Crossroads
"There is a way which seemeth right unto a man, but the end
thereof [are] the ways of death" (Proverbs 14:2).
For every attendee at the AA
meeting, every inmate in prison, every patient on the psychiatrist's couch, if
only they could have seen further down the road. Alcoholism begins with the
first drink, drug addiction from the first experiment, imprisonment from any
laps of good judgment. There are signals. There are sign posts along the slide
to Hell. In my youth, every large farm had an iron dinner bell on the outside
of the house. Of course, my parents, grandparents, most people, could look up
at the sun and tell you almost exactly, the time of day. But, on cloudy days, my
mother would go out and ring the bell, 11:45. The hired hands, and even my own
brother, unhitched mules from the plows, could be seen riding our beautiful
mules from the fields to the barn where the mules were fed a lunch (corn and
hay), loved the large tub of drinking water. Everyone in the family, even hired people, washed up (my mother had
rules at the table-clean hands and faces, no eating with shirts off, no
singing, rocketing behavior). Newspapers were put in the bottom of the chairs
so your dirty clothing would not soil her kitchen chairs. If there is any one
reason for the loss of family values, 50% divorce rate in America, the
loss of families eating together, enjoying one another's company. Most homes
have become just a "service station", a place to change clothes to go
somewhere else- a world of fast food in a car. How I would like to put my feet
under my mother's table again, have the appetite of those years, know the thrill-labor-satisfaction
of hard work. 150 million Americans live off checks from the government. 47% of
the American population receives food stamps. All those who TRUST in their
entitlements, those who have never known dirt-sweat-hard work, would get off welfare
and stay off welfare if they knew the joy of accomplishment.
This month,
some movie studio-actors-pretenders, moved out of one of my properties-a
furnished, even the utilities and linens, beach house. When my assistants
checked, they found what you see in the attached photographs. Of course
property which could be removed was stolen (shower curtains from three
bathrooms, all bedspreads, all towels, much kitchenware, decor such as
paintings, a beautiful house turned into a "slum" from exotic movie
land characters intent on partying.) Responding to an advertising search for replacement
furniture, my secretary described a house where a man was selling his possessions.
He was so drug infected-inflamed, dressed in pink pajamas, SPASTIC, almost
incoherent, sleeping on a mat on the floor, most furniture sold. You see, to
feed your habit, the last "go-round" selling anything that can be
converted to cash, cash for drugs.
Life is a
journey not a destination and for most people, a series of crossroads.
Civilization was built from crossroads. This writer has traveled every
continent in the world, every city started with crossroads, a place to buy
supplies, to get your mail. Then came to the crossroads, the school house,
church house, court house. From here, any of the four directions, another road,
to anywhere, even another crossroads. My youth, every 5-10 miles or so, a
crossroads, the beginning of a town. The crossroad was where you got the news,
where farmers visited around a potbellied stove on a rainy day. Amazing the
difference in my great grandfather's store and the more recent country store of
my cousin. Of course, city slickers who have never seen a country store would
not believe it....the limited merchandise, some canned goods, snuff-chewing
tobacco, perhaps some patented medicine.
For the
drug addict, alcoholic, melancholy, it is the end of the road. One must not
necessarily experience clinical death to be dead. Time is a necessity-invention
of man. God separated night from day but our day is divided into hours,
minutes, seconds. There are 86,400 seconds in a day. Even the Queen of England,
worth billions of dollars, can not buy one more second when it is time for her
to die. It is so important to make every second count, they go by so fast. When
you get my age, it seems that every other day is Friday. Many are not given
that many days. 245,000 people die everyday, somewhere in the world. There are
as many short graves as long graves in the graveyard. Give the best version of yourself
every second of everyday that God gives you. God is not obligated, not even to
those who are his, to warn you ahead of time. You put on your socks in the
morning, the mortician may take them off at night. Is it possible to believe
that any human being, blessed with life, would destroy his own life with drugs,
suicide? Is it possible that fellow human beings, even the mother of an unborn
child, would kill another human being? Is it possible that human nature has
become so evil, so unconcerned, that they would kill one another by artificial
instruments of war, drones, unmanned, dropping bombs out of the sky? Only the
most callous, those who have never experienced war, could have any unconcern
for the smell, cruelty of combat.
Early men
fought with their hands, then rocks, then sticks or metal, close combat, such
as that of riffles with bayonets, up close and personal, when you can see the
other man's eyes. Later, after the objectives have been softened by cannon,
grenades. Now, most deaths by IED's (improvised explosive devices). Most of the
deaths and wounds of the present 10 year war on terrorism have resulted from
such explosives. Drones equipped with IED's have killed 1,900.
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