Never Forget. Never Again

Here’s a fragment of ancient writing; it was recovered from a cave in Israel:

The document is part of a treasured trove of historical and prophetic writings which is often referred to as the Prophetic works of the Bible. Long before we Christians began calling it “Bible”, Jewish readers called it Nebi’im, which means Prophets.

Pictured above is a fragment from the writings of the prophet Isaiah, who lived and wrote in Jerusalem about 2700 years ago. He prophesied, among other things, of the ordeal that Jesus endured before his death and resurrection.

This fragment is on display at the Museum of Israel in Jerusalem.

About a century later, another prophet, Ezekiel, wrote on his scrolls for posterity. His prophetic legacy, which was written while he was in exile in Babylon, consisted of writings that must have resembled the ancient Isaiah fragment pictured above.

In the portion of Ezekiel’s writing that we call chapter 37, the prophet describes a terrible vision, which he described in this way:

“The hand of the Lord was upon me, and He brought me out by the Spirit of the Lord and set me down in the middle of the valley; and it was full of bones.

He caused me to pass among them round about, and behold, there were very many on the surface of the valley; and lo, they were very dry.

He said to me, “Son of man, can these bones live?” And I answered, “Oh Lord God, You know.”

Again He said to me, “Prophecy over these bones and say to them, ‘O dry bones, hear the word of the Lord.’

“Thus says the Lord God to these bones, ‘Behold, I will cause breath to enter you, that may come to life.”

About a year ago when Pat and I were visiting Israel, we toured the Yad Vashem, Holocaust Museum, where we saw the monument pictured above. After viewing this memorial, we went inside and were guided through a tour by a very knowledgable British fellow name Harry Orenstein.

If you’re ever in Israel, you should visit the Holocaust Museum. It’s a real eyeopener for those who are attentive to the warning signs of history.

During the moment of Ezekiel’s vision of the dry bones, he receives this prophecy:

“Behold, O will take the sons of Israel from among the nations where they have gone, and I will gather them from every side and bring them into their own land; and I will make them one nation in the land, on the mountains of Israel.”

Now, regardless of how you think about God, or the prophets, or Israel, or people such as I who believe in supernatural interventions, it is an historical fact that the Jewish people were removed from their ancient homeland by the powers that be in the ancient empires of Babylon and Rome.

And it is an historical fact that: the Jewish people managed, in the middle of the 20th-century, to return in great numbers, to their ancient homeland and re-establish a nation called Israel. 

And it is an historical fact that: the very Holocaust by which Nazis sought to extinguish the Jewish people—that murderous “final solution”— ultimately became the terrible, tragic prime motivating crucible from which the Jews escaped, and mounted up the resolve to repopulate their ancient homeland.

So history indicates that the “final solution” inflicted by Nazis on Jews . . . turned out to be, instead, a final solution for the Jewish problem of securing a home in this world of sorrow and woe.

Pretty amazing, I thought. I’m hoping they can continue working it out with the Palestinians.

Several years ago, while I was researching Europe as it existed in 1937, I wrote a novel, Smoke, that weaves an historical tale around events and circumstances in Europe that preceded—and eventually led up to– that Holocaust. 

If you would like to learn more about the tragedy of Holocaust, but are unable to go to Jerusalem to see Vad Yashem, check out the U.S Holocaust Museum in Washington DC, which is a part of the story in my first novel, Glass half-Full.

Smoke

Trouble in River City

Glass half-Full is the title of my first novel, published in 2007. The story takes place in the Washington DC area.

In chapter 21, we find that two DC detectives have arrested a suspected rapist, Barney Bluntell. At police headquarters, they are questioning the suspect when they suddenly receive a lot more confession than they had thought possible.

In this scene, Barney the suspect is getting worked up as he answers a few more questions than detectives Trent and Nguyen have asked him:

“You’re damned right.” Barney was on the soap box now, showing his true colors, almost unaware of his prisoner status, lecturing the cops on what would have to be done to get society straightened out.

“And how did you know who these women are…the ones that need to be put in their place?”

“It’s the Jewish women. They started the whole thing. Now its infecting everybody. The men don’t know how to handle their women. They’ve fucked everything up. The Jews started communism. Marx and Lenin were Jews. You know that, don’t you?”

Now Nguyen thought he’d take a chance. “Is that why you bombed the Holocaust Memorial?”

Barney looked at Nguyen, surprised at the question. “That whole damned holocaust never happened. You know that don’t you? They made the whole thing up so they could get sympathy from everybody else…just like the niggers.”

“Oh yeah? What did they do?”

“They didn’t do a damn thing, except pick cotton. The Jews raised a bunch of hell until they got Lincoln and the rest of that nigger-lovin’ crowd worked up enough to fuck the whole country. It’s been a mess ever since then.”

Nguyen’s voice became calm, professorial. “The last time I checked a history book, Barney, it said that it was a bunch of Christian abolitionists who got that movement going.”

But the detective realized he was getting off track. He paused and thought for a moment. “What do you think it’s gonna take to get this country straightened out?”

“It’ll take a major rearrangement of power,” said Barney, now overconfident in his own psychopathic harangue. Having lost sight of the criminal implications of his actions, Barney was misinterpreting Nguyen’s interest in his activities. Barney was not an habitual criminal, but an idealogue who had gotten sucked into a criminal fringe of fascism.  “These days, people don’t know what real power is.”

“What is it?” Nguyen inquired, now spreading the net of inquiry over Barney’s self-laid trap of fanatical egocentrism.

“Power is whatever is taken by those who are unafraid to be strong.” Barney smiled, lost now in his own self-incriminating screed, as if he were talking to himself. “Power is what you are going to see very soon, when the obstructions to it are taken out of the way.”

“What obstructions?”

“The weak and inferior elements. They’re dragging the whole evolution of the human race down. It’s just a matter of time before power will be put back where it belongs. The Jews were the ones who fucked it up to begin with, with their worship of weakness…then the niggers, spicks. Some people were born to be slaves. What we need is a caste system. The Hindus had a few things right, but they missed it on the animals thing, and the untouchables. It’s better to just extinguish them altogether.”

Nguyen looked over at Trent, amazed at the unbridled fanaticism that had just passed from the prisoner’s lips. They were at a loss for words for a minute or more. Derrick Trent stood, stretched, began pacing around at one end of the room. Then he asked, “So that’s why you moved on the Holocaust Museum?”

“That was only a wake-up call. The next time, it’ll be much more effective.”

“Says who?” Trent shot back.

“Says me…and about 100 other people,” declared Barney, not even thinking now of the legal implications of his diatribe.

“How do you know? Were you there?”

“The fuhrer was there.”

Trent stopped his pacing, incredulous.

http://www.careyrowland.com

The Mystery of Mastery

Are you angry? Why? , , , and why is your attitude down?

If you do well, won’t your attitude be lifted?  But if you don’t do well, despair is crouching at your door.

But you must master it.

Choose discouragement, or improvement. Which will it be?

You have freedom to choose, you know.

Learn how to use that freedom. Master it.

Life brings good things to us, but life also throws some bad stuff at us along the way.

When life is a walk in the park . . . well, that’s great. Enjoy it. Make the best of it. From that favorable circumstance, move forward by taking measures to strengthen the stability that comes from that advantage.

But when the bad stuff again plops itself down in your garden path, what then? What you gonna do about it?

Don’t let it get you down. Although failure is lurking in your path, overcome it. Defeat defeat. Take mastery over discouragement.

Understand and accept that Life is going to drum up a certain amount of setbacks. Trouble comes with the territory in this life.

But you must master it.

Choose to master life; it will take awhile, maybe a whole lifetime.

We do have this choice, you know.

The ability to choose our own attitude, and thus set our own course—this is what we call freedom.

Freedom—you must master it.

We are free to choose where we go from here.

You are free to choose which way you will turn when that inevitable obstacle suddenly blocks your road to wherever it is you are going.

When the big one hits and throws you into a tailspin, will you wallow in your own discouragement?  Or will you master it?

Life itself was created for you, with this choice built into it.

But there is a good purpose for that challenge.

Having that choice is called freedom. Make use of the freedom. Master it.

Sometimes freedom is a pain in the ass, but Life would be a drag without it.

While you’re out there discovering life, you will surely run into some counter-productive influences . . . for instance, the idea of determinism.

Determinism is when some person or group wants to convince you that the obstacles in your path will surely defeat you, because the System is stacked against you.

The current strategy of the Determinism crowd says, for instance, Capitalism is against you . . . it cannot work for you.

But hey! . . . not if you master it. Take hold of any good opportunity to move forward.

Capitalism is what you—or perhaps your great great grandparents— entered into when they stepped off the boat, into America. Capitalism, with all its perils and pitfalls, is part of the territory here.

Master it.

You  can put capitalism to work for you, instead of against you.

The Determinism idea says that capitalism is nothing more than all those rich people and corporation manipulators who are perpetually stacking the deck against you.

But hey, that’s only a part of what capitalism is. Along with those unfavorable elements, capitalism includes also your freedom to choose something different, if what you presently are doing is not working for you and yours.

You must master it. That’s your end of the deal.

In America, you would do well to master capitalism. Make it work for you. Work?

Work—yes, that’s important. Capitalism doesn’t properly function without it: work.

Can’t find work?

Make your own work. Find something to do. Find something that needs to be done and do it. Present your bill to whomever is benefitted by your work. Even if you’re collecting unemployment or disability benefits or whatever, find something helpful to do. You’ll find yourself feeling better.

While the System is, yes Virginia, in some ways stacked against you, do not accept the negative assessment that there is no way around the obstacles.

Obstacles are standing outside your door. You must master them.

Obstructions are just around the bend. Master them.

If you don’t master them, who will?

Big Brother? The Fairy Queen?

Capitalism includes  your freedom to adjust your own attitude, and strategy, to get around, over or under whatever the System throws at you.

Master it. Learn when to work with it and, when to work against it.

It is true that working with the System is not always the best thing to do.

So this is also true: sometimes you will indeed have to work against the System, running against the wind, swimming against the tide.

That does not mean you allow the mob to convince you that the system is hopeless and the only way around it is to stir up trouble and destroy the System. There has, in the history of the world, always been them Powers that Be working against them that need to carve a new way out of the wilderness.

Knowing at any given time whether to work with the system or against it—this is called Wisdom.

You must master it. You must learn to use wisdom; cultivate it.

Wisdom is key to mastery in this life, but it doesn’t come easy.

Wisdom only comes through encountering both adversity and success.

So understand that adversity is part of the program for your obtaining mastery.

When you are at the crossroads of adversity and success, don’t cultivate discouragement; don’t malinger in bad attitude.

And don’t be hoodooed by  that Determinism that’s out there and wants to incite the rabble to riot. Don’t go there.

Determinism is when some person or group convinces you that the obstacles in your path will surely defeat you, because the System is stacked against you.

Determinism says the outcome of your life has already been determined by an exploitive Capitalist System.

Determinism wants to convince you that you cannot muster the power to master your own destiny.

Determinism says, for instance,  you’re not making enough money to make a living, and you never will.

It is true, yes,  that  making more money could improve your situation.

But that’s not the whole enchilada.

Master the money thing: when you get some, make it work for you; don’t fritter it away. Put your money to work. Don’t let the Determinism crowd convince you that it’s all about money. Life is not all about money.

Life is all about what you do with life.

Determinism also  says you cannot improve yourself through discipline and study, and work.

Determinism says the only way you can outwit the system is to yield to the trending decadence and anarchy that perpetually wants to destabilize you and everybody else.

But don’t let it take control of you. Take control of it.

Master it.

Master life, and you will do well.

Don’t raise cain. Instead, make yourself able.

Learn to make some sacrifices.

And thank God.

Glass half-Full

Never Again

From chapter 8 of Glass half-Full, we find Hilda, a restaurant-owner, telling some friends about an experience she had in Germany.

“Hitler and his thugs tried to take advantage of the situation; they launched a coup d’etat, called a putsch in German. But it failed, and they ended up getting arrested. The event has been named the beer hall putsch of 1923. Well, I was reading about these police officers who were killed by the Nazis that night. And I was reading in my guide book some information about the incident. I kept hearing this beautiful music, really spirited music. We walked in the direction of the music. We turned a corner…and there they were, five musicians playing five instruments: clarinet, violin, accordion, cello, a drummer. I could tell they were Jewish right away. I considered their courage: to stand there at the Odeonsplatz where the Nazis had made their first move to try and take over the world, and declare, with their music, that Jewish people, along with their music, were alive and well in the 21st century. They inspired me. We must have listened to them for an hour…the Bridge Ensemble.”

This excerpt from my 2007 novel describes an event in the life of a fictional character named Hilda. While writing the book, I chose the occurrence to make a point about what happens in the history of our human race when hate-based groups take up arms against other people.

However, the event described here, although presented as a fictional event in a story, is in reality something that actually happened.

It happened to me. I was “Hilda.” My son and I were in Munich in 2002 when the music reached my ears while I was reading a plaque about the four German policemen who had been killed during the first Nazi uprising in 1923.

It was a meaningful event in my life, so I made the experience part of a long story story that I later published in 2007. Glass half-Full is a novel about some characters in the Washington DC area; they’re pretty good people, but some bad things happen to them.

Bad things happen.

When bad things happen on a large scale, nations go to war against each other and all hell breaks loose for a while. When all hell breaks loose on a major scale–a continental level of magnitude and intensity–that is called “World War.”

We of mankind have had two of them. We hope that we never have another. Don’t we?

In both world wars, our nation, the United States of America, intervened on behalf of our Allies. In both wars, our presence and strength in the fray made a big difference, and we were victorious in both holocausts.

Holocausts is a word I use in the context of that last sentence, meaning  life sacrifices, by fire: lives being snuffed out by fire, or by other destructive means. In our post-World War II experience, the Holocaust generally refers to the mass-murder of six million Jewish Europeans under the murderous regime of the Nazis, led by the demonic Nazi dictator, Adolf Hitler.

Never again should there be a holocaust of such immensity. Our nation and our armed forces were a large part of extinguishing the fire of persecution that snuffed out the lives of millions of defenseless, innocent persons before and during the Second World War.

Now, when people refer to the proposition of making America “great again,” this is–or should be–the meaning of the phrase, Make America Great Again.

That we have been, in times past, the defender of innocent people who are being slaughtered on a massive scale by hate-filled groups, –this is what made America great during World War II. And this is what, generally, does make America great in any present or future time.

Great, yes, because we have–on a massive scale– the resources and the collective will to serve as defenders of defenseless or innocent people anywhere in the world.

Not because we appoint ourselves aggressors to impose our so-called American way of life on any other nation or people-group in this world. This is where we crossed the line, in my opinion, in Vietnam. What began as a war to defend the free people of South Vietnam against aggressive Viet Minh insurgents, degenerated instead, to become a war of aggression in which we raised a lot more hell and bloodletting than we could legitimately justify; in a quasi-primitive nation that had not yet progressed to a phase of development in which they could truly understand the difference between these two words: communism and capitalism.

And may that never happen again.

A year or two ago, I also wrote a sociological novel pertaining to our Vietnam ordeal, King of Soul.

Let us Americans never be the aggressors. We are defenders. What makes our nation great, if anything, is simply the massive scale of defense we are able to muster on behalf of free and innocent people, whether it’s in Europe, Rwanda, the Middle East, or anywhere, including at home. May our great strength never corrupt us.

We are defenders not only in the military applications. We are-and should always be–defenders of the defenseless in matters of law. We are, according to our original founding codes, advocates for justice in all of our institutions: courts of law, legislative bodies, government agencies, immigration agencies, overseas aid, and administrative law from welfare to wall street. That is what makes America great.

May we never stray from the preservation and extension of truth, justice, and yes, the American way.

And may we always be defenders of same.

Glass half-Full

Symbols that Unite or Divide

Here’s a timely excerpt from Glass half-Full, the novel I wrote in 2007:

Marcus opened a can of turpentine. He tipped it slightly so that its upper contents would spill onto a rag that lay on the parking lot next to his car. With the rag partially soaked, he began rubbing on the driver’s-side door. Someone had painted a black swastika on it while he was working late. His cell phone rang.

He opened it, looked at the mini-screen, saw “Grille,” which stood for Jesse James Gang Grille. In the last few days, however, whenever he would see “Grille” displayed as the caller ID, it registered in his mind as “Girl,” meaning Bridget, because she would often call from there.

“Hi.”

“Marcus, have you heard about the explosion?”

“No, where?”

“At the Belmont Hotel, about 20 minutes ago.”

The Belmont was just two blocks from the restaurant.

“That’s where the FEF convention is. Aleph told me he would be going there tonight. Has anybody been down there to see what’s happening?”

“Kaneesha left here right after we heard it, but she hasn’t returned. I don’t think anybody’s getting in there for awhile. The police have got the whole block barricaded.”

“I want to find out if anything has happened to Aleph. Don’t you think he would have left there by now?

“The TV News says the police aren’t letting anyone in or out except rescue workers.”

“I’m headed over there in a few minutes, as soon as I get the car-door cleaned up. Someone painted a swastika on it.”

Glass half-Full

A Scene at the Lincoln Memorial

Yesterday we drove up from Charlotte to Washington. After checking into the hotel, we had dinner in the room, then launched out for a nocturnal walk to the National Mall and Lincoln Memorial. By ‘n by, being doused by a rainstorm we found ourselves taking cover  under this unfamiliar rotunda which turned out to be something called the D.C. War Memorial. I snapped this pic:

which turned out to be a much clearer photograph than the one I attempted a few minutes later in the drizzling D.C. night at the Korean War Memorial:

This very dark image of ghostly soldier statues seems to reflect a dim commemoration of a war that was taking place on the other side of the world about the time I entered this world in 1951.

My photographic success brightened considerably when, a few tromping minutes later, we arrived at the Lincoln Memorial and caught this view in the dripping night.

This luminescent sight reminded me of our arrival in Greece a few months ago when, having just stepped out of an Athens Metro station we caught a similarly eerie first sighting of the distant Acropolis, which seemed to hover at the apex of an ancient high-ground hallowed spot.

But that was then, and this was now, which is to say, last night:

We ascended the glistening steps of the Lincoln Memorial, and when we got up there this is what we saw:

Then, wandering over to the glyphed wall-inscription of our war-striven President’s message at Gettysburg battlefield. I was reminded of a scene from my 2007 novel, Glass half-Full. In chapter 6 of that book, we find Marcus and Bridget, a young couple who have recently met, gazing at the inscribed words of the President’s famous speech. Here’s the scene:

They came to an inner sanctum. Carved on the white marble wall in front of them were the words of the slain President’s Gettysburg address. Marcus stopped, taking in the enormity of it, both physically and philosophically. He was looking at the speech intently. Bridget was looking at him.

After a few moments: “Isn’t that amazing?”

“Yes.” She could see that he was thinking hard about something. The great chamber echoed a murmur of humankind.

“Supreme irony.” The longing of a nation’s soul reverberated through the memorial. . .in the soundings of children, the whisperings of passersby. Deep within Marcus’ soul, something sacred was stirring, and she could see it coming forth.

“The world will little note, nor long remember, what we say here, but can never forget what they did here.” He was reading aloud Lincoln’s words on the white wall.

But for the echoes of a million people who had passed through this place, there was silence. After a moment, Bridget responded “. . .and yet, there it is, carved on the wall for all to see. ‘The world will little note what we say here. . .’ ”

“Right, Bridget. Isn’t it amazing?”

Glass half-Full