The Wait Is Over

Even in a world where fraud, force, and coercion place lives in jeopardy every day, there are still ideals in which I firmly believe – compassion, integrity, peace. What we believe is proven by what we do, and I believe the best way to memorialize those who died for the freedoms we hold dear is by a coordinated effort to feed, house, and educate all children everywhere so that humanity might someday realize the dream for which so many have sacrificed their lives.

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For those who have sent words of encouragement, you’ll be pleased to know that I start my new job in a few days. I couldn’t be happier. It was worth the wait. The future is now.

If Memory Serves

In her haste to be of service to the world she made a great mistake. Generous to a fault, in the end, fault was all that remained. She lacked the moral vocabulary to sustain her good intentions. A petulant moment often snowballed into an avalanche of despair. A soul can only claw its way back from hell so many times.

She was such a soul.

Her loves disintegrated under the weight of her passion. Her hope suffered from neglect. Blessings were burdens, and burden was her constant companion year after year, birth after birth. One so wholly advantaged and yet entirely oblivious to the power she possesses cannot be entrusted to guide the lives of children. One by one she leads them into the depths of a great chasm that takes a lifetime to escape. 

Some never do.

She lived in a small town, the kind of town that doesn’t forget. A town where victories are commemorated in cornerstones along Main Street and villains appear on the front page. Fathers and mothers of scholars and scoundrels can count on the comings and goings of their progeny to be well documented by the town historian. Neither grand affair nor petty grievance escapes notice, lest the good townspeople lose sight of who did what to whom and want for something to debate during an election year. Towns like this are common. So common, in fact, that her life could have been anyone’s life. Any place on the planet.

But the world was too large. She could not be a citizen of it. There was no home beyond the boundaries of her town, no protection, no redemption. So, she occupied one place forever.

They called her Peace.

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Memorial

“High Flight”

by John Gillespie Magee, Jr.

 Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth

And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;

Sunward I’ve climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth

of sun-split clouds, — and done a hundred things

You have not dreamed of — wheeled and soared and swung

High in the sunlit silence. Hov’ring there,

I’ve chased the shouting wind along, and flung

My eager craft through footless halls of air….

Up, up the long, delirious, burning blue

I’ve topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace.

Where never lark, or ever eagle flew –

And, while with silent lifting mind I have trod

The high untrespassed sanctity of space, –

Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.