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An old man’s thoughts Something to think about As we remember those this Memorial Day There was a scurrying of feet, a flapping of wings mingled with the sounds of cluck, cluck, cluck, bock, bock, bock, bock, bock, bock, cluck, cluck, cluck, bock…. “Go away” I shouted, at the same time slide-kicking at the loose dirt on the ground. My feet knocked at the hard soil, throwing clouds of dust and dirt up in the air at the chickens that had suddenly and unexpectedly ran up and around me. “What are you doing,” I hollered, stamping my feet at the now fleeing chickens – oh, I suddenly saw the cause, a pack of chicken feed that I was carrying had sprung a leak and the grain was prematurely being scattered around the ground where I walked. It had seemed that those dumb brainless chickens had started to attack me and I had quickly looked to see if there were, but there weren’t, any baby chicks in the area. I had thought that the whole hen house must have gone crazy. Sometimes the mother hen would come after you if she thought her babies were in danger. I hadn’t noticed the leak in the sack of feed that I had been carrying. My moment of distress ceased and I considered, “oh well,” and continued scattering the required amount of grain on the ground for the chickens. I then resealed the bag and took it back to the shed from where I had come. That completed my chores for the day. I now groaned a little as I changed positions in my easy chair; these old muscles weren’t as nimble as they were back then. The event with the chickens had taken place when I was about 8 years old. While my mind still feels like that 8 year old boy, the body of this 70 year old “boy” now feels some of the miles it has accumulated. For some reason today, as I had sat down to relax and read a book, my mind wanted to wander. So, here I am sittin and a moanin and a groanin – pathetic ain’t it. That day, some 62 years ago had been a good day I remembered. On that day I had gone to school and afterward had dilly dallied around with my friends for longer than I normally did. Even in that little old, remote farm town where I grew up, strangers, vagrants if you will, would sometimes come through. They came from other parts of the nation; he or she was usually someone down on their luck, looking for respite, just trying to regain his or her senses from the trials of life. They were likened to the homeless folks of today. I didn’t understand that back then, but I do now. That day my friends and I had seen an old man, walking through our town with a cardboard sign that boldly proclaimed “The End is near.” For some reason I remember that now. My buddies and, I though not shy, were reluctant to speak to him because he appeared dirty and unshaven. In fact, his appearance caused us to feel uneasy so we had “kicked our cans” to the other side of the street and continued our play there, shouting, and playing and kicking the can off into another direction away from the man. We continued playing longer than we normally did and I was late getting home. I had to hurry to complete my chores before the sun went down. Guess that is why I didn’t notice the hole in my sack of chicken feed. Still rushing I ran into the house just in time to sit down to supper with my parents and two of my brothers and a sister. “Ah, ah, ah” exclaimed my sister, “go wash your hands” she reprimanded. Complying, then sitting back down I babbled “did you see the old man in town today.” “You mean the one with The End is near sign?” one of my brothers responded. “Ya,” I said, asking at the same time, “What does that mean?” My dad responded, “chomp, chomp, chomp” as he chewed on a piece of rabbit from the stew that was our meal that evening, “that’s good stew mother” and he then placed another spoon of stew in his mouth. “Yes” gulped my brother “good stuff mother”. “Well, guess it’s up to me” my mother said responding to my question, “that means the man thinks that the end of the world is coming….” Alarmed I butt in, “What? The end of the world is coming!” Startled at my outburst, my sister immerged from her own little high school world “Who ended, what ended,” she asked in a loud voice. “Mother said the end of the world is coming,” I said. “No, no,” my other brother entered into the conversation, “Mother said the old man with the sign thinks the end of the world is near.” “Burp, ah, er excuse me, yes sir that’s some good stew” my father repeated. I sure did remember that day, I thought as I sit here in my chair. Smiling to myself “More detail than I need, I think…” Many scholars, religious figures, fortune tellers and self proclaimed prophets have exclaimed and continue to say the end is near, or that it is coming. Nostradamus, one of the better known doomsayers even predicted that December the 21’st of last year could have been the end. The bible tells of the signs of the times that predict the closeness of the end of earth as we know it, connected with the 2nd coming of Jesus Christ. Many interpret the events happening in the world today as signs of those times. And, of course, back when I was eight years old, so many years ago, many thought they recognized those signs then as well. “The end is near!” They then and now proclaimed. Is the end near? Or will there ever be an end? I wonder. Since that time 62 some years ago I have heard men talk on street corners in various parts of the world and at various times, all proclaiming that we must be prepared, the end is near. For sure, the end is nearer for some of us than others, but, is there really an absolute end of the world where all the existing people of the earth suddenly cease to be. Or is the end they proclaim, more like the end of a world where hopes and dreams vanish. Where existence is only a matter of waking up, walking around in a daze, bewildered through the waking time, sleeping and repeating the same things day in and day out for the benefit of some who see “the others” as ones put on this earth for their pleasure and advantage. The others of us not deserving of having, our own hopes and dreams fulfilled. I wonder which of the following defines, “the end:” a. The total destruction of living and breathing animals and man on this earth or, b. The end of freedom of choice. The loss of all individual rights, for one to be able to fulfill their own dreams and ambitions and destinies. I think, one would have to come to the conclusion that either of those definitions of “the end” really is “the end.” I think one or the other just might be eminent. I really hate being pessimistic, but for my descendents sake I would much prefer ‘a’ over ‘b’ because who, other than the dictators of the world would choose ‘b’. Who or why would anyone think it worth living in a world where their whole existence is dictated by another. During my life time I have never given much thought to that old man and his sign “The End is near.” After all, should the world self destruct tomorrow there isn’t much I can do about it. But, if the definition of “The End” is ‘b’, the end of freedom of choice, the loss of all individuals’ rights to be able to fulfill their own hopes and dreams; if that is the definition of the end, then that is an end we do have a say about. After all, our ancestors or those who came before us made that decision one time, a few hundred years before and thankful we should be to them, for them changing the world back then and not letting it come to an end for our generations. On this Memorial Day we should be extremely thankful for the America our forefathers and the pilgrims chose for us, their descendents. They knew the end was near, but chose to thwart it that we might have a life free from dictatorship and rule by a government. Maybe a little extra thank you with that flower we place on the graves of those we remember would be appropriate. Maybe we should consider giving up politics as usual. Get rid of Democrats, Republicans, Communists, Socialists, etc., just reset our think button and all get on the same page, working for what’s right and discarding the wrong. Maybe we should become, or concentrate on being what we think we are - civilized human beings. Can we ever be equal to one another if a political tag is placed before our name? I think not. Those political identification tags are just as prejudicial as any racial or ethnic label out there. After all, in all the choices available in this world there are right and wrong choices available. Why do we so many times seem to choose the wrong, just to please a few? Are we not all really equal to one another with regard to our human rights? We should work as one people making a world in which we can all have a chance at fulfilling our individual hopes and dreams. Has the liberty we have chosen to give those we put in office for our needs maybe gotten to be a little too much? How many of those who represent us choose the wrong plan, just to stay in the grace of the powerful few in their party, totally ignoring what is right and their constituents. Are those who represent us maybe taking advantage of their positions and our generosity and gotten out of hand? Is this causing the end to be near? To me it feels like we are losing the way of life that our forefathers envisioned. The “sneaky smart” appear to be etching and eroding our freedoms from us, preying on the trustful and the unsuspecting. It would be nice if “The People” would wake up. Of course, we can each leave the future to the others, that is what so many of us are doing. The trusting, the lazy, the unthinking, for pittance, are giving away our world to the ones who would have the rest of us be obligated to and serve them; fulfilling the prophecy where we can say “the end is not near, it is here.” Wearily I think “Gosh, what a day, guess I’ll go read my book and leave the “End is near” thing to the others, after all, it is only my children and grandchildren’s future that is at stake. Ho hum, yawn, the way the world is now, hmmm, maybe the end really is near…zzzzzzzz.”
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