet life anew.

let's reconsider our options in Syria/ part 2

let's reconsider our options in Syria/ part 2

fiction
edward w pritchard

Dark night,
dark night, dark night.

Carrying torches, we march,
Our enemies threaten, we march, we march
It's not for us to decide who is to blame, we march, we march, we march.

As we march, tomorrow never comes; we sing.
Our leaders know who is to blame, we sing, we sing;
It's not important who our enemy is, we sing, we sing, we sing.

Tomorrow never comes; we sing, we carry torches, we march in the dark.

Our leaders know who is to blame, we salute; Heil. 

Tomorrow arrives, howl; dark night, dark night, dark night, howl, howl.

let's reconsider our options in Syria

let's reconsider our options in Syria

fiction
edward w pritchard

There is a definite war party in America constantly urging us into foreign wars. This author is not privy to all the facts concerning intervention in Syria but based on our experience in Iraq and Afghanistan your author suggests a period of cooling off while every diplomatic avenue is considered before the United States gets involved in an expensive foreign escapade. Since the government is trying many diplomatic attempts to resolve or delay entry into the internal problems of Syria; here's is one more suggested previously by the author to keep the United States out of Syria. Any effort that delays or eliminates the US being drug into war is to be considered.


War is absurd; Gidget goes to Syria on a peace mission

fiction
edward w pritchard

Desperate to try anything to stop the violence in Syria the United States sent the fictional character Gidget, movie and television star of the 1950's, and 1960's to Syria on a peace mission. Still perky and upbeat at age 72 plus, what better emissary of the United States than Gidget to send to the war torn nation of Syria to stop the insanity of war.

Both Syrian government forces and rebels alike admitted confusion by the choice of ambassador from the powerful United States. " What's an untrained, inexperienced, broken hearted college drop-up going to do to help us settle our differences" said one of the rebels who choose to remain nameless, but who was obviously familiar with the Gidget character created by Frederick Kohner American screen writer.

Meanwhile Gidget has been staying in and touring the ancient City of Damascus as a tourist. By unspoken mutual agreement both sides in the Syrian conflict have temporarily suspended hostilities in Damascus until Miss Lawrence [maiden name] returns to Hollywood.

"Damascus is a beautiful City" said Gidget, "reminds me a little of Rome". Asked about the War in Syria Gidget Lawrence wrinkled her nose and frowned " War is simply absurd".

Ask for comment, on Gidget's peace keeping mission to Syria, from his home in America, Gidget's one time love interest actor and singer James Darren [ now married] said "Gidget's quite a character, if anyone can stop the violence in Syria, I am sure Gidget can do it. " " Gidget once worked at the United Nations you know in the peace keeping department  in the 1969 telemovie " Gidget Grows Up" concluded Mr Darren.

War in Syria continues meanwhile in Aleppo.
end

3 am again, transported to Duluth Minnesota

3 am again, transported to Duluth Minnesota

fiction
edward w pritchard

I always become aware out on the highway, three miles from the airport, the busy highway with the high fences and no access. I have to run, slowly, now, this damn heart condition, along the high fences toward  downtown Duluth Minnesota. No one really lives here, who ever actually was in Duluth Minnesota, nothing happens there.

I have two hours till things happen. It's explained to me carefully; go here then there and take the highway, you can travel along the fence but be on time, they are waiting in downtown Duluth for you. Over and over, get to Duluth and then it will done with, competed once and for all.

It's almost time for the meeting in Duluth Minnesota; an element of danger exists but it's important. The meeting nowhere in Duluth Minnesota.

three days on a chain gang part 4

three days on a chain gang
fiction
edward w pritchard



I found my notes from what Ed Williams told me one day when we worked together picking up papers out on Route 30 back then in the 1980's. He was brooding that there was so much suffering everywhere. He refused to be comforted I remember by the fact that 80% of everybody was doing fine.  He was 61 years old I remember and had spent his life reading ten thousand books. While everyone else was happy he saw the blue part of the world.







Why I have the blues sometimes


a work of tired satire,
why do so many people suffer
how do we accept suffering without religion, without the promise that
salvation later makes up for suffering now and our pathetic woes in the here and now should be endured
can we take solace in the philosophy of the greatest good for the greatest number?
 

sub title
There's Just too Many People

fiction/ writing as
edward williams

The problem with my Country of America is there's just too many people. We the People have so successfully conquered our environment here in America that we have overfilled everything and there are no natural enemies, no wars and no epidemics too cull the herds of people. No better example in history of a successful prosperous society has existed than our American society now. Three hundred million Americans in aggregate have conquered and controlled our environment overly successfully.

The problem is in any environment a species has a lot members who can't cut it. The unsuccessful. Those who believe in evolutionary theories think five or ten or twenty percent of the species who aren't the elite physically, mentally or psychologically are culled by the invisible forces of survival of the fittest. To keep the numbers manageable and ideal in the environment nature eliminates the weak. Unfortunately with humans now those unsuccessful don't just disappear like animals out on the savanna. What to do with those who can't cut it, can't make the grade in the schools, the workforce, or the jungle of accumulating and investing money to provide security for their some-day. How do we get rid in American society of the unsuccessful members who are economically and physically weak.

The schools have a certain percentage of students who just can't cut it. Some students can't sit in a chair for a whole class period, won't or can't call the Teacher Mr. or Mrs., they just can't conform. What are we to do with students who can't sacrifice today to prepare for tomorrow's challenges. A certain percentage of students can't conform and since they don't conform they don't prepare and the unprepared students don't ever reap tomorrow's harvest. Twenty percent of America's students don't cut it.

The workforce has a certain percentage of workers who can't stay in a job. Can't call the boss or owner Mr. or Mrs., can't work a whole shift, can't stay in their own field no matter what and if their field disappears can't retrain successfully. What happens to the twenty percent of American workers Who can't successful retrain and successfully pick the next right work-field to be in?

Twenty percent of Americans in all endeavors can't cut it. It's the natural order of things. What to do with twenty percent of the three hundred million Americans who can't cut it and who the Country doesn't want to carry? Families won't take care of their own anymore, churches can't be expected to take care of sixty million Americans who can't cut it. Government made too many promises already; Government they can't take care of fifty million Americans.

. What to do with the sixty million Americans who can't cut it.

Nature won't help it seems. It's been a long time since anything bad enough happened to cull off sixty million Americans. If something did happen to kill off sixty million, something  real real bad, the rest of the surviving Americans would have to deal with the loss of one fifth of their Countrymen. The weak it's true but some of them would be missed and such a loss would  make some of us sad.

Perhaps America should start changing our philosophy now to prepare for the worse, the reduction of a large number of our population by a catastrophic event, be it maybe inevitable.

Let's look to one of our Asian neighbors with a successful long history as a society. India has a five thousand year history. How did the Country of India in the past deal with a similar problem to what we discuss here. How did the Country of India develop a philosophy to promote individual success among it's elite members that would enable them to turn a blind eye to the suffering of a large number of people at hand but out of sight, even though that large number of people was right in their midst?

Interestingly one of ancient India's philosophies called Artha focuses in part on how should the individual act to succeed in life and society. What's the best philosophy for an individual to acquire towards others who are the unfortunates in society according to one of the ancient philosophies of India. It's simple, says an ancient philosophy of India. Just look upon them [  the unsuccessful in society] like you would look upon on a door. Treat everyone else like you would a door. As an object. Then you can be successful in life without feeling undo conscious toward the misfortunes and woes suffered by the weak in society.

When you must speak of the suffering of others speak as you have steeled your heart to say, through conformity to the general rules, designed to  enable you to succeed, and not be unduly concerned with what you see of the woes of others around you. By all means do not speak your heart or your feelings but act expediently to promote the general good for the greatest number of people in society. Then you can take heart in the fact that 80% of the folk will be successfully educated, successfully working, and successfully happy in life. That is the greatest good for the greatest number.

three days on a chain gang / part 3

three days on a chain gang / part 3

fiction
edward w pritchard

The second day I was working on the " chain gang" under the supervision of deputy Watkins I had to do double duty; I had to pick up trash like everybody else out along route 30 near Louisville, Ohio and I had to carry water to the five other guys and Coach Watkins. Still it was a very enjoyable day, despite the hot sun, despite bending over and picking up all sorts of garbage and debris along the roadside, and despite wearing a bright orange shirt that said Stark County work farm on it. Everyone that drove by knew that work farm was a euphemism for prison.

I learned the word euphemism from another member of our work crew, an old guy named Ed Williams. He is quite an intellectual and on the day I had to carry water for being argumentative I  was fortunate to be able to work along side of Williams that day in the blazing sun, twenty plus long years ago.

Williams was one of those guys who reads a lot of great books but never got anywhere in life for all his study and learning. He was however interesting to be around because no matter what happened he had an example or little story to embellish what had just really happened. For example suppose someone cut their hand open on a bottle working our trash detail team, Williams would say to me, " You know a similar thing happen to Goethe in Venice in July of 1774, or Dante cut his wrist actually when he was leaving Florence after He was ostracized, well not ostracized, more like...." You get what I mean, Williams was always living in the past and was so busy reading about other people that he seldom had time to live himself. But, if you had to pick up trash for 7 hours in the hot sun he was a good guy to work along. He gave me a bit of good advice...
end part 3

three days on a chain gang / part 2

three days on a chain gang/ part 2

fiction
edward w pritchard

It's funny how driving along old country roads can trigger memories. I just read what I wrote in part one. I wrote about Pounders and was going to tell about Byron Littlejohn. Both are dead now. It's twenty two years later than when I was on the chain gang and I am now  riding a greyhound bus down route 30 in Ohio near Louisville, Ohio where I served time on the highway detail with Deputy Watkins, who I still think of as coach. Coach passed on about 18 years ago; I used to work for him some after meeting him on the chain gang. After he retired as a deputy sheriff Coach Watkins  would drive one of those police cars that followed over sized load vehicles on country roads. He paid me $50 a day to ride with him and talk a few years after I was on the "chain gang". I know it's hard to follow when the narrator jumps from past to present like that but as I ride along here on route 30 my mind is racing from the scenery, which is beautiful; it always reminds me of being back in the 19th century, at least as I suppose it was, to be far out in the country in Ohio on back roads when Ohio was a rural area. Ohio is so nowhere now, but to me Ohio is now normal in a kind of quaint way. Anyway if I make an anachronism or two please forgive me, my mind is racing. I have had a lot on my mind that I will tell you about later, after I tell about Byron Littlejohn when he spent his first day picking up trash and litter on the chain gang.

Byron was a big black guy the kind of guy that was an old fashioned Black person, more like the kind we used to call colored back in the 1950's here in the mid west. Sadly Byron lived in the 1980',s that's when I was on the chain gang, and Byron got in trouble a lot because of how everyone treated him. Deputy Watkins wasn't everyone as far as I ever saw and he treated everyone straight, if you were decent he liked you, if you weren't watch out especially if he was on duty, in his official capacity. Immediately Coach Watkins stuck up for Byron and gave him a lot of leniency in how he treated him, rather than treating him as a prisoner or convict, which we were technically; Coach treated Byron as a friend.

We were in a kind of tough area of Canton. Ha tough, that's what the other guys on our team said. Me I am from Cleveland, Hough actually,  now that's tough. Byron got forced into helping this Black weight lifter who was lifting at a bench on his grand mother's porch. We were picking up papers and trash out along the street and the guy, a teenager but very big and strong called for one of us to spot for him. He was trying to bench 375 pounds. The porch didn't look like it would hold it. Well jumping ahead, to the end of the story about Byron, after Byron spotted the weight for this kind of smart ass type guy, Byron ended up benching 400 pounds. The weightlifter guy took offense at Byron showing him up, and was calling Byron some insulting names, the kind of names only Black people between themselves can get the innuendo of and to stop a fight between the  two Black guys Coach told the Grand Mother to handle her grandson. Just like that the fight was over. Black people then didn't like confrontations with the police. It was a lesson I wish I could have remembered myself later in my life. Byron died in a shooting about ten years ago. He was good guy but somehow couldn't avoid trouble. When I heard he had died that night I listened to some Mississippi delta blues and had some good red wine.
end part 2