atimetoshare.me

This was written during my time off when a call for defunding the police occurred in my state.  

In a time when streets were unpaved, when men rode around on horseback rather than sitting behind the wheel, steering an obscene number of said animals, the world may have seemed quieter than.  Still without an established sheriff in town, things would quickly disintegrate.

Fights broke out on the streets for silly things like letting your cows graze on a free range. Someone shot his cousin’s pig and eventually it led to a family feud that went on for years. Prisons consisted of a one room holding cell.  The law consisted of an elected sheriff and a few trusted deputies.  With the rampant lawlessness, the town slowly died.  It became dismantled and defaced after nights of unbridled insanity.  It remained nothing but a town filled with spirits of past lives.

Only a few good men would set out to maintain law and order only to be ridiculed, emasculated and held up to criticism on both sides.  The good people of the towns blamed the law for not doing enough and the rabble rousers, said the laws were too harsh and that their motives were misunderstood.

It finally became so difficult to enforce the laws that the village turned into a ghost town, filled with tumbleweed and dusty, empty streets.  The buildings remained, but they too had suffered from the lack of the law.  People got tired of living in a community ruled by mobs and lawless gangs who thought nothing of looting and destroying other people’s property.  They packed whatever belongings they still possessed, boarded up their homes and shops and got out of Dodge.

The streets no longer held people – good or bad.  The hope of finding the American dream was swallowed up by inaction, indifference and quickly turned into a nightmare.  The outlaws moved on too.  There was nothing to take anymore.  There was no one to bully or beat up.  There were no grievances to be heard and the silence of the streets was deafening.

Many thousands of years prior to this, laws were established by the Creator of the Universe.  The stone slabs they were carved into were tossed to the ground and broken because of Moses’ anger at the people who had quickly deserted their God.  God made another set of tablets for the people. Within a few centuries those laws were all but lost and forgotten.  Lawlessness returned and hate and senseless blood stained the streets.  History tends to repeat itself in a lawless place.  Soon there will be nothing left.

Originally posted on June 12, 2014 by atimetoshare.me

My dad taught me how to tie my shoes.

He grieved with me when my box turtle fell off the ledge of our fourth floor apartment.

He came with me to the five and dime to return a trinket I had stolen and made me apologize for not paying for it.

He caught me taking one of his cigarettes – A camel without a filter.

He then taught me the proper way for a lady to hold a cigarette.

Something I didn’t need to know.  I was probably fifteen.

My dad taught me the difference between right and wrong and let me know that I would always be accountable for my actions.

When I became a teenager, he was the one who told me the facts of life.  It really made him squirm.  It made me squirm too.

He always “interviewed” my dates.  They had to pass his inspection, but their opinion of him didn’t matter.  He would be at the door to greet us when we got home.

I tried my best to live up to his expectations, but I never felt I could.

His words of praise were few and far between,

But I relished each one and held it tightly in my heart.

He worked two jobs so I could attend a private Christian high school.

He wanted so much more for my sister and me –

More than he ever had.

He must have thought we needed extra attention.

He had a beautiful tenor voice and always sang loudly in church.

His Irish heritage boomed on St. Patrick’s day as he sang “Danny Boy”

And raised another glass. He could drink more beer than the rest of them and it didn’t affect him in the least.

Time passed and I fell in love. My dad went a little crazy for a while.  He put the newspaper in the refrigerator and the bread down the clothes chute.

He became an emotional wreck.

He held my arm tightly as we walked down the aisle to meet my husband,

I could see tears glistening in his usually stoic eyes. He was so proud.

He died at sixty one – a long time smoker – he suffered with lung cancer.

He clung tightly to life – maybe feeling he wasn’t quite ready for what lay ahead.

Maybe he hadn’t yet made peace with God for his past sins.

Finally knowing that he was forgiven allowed him to give in.

It gave him comfort.

I wasn’t at his side when he passed. We were driving to be with him.

As I looked at the brilliant blue sky, a cloud appeared and took on the form of a dove. It quickly floated high above and dispersed into heaven.

It gave me comfort.

I look forward to seeing him again so I can let him know what a great impact he had on my life.

I love you, daddy. Happy Father’s Day.

A collage of various roles I’ve played over the years.