Showing posts with label 1 - Short Story. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 1 - Short Story. Show all posts

The History of Laman, fiction


[The following was translated from the writings found on three small metal plates on an island near the Philippines, in the tomb of an ancient leader, and were written down as a copy from ancient scrolls which arrived on the island at about the year 630. There being no archeological signs of the scrolls, so it appears they have been destroyed. These plates were translated using the ancient language of the natives as best as possible. --These things done by the Spanish Company of His Catholic Majesty Ferdinand VI, King of Spain, in the year of our Lord 1751]

I Jerom have found these scrolls of curious workmanship, and having been taught in the language of the ancients, have translated them into our native tongue, and have inscribed them onto these metal tablets. I believe these to be the writings of some ancient traveler, but of what land I do not know. He speaks of the Holy City and of an ancient prophet named Moseh, which I have translated into Jerusalem and Moses. The other unfamiliar names and locations I have transcribed using the same characters and forms the original writer used, and I pray that the Gods may find a way to translate those also, for there is wisdom in his words.


I am Laman, the firstborn of Lehi at Jerusalem, and have known the dealings of the Lord God all the days of my life.

Having confronted the confusion and temptations that easily beset man, I write these words and have commanded that they be preserved, that my descendants may know of the struggle and grief caused by pride and discontent;

And that they may know they are not cut off from the presence of the Lord God, that they are of the house of Israel, that His arms are ever stretched out towards them.



~1



All my days since my youth have I labored to protect and preserve my kin from the wiles of the evil one, and just as our first parents were deceived into partaking of the forbidden fruit I fear at times that my beloved ones have been faced with the trickery and temptations of the evil one.

Yea, I know that I myself have been tempted by the evil one.

Being separated from the holy house of the Lord God and from His anointed servants, my posterity is cut off from the House of God, but daily I pray for the Mercy of God that they are not cut off from His presence forever, that perhaps he will send one anointed to deliver them from their banishment.

Having lived at Jerusalem in my youth, and having much interest in the ways of the Lord God, although not a Levite by birth or able to hope to exercise temple service for the Lord God, or not a youth privy to any elevated expectations of a grand station in life, I still found great comfort in listening to the great prophets and rabbi in the synagogues and those great teachers found in the stately homes of the very wealthy and blessed.

Who now will make for us a holy sacrifice? What priest or Levite is there among us?

I say there are none! And we perish with our sins! blemished since our exodus from the Promised Land, that holy city of the Lord God.

We are banished from that holy temple, where the Lord God resides, for was it not our teacher Habakkuk who taught us great things, saying,

What profiteth the graven image that the maker thereof hath graven it; the molten image, and a teacher of lies, that the maker of his work trusteth therein, to make dumb idols?

Woe unto him that saith to the wood, Awake; to the dumb stone, Arise, it shall teach!

Behold, it is laid over with gold and silver, and there is no breath at all in the midst of it.

But the Lord is in His holy temple: let all the earth keep silence before him.

These things did Habakkuk teach us, yea that the Lord God is in His temple, yea and I have heard the prophet teach while in my youth, while listening in the courtyard of the temple at Jerusalem.

And who can say but that these things are not true?

Habakkuk taught against those idolatrous ways of Hezekiah, who defiled the temple with his power of throne. And Manassah and Amon did not enough to purge the temple of his idolatry. Yet, the Lord God will preserve His people, and will restore His temple yet.

I mourn, for in those days as a child in Jerusalem we celebrated the presence of the Lord God with grand feasts that overtook in excitement that holy city, to worship the Lord God on the Day of Atonement, and the Feast of the Tabernacles, and the Feast of the Passover.

For was it not the Feast of the Passover which celebrates the deliverance of the house of Israel from the destroying angel?

Yea, indeed this was our very celebration, and we are of house of Israel, delivered from the land of Egypt, and brought to the Promised Land by the Lord God’s anointed, having been given to us the promised bounties of milk and honey and comforts.

And yet, I live in another land as I lay dying, a land excluded into the corner of the world, far across the great seas, far from that land which was promised to our ancient fathers of Israel.

This new land awaits my death, with long green fingers ready to receive my ancient body.



~2



Yea, my father Lehi fled from Jerusalem for fear of his life, and now I fear for our souls, all of us here on this strange land, both my children and the children of my brethren who have fled from us even as my father Lehi fled from Jerusalem.

I speak more of those things practiced by the those at Jerusalem, for they truly practiced atonement at the temple on behalf of the house of Israel, for the house of Israel is fallen and wicked, and has been forever, just as all mankind have fallen since our first father Adam. And at times their kingdom was corrupt, but not too far stretched from the reconciliation of the Lord God, for His arms are great enough to gather in all.

Yea, the Lord God prepared a way for the absolution of their guilt, and such was made effective in the House of the Lord God. For did not the ancient prophet teach, who was Moses, that on the Day of Atonement the priest should sanctify himself and offer up a blood sacrifice for the sins of the people? Yea, Moses and others have always taught thus.

O, that the Lord God will hear the pains of my heart, and apply that sacrifice, which is being made among the house of Israel, to these my children and their children as long as they live here, cast off unjustly from the protection of performances and ordinances of the holy prophets!

My father Lehi was a visionary man, and had dreams which said he knew to be from God.

As now I am grown and old, I know that dreams are had by more men than just prophets, and dreams can lead a fearful man to flee his homeland and abandon the protection of the ordinances of the temple.

Although I was a boy when we fled the walls of Jerusalem, only in my eighteenth year, I counseled with my father, as much as he would allow, to pay his debt to the tributaries to preserve our standing in the Holy City, but said that I was a hardhearted man and to observe the commandments of the Lord God, as my younger brothers have done.

These words humbled me, for I am commanded to honor my father and mother, and I wish not defile myself by rising up against my father,

Yet this thing he did to flee the collectors and exile himself to the wilderness cannot be the commandments of the Lord God, for the priests teach the commandments, and I do not know what my father meant. So, I traveled with him into our own exile.



~3



My father Lehi, who has long been buried in the earth, it being sixty and two years since arriving in this new land, and nearly seventy years since I last laid eyes on the temple of God in the Holy City, my father was a man of busy trade.

While much of the trade which occurred at Jerusalem was done within the city walls, and it was required that the traders pay tribute to the rulers in Egypt, those who traded and performed works outside of the city were not often watched, as to whether they should pay tribute or not.

My father was an ambitious man, and a leader unto himself, and was very successful in gaining and maintaining the finer things Jerusalem could offer.

Through his trades with the distant villages scattered far and around, he had teams of workers who supplied the city with a variety of goods.

I remember how merciful the Lord God had been in my early years, for we never knew hunger and my parents were happy towards one another and towards my brothers and sisters.

I, too, was ambitious, like my father Lehi, and was willing to receive the inheritance of one who has the birthright, and was well learned in the art of trade and the business of persuasion,

And I was glad to take the responsibility of the firstborn to care for my mother after my father’s death, and for my two sisters who have a condition which made it impossible for them to find a man to care for them or to give unto them children or place to live.

O my sisters! Has my brother Nephi cared for you? Has he loved you as your mother and father loved you? Has he built homes and beds for you to live in and stoves to cook your bread?

Or has he taken the means for these things to build up a temple unto himself, which he has no right to build up? A temple which he compares to that which was in the Holy City?

I wish with my heart that I could care for you, or at least look into your eyes and embrace you with my arms before I die, to know that you are alive and happy, for now my family and those who are with me are somewhat more established and are now more comfortable than before.



~4



In the days of my youth, Babylon conquered the land of Egypt, and Jehoiakim King of Judah wisely began paying tribute to Nebuchadnezzar.

King Nebuchadnezzar was more powerful than Egypt in might of men, and had many eyes to watch the trade routes, making difficult the free passage of my father’s caravans.

My father Lehi feared the collectors. Although I was very young at the time, I recall clearly his distrust of the Babylonian guards and how they are responsible for always having to give a portion of his goods to pay tribute.

My father wished to liberate Israel from the burden of outside government, and taught that it was an insult to the liberties of the children of the Lord God, for are we not created in His image? He taught that a man’s property belonged to the Lord God, and not to the wicked Babylonian rulers.

His teachings were popular among a few successful traders, and were not wise words to be spoken in public, for the Babylonians were ever more present as time passed.

The wicked oppression, taught my father, was not to be endured by the jealousy of the powerful Lord God, and that the Lord God would prepare a way for His children to escape the oppression.

Yet, the wickedness of Judah, and of the house of Israel, was had in the hearts of the children of Israel, as it always has been, and I fear as it always will be, and without the atonement through the Lord God’s house will certainly be always in their hearts,

For the house of Israel loved the things of the world, and the things introduced to them by the people of Babylon. And although their hearts are corrupt, I know in my heart I too am corrupt, and wait for the Day of Atonement, and would rather be living among them now than to be cast out on this strange green land.

It was upon these things, the wickedness of the house of Judah, which occupied my mind as I spoke for the last time with my fellow outcast Ezekiel, who was born into the lineage of the priesthood, but because of his much fainting and open heart was not yet treated by the great leaders of Israel with much respect.

With Ezekiel I pondered the meaning of these things and was stopped, and fell to the ground.

Upon he raised himself up again, he spoke of the imminent destruction of the temple if the hearts of Israel did not repent.

These things he had often told me during our many times together, and taught me as if one having authority, but never as one having had a vision. I sat with him while giving him wine, and we pondered these things and what they could mean.

On this day we learned Jehoiakim King of Judah—who was the brother of the former King Jehoahaz—died, and after Jehoiakim ruled, his young son Jehoiachin ruled.

These changes of rulership began the period of great unrest among the leaders and prestigious people of Jerusalem, for Jehoiakim ruled with steadiness which made possible trade and industry. My father, being one of the many respected men in Jerusalem, was in the presence of the King Jehoiakim, and thought he was found in favor with the King.

My father was afterwards unsure of his standing with the new king, who was but a lad, no older than me, Laman. Nebuchadnezzar dethroned the young king after a very short while, and put the young king’s uncle Zedekiah as the King of Judah.

And so it passed that during this period of great unrest in Jerusalem, a great many of the city were exiled to Babylon, and those who were taken captive were many of the great leaders and thinkers and traders, including my fellow Ezekiel.

While celebrating at the house of Ishmael, who was a trusted friend and partner in trade with my father, my father retreated himself from the celebrations and did not return for some time. When he returned, he said nothing of his absence. Soon after, while resting on one of Ishmael’s beds, he dreamed a dream of a great land of wealth and prosperity, free from fear and void of oppressive and wicked governments.

His dream, I remember the excitement in his eyes as he retold the dream to Ishmael, Ishmael’s oldest son, and me, was that there is a place we must travel to, and we must go immediately, for our lives depended on it. I then told the men of Ezekiel’s vision earlier that same year, that he saw Jerusalem to be destroyed, which my father immediately embraced and retold although it concerned my father greatly, his having great respect for Ezekiel’s household and the Zadok priesthood family.

On this day our thoughts turned to the household of Zadok, and Ezekiel, who were all taken captive into Babylon.

I now know I will never see Ezekiel again in this life, my dear fellow, who was unjustly taken from his homeland.

O, that the Lord God will have mercy on those of the House of Israel! And restore them to their lands! For I fear Babylon has overtaken them, whether by force or by corruption. O, I would that Ezekiel could return to labor in the holy temple of God, and perform the sacrifice to cleanse my brethren and I from our sins!

Apart from my telling of Ezekiel’s vision and of my father’s own vision, I know not what trouble my father Lehi encountered, or for what reason he feared for his life, for that day of his vision was our last day in Jerusalem.

Ever after my father taught us that it was the will of the Lord God that we depart before the destruction of Jerusalem, yet I remember it was his own destruction from which we fled.

For once and twice he sent us, his sons, back to the Holy City with no fear for our lives or fear of us being captured by Babylon, only a strict charge not to be discovered and not to be followed, for there would be some who seek to destroy him.

Once we went back to collect the recorded history and scripture, and twice to escort Ishmael and his family, for they were to leave in secret and did not want others to suspect he traveled together with Lehi.

Our first return to Jerusalem was not blessed by the mercy of the Lord God, and I believe was the beginning of the spiritual destruction of my brother Nephi.

And so it passed we first went to the house of Laban to buy the history, but Laban refused to sell to the household of Lehi, having heard discrediting things very recently about dealings of which I’m unaware. I assured him we could pay in advance.

Our urgency heightened the curiosity of Laban, such that he inquired after the reasons for wanting to obtain the scripture, after which Nephi declared that the Lord God has commanded Lehi to obtain them.

Being in his thirteenth year, Nephi’s words were not well received, for he was not yet recognized in public as a man who should speak freely, although he was large in stature for his age, larger than other boys, and many men also.

Nevertheless, Laban agreed to make dealings with us if we brought the money. We immediately returned to the house of my father to collect any leftover treasure, and made haste, for the Sabbath was nearly upon us.

This time I ensured Nephi and Sam stay outside, for his words I felt I could not control in the presence of Laban.

In our haste we failed to be cautious, and Laban took all of the money with no promise of giving us the record. We stood to leave peacefully, having no defense against such a man as Laban, being only young men ourselves with no position of authority.

Before we could depart from the room, Nephi and Sam entered, Nephi having convinced Sam that they needed to be present. Upon learning Laban’s plan, Nephi spoke words again freely and cited their verbal agreement.

I restrained Nephi, being much larger and stronger, and carried him from the room. Before we could depart from the house of Laban we were stopped by Laban, who spoke harsh words against Nephi, and struck him with the palms of his hands until Nephi fell to the ground.

And so it passed we did flee from Laban as quickly as we could, for we feared for our lives.

Not feeling safe in our father’s house, we retreated to Ishmael’s house, knowing he alone would understand the reasons for our plight.

During the night of the Sabbath, Nephi went back to Laban’s house and entered in by another way. Finding Laban asleep, Nephi did slay Laban with his own sword, and took upon himself the clothing of Laban, and appeared at the place where the records were kept,

And Nephi took the records, but not without arousing the curiosity of a servant named Zoram, who followed after Nephi being suspicious of Laban’s doings, or who he thought to be Laban.

Shortly before arriving at the house of Ishmael, Nephi discovered he was being followed, and made contact with Zoram, who because of walking behind Nephi as was custom, still did not know whether he be Laban or whether he be someone else.

Zoram offered his services so that Laban could continue worshipping on the Sabbath with the elders, as was Laban’s custom.

Fearful of being discovered, Nephi only commanded that Zoram follow him, for Nephi hoped to have the assistance of us, his brethren, to handle Zoram.

Upon arriving at the house of Ishmael, some person inside the house saw both Nephi and the servant Zoram and began to cry unto the household to take flight, fearing it was Laban, come to take our lives with the power of his mighty men.

Nephi cried out to calm the household, but Zoram discovered his mistake and began to leave quickly, but Nephi restrained him and commanded he should remain.

I urged Nephi to let the servant go, not knowing at the time the actions of Nephi and his slaying of Laban, so Nephi took Zoram with force into the house of Ishmael and bound him and stopped his mouth from much yelling, and declared to us, saying, Let me tell you of my actions, and then you will know why the Lord God commands that this man be bound to us.

Words cannot express my horror upon learning of Nephi’s actions, for he told us children of Lehi secretly. And I beat Nephi with a rod, with great force, and with great rage.

A large man who travels with Ishmael to bear loads and load cargo heard the struggling, and stepped in between Nephi and I, asking, why persecute you your brother when he has not his father to protect him? Niether has he a brother to defend him. Surely he has not done such great evil to deserve this treatment!

I could not speak, for I feared to even recount to this man what evil he has done. If I tell, then I fear the man would take up the rod, and lean up my brother until his death, so I held my tongue.

Yet Ishmael demanded to know what great things had transpired, and why this poor servant is to remain bound under his own roof.

Upon telling Ishmael the things, it was decided that the only course of action was take Zoram to the wilderness to dwell with our father Lehi.

If we allow the servant to go free, Laban’s death would be immediately made known, and Ishmael and his family would have to depart that very night. But the time had not arrived for the departure of Ishmael, so it was discussed that perhaps the life of Zoram be taken to spare the lives of many.

At these words I said that the Lord God would destroy us all if we kill yet another man, saying, for did not the Lord God give Moses commandments upon the Mount Sinai?

Yea, did not the Lord God say Thou shalt not kill, and yet has not Nephi killed Laban?

And did not the Lord God command us, Thou shalt honor the Sabbath day, to keep it holy, and yet has not Nephi done these things on the Lord’s day?

And did not the Lord God say, Thou shalt not steal? Yet Nephi has stolen these brass plates, and the clothing of Laban, and the sword of Laban, and the life of Laban, and the life of this, Laban’s servant.

And also did the Lord God command Moses saying, Thou shalt not bear false witness. And Nephi has made himself to be Laban, and has brought this man into this house on false grounds.

And the Lord God has commanded, Thou shalt not covet. And has not Nephi shown his coveting of these plates of metal? And now we must take this metal outside the city walls when it would have been more expedient to take with us the scrolls. And has not Nephi coveted the scrolls as well, to entice him to break into the storage house of Laban without key or right of entry?

And has not Nephi begun to follow after the strange God of his own making, ignoring the priesthood and following after the commandments of my father who has not the right to say, Thus sayeth the Lord? And yet the Lord first spoke to Moses saying, Thou shalt have no other gods before me!

In all these things did Nephi trample the name of the Lord God on this His night of the Sabbath, and we shall be cursed forever to the death for our disobedience!

These things did I speak to my brethren and unto Ishmael. And so it was decided that we take Zoram into the wilderness. And I have learned that I and my children have been cursed, and all of us cut off from the presence of the Lord God, and the House of the Lord God, beginning on this great day of disobedience.

And we took our things, and our prisoner, and left Jerusalem, and I felt as our first father felt as he was cast out from the Garden of Eden, fallen and cursed forever.

O Lord God, have mercy on us, the disobedient of thy children! And curse us not as Thou hast cursed Cain, the first murderer!



~5



Having fled from the city with out lives, but having no destination, we wandered in the wilderness with our father Lehi.

Our younger brother Nephi began teaching us that the Lord God has spoken to him, saying that his obedience before the Lord God is such that he is to be our ruler and leader.

My concerns for the souls of my family grew when I watch our father Lehi build an altar and offer sacrifices, in a like manner as the priests at the temple.

I knew not what to do, but was given a blessing by my father, who said that my righteousness is like the constant flowing of a great river, flowing into a sea of righteousness, and bestowed the family’s birthright upon me.

My father Lehi, being an old man, also gave me charge to take up these responsibilities immediately.

Henceforth I was responsible for the gathering of food, the assignment of labors, the protection of the family from highway thieves and the discovery from the soldiers of Nebuchadnezzar, or from any known acquaintance from Jerusalem.

His last instructions were to escort Ishmael and his family to where my father had set camp in the wilderness, which we performed with no threat of capture or discovery.

On our return, Nephi began speaking again of his divine authority given him from the Lord God to be our ruler. This he said because we had discussed with Ishmael how we could possibly find a way to return to Jerusalem, and Nephi commanded that we should cease this talk.

All things would allow us to return to Jerusalem, however Ishmael, knowing the troubles in which my father was bound, said a return would be dangerous, and that Lehi would not survive.

I offered that we find a nearby town in which Lehi could settle, and we could run his business and provide for him until his troubles had passed.

Nephi asked, But what of Zoram, the servant who now resides in our father’s tent? Will he not condemn us?

In my wrath I bound Nephi and left him to fend for himself in the wilderness. It was not my place to judge Nephi’s wickedness and to condemn him to exile, but I felt his actions have condemned us all, including Zoram, and we no longer can live with him.

Soon I repented of my rash behavior, and Nephi escaped from the bounds and spoke unpleasant words to us about his power over us and over the bindings of the evil one.

I decided to allow Nephi follow us back to the tent of our father Lehi, for he was my brother, and despite his actions which were worthy of a timely death, I had mercy on him, and wished that the Lord God would also have mercy on him, and preserve him forever.

I also thought of how Nephi was too young to care for himself, and that exile might mean lead to his death, for he relied on the guidance of his elders to feed him and protect him, and perhaps one day he will correct the notions of his mind, which trouble him and make him feel like the great prophet Jeremiah, or Moses himself.

We arrived all of us at the tent of Lehi.



~6



My father and his companion Ishmael still provided the ultimate guidance to our direction and purpose, else my first task as holder of the birthright with aged parents would be a retreat to Egypt.

Lehi and Ishmael felt guided by the Lord God, and commanded that we begin to travel by the direction they receive from the Liahona.

Now this Liahona was a small jeweled ball provided by Ishmael, who claimed the ball contained seer stones used by the ancient Jacob, and would show us the way to travel. Soon, it was commanded that we should travel to the promised land.

My heart leapt within my chest, for I thought perhaps Lehi and Ishmael had decided to return to Jerusalem.

But they instead spoke of another land far away, their own promised land, and that they were like Moses, who after slaying the guard of Pharaoh, fled into the wilderness towards the Promised Land. Upon learning this, I abandoned all hope of returning to our homeland.

I was led to ask, what had become of my parents? What brought them to these beliefs, and what possessed them to act upon them as if they were speaking with the Lord God? I feared the evil one had taken place in their hearts to bring about our entire destruction.



~7



A daughter of Ishmael named Rachel became my wife while we were traveling through the wilderness.

My love for my wife has grown ever stronger, and we are bound together.

And so it passed that in our first year of marriage, she gave birth to a son in the wilderness. His heart was still two days after birth, and with sharp stones I dug for him a small grave.

While digging, Nephi told me that he had broken my father’s steel bow, which was the final means for our hunting.

I was wroth with Nephi, for it was my duty as the eldest to hunt for the family, and it was his duty to prepare seeds and herbs, and gather fuel to burn. And as my wife lay in the pains which follow childbirth, and while my hands were bleeding from digging my son’s grave, I spake unto Rachel telling her that there would be no more meat.

My father had two more sons while traveling out of Jerusalem, Jacob and Joseph.

We were very glad for a short time when Nephi returned with some meat which he had obtained by using a bow of his own making, for we began to suffer and starve.

Instead of preparing seeds and herbs and fuel to burn, he brought meat, which we were hungry enough to eat without cooking it.

And so it passed that from that time we ate our meat many times without means to cook it, and Nephi and Sam spent little effort in gathering seeds and fuel to burn, which increased our anger with him.

Would that I should have been kinder to Nephi during these years, for his heart is proud and his mind determined such that perhaps I could have won his favor with love, although he does not return to me the same love.



~8



I am continually troubled by what great ills my wives and children have endured at the hands of my younger brethren.

I feel his sins of slaying Laban are meant to follow my posterity, for there is wisdom in the ways of the Lord God when I don’t know his ways. Yet it was Nephi who abandoned us while in this strange new land and his curse stays with us.

Would that I should have stopped Nephi, and known of his intentions. For we could have returned to Jerusalem, but Zoram was taken with us against his will and knew of the fate of Laban at the hands of Nephi, and we were to decide: either we slay him also or we abandon our home forever.

O, Lord God, I pray to have the forgiveness in my heart such that I do not have ill thoughts towards my brethren! They are flesh of my flesh, and I am their keeper as their elder brother and the carrier of my father’s birthright, and yet they have abandoned us!



~9



And so it passed that my father was much afflicted living in the wilderness, and my mother also, having given birth to twins at her old age.

We settled for a time in a land of plenty, which we called Bountiful. Here, we lived as free men, and our families grew strong and yet remained humble before the Lord God and longed for His protection.

I thought for a time that we were blessed of the Lord God and that His mercy was being extended unto us, despite our actions in Jerusalem.

During this time of plenty my father Lehi became determined to continue traveling towards the promised mind, which he and Ishmael had spoken so much of, that he had kept in his mind.

When he spoke unto me, I looked around and said, is this not a great blessing to have this land? Where would you have us go, now that we are at the land’s end?

He looked towards the sea, and said we must continue on, and if the Lord God willed it, He would open the sea and we would walk through on dry ground.

And so it passed that we were safe for years, because the sea never opened, although Nephi would often stand at the water’s edge with a wooden staff and wait for the sea to part.

Finally Nephi executed the commands of my father by beginning to build a ship, a project on which I refused to offer my help.

Nephi was angry with me and called me a slothful and faithless man, and stretched out his arms to move our hearts in the same way he willed to part the sea, and I and my brethren were so shocked by his behavior that we could not speak nor find words to express our baffled minds concerning the deranged behavior of our younger brother.

After many months of observing Nephi’s determination to sail into the sea with my parents on a poorly constructed ship, I convinced my brethren to assist Nephi, for some of Ishmael’s sons had spent time trading near the sea and had known of the basic forms and materials of sea vessels.

And so it passed that the ship was built up again from scratch using some of the materials Nephi had collected, but mostly Nephi was not allowed to assist, although he believed we worked for him, and we were agreeable.

And I knew there would be only one way to spare the life of my parents and much of my kindred, which was to build a worthy vessel, and to ensure it is directed neither by my father nor by my younger brethren, and circle about and land again near this place, and convince my father Lehi that we had arrived.

And so it passed that my intentions were not fulfilled, for a great storm arose and we nearly sank to the depths of the sea, and would have perished if we had not tied Nephi to the mast and taken over the commanding of the ship,

For Nephi insisted that we give heed to the small jeweled ball given to us by Ishmael that when the winds blew and the strong waves beat upon us, our ship was at the side of the wind and our sails were hoisted,

And if we had not at that time steered our ship to face the wind, and lower our sails, which we did, we would have capsized, and nearly did three times before we could steer the ship correctly.

As had become custom, Nephi blamed the storms on my wickedness, saying, You are a wicked man and we nearly perished by the anger of a just God because you have bound me, and yet I should be a ruler over you to show you which way to sail the ship.

I felt we were never far from land, and allowed this to continue for many weeks, until it was determined that we were lost at sea, and did no longer have a view of a shoreline.

We were fortunate that Nephi and my father Lehi had prepared for a very long journey, for we did not starve, but we nearly did, and subsisted on seeds and dried fruits.

And so it passed that we landed on what we were told to be a large island. Here we stayed for many months until the local people demanded that we leave. We did not understand their language, but they were kind enough to allow us to trade for some more supplies.

Upon this leg of our journey, we were again blessed of the Lord God in His infinite mercy to have a man who we call Nadjie join us who taught us many things about sailing. We landed many more times, and Nadjie showed us how to collect many items which loaded our ship with provisions.

Nadjie and his family slowly learned some of the language of my fathers, and we learned some of the language of his fathers, and he told us many things which were delightful to hear and mysterious.

And so it passed that Nadjie and his family became the primary leaders of our vessel, and did many repairs and constructed many fascinating tools upon our ship.



~10



First sailing south, and then around a cape, and then north again, while at times landing when Nadjie instructed, we met with many strange peoples and inhabitants.

From Nadjie we learned to hunt the elephant, and to avoid death from the claws of the large cats.

Landing in one strange place we were welcomed by the local inhabitants although we could scarcely communicate with them.

Here we stayed for many months, gathering food and taking respite from the sea.

Much building and repair and maintenance and cleaning and sewing clothing and making new clothing was done while in this place they called Naziba. Here, we also found employment working in the fields, hunting, and building vessels.

Upon the sea in the vessel we obtained, through trade of the old vessel which we constructed and by the labor of our company among the peoples of the strange lands which we visited, and due to the many landings in strange lands, many of our company became ill with strange and various ailments.

Nadjie was able to guide us back to health concerning some of the ailments, but some were horrible and unfamiliar to him also.

During this time, Rachel my dear wife, the daughter of Ishmael, contracted a strange disease which caused her much suffering, and being great with child, the sickness overcame her and her unborn child, and she died.

Being far from land at her passing, we could only bury her at sea, which has forever left my heart broken, for she was kind and intelligent and strong, and would have made a wonderful mother to my children, if the Lord God had granter her that duty.

But so it passed that she did not bear any children that survived, and she suffered much in her life, which was too short.

She had been my wife for the length of six years, from the times shortly after our fleeing of Jerusalem, until we set off to cross the great sea.

We had set off to cross the great sea two weeks before learning of Rachel’s grave illness, and I did plead with my father Lehi to return to the land where we last set off, so find a cure for the illness, Nadjie saying there may be an herb or remedy among that tribe of savages.

Yet it was decided, with the persuasions of some of my younger brethren, that to lose four weeks of travel and another two weeks to resupply the ship with dried meat and seeds was to be a great burden, and that Rachel’s life was in the hands of the Lord God.

And yet I did plea again and again to Nephi, that he might soften the heart of my father, due to the great influence that Nephi had over my father.

Nephi said unto me that what the Lord God commanded must be fulfilled, and that he would not appeal to our father, and would not consider it or listen to my pleas any longer, and that at times hardheartedness and stiffneckedness is oft returned upon the heads of the children of men in just ways.

Thinking that he must be speaking of my own hardheartedness, or that he perhaps spoke of that of my wife while she was yet still on her deathbed, which stiffneckedness or hardheartedness could not be truly spoken of Rachel, for she was as like unto an angel from heaven, I was wroth in my anger and beat Nephi nigh unto death.

It was many weeks after Rachel’s death until Nephi was healed from the injuries at my hand. And yet he recovered, and my wife did not, and it must needs be that my wickedness should be to blame, for I know of no other justification for her to be taken from me.

Nadjie also had with him his two wives at the beginning of this long journey, and both were overcome with starvation that they died before landing in this land, one dying four days before landing, and the other twenty-six days before landing.

His heart sorrowed much, and also that of his sons and daughters, and I attempted to console him and show mercy unto him ever after.

And so it passed that I was accepted into the family of Nadjie, and was very much loved by him, and he treated me as his own son, although my skin was fair and not as beautiful as their skin.



~11


And so it passed that we landed in this new land, and were all near unto death from starvation, having had been at sea for nearly a full year since after setting off at the time of my wife Rachel’s death.

And so it passed that we attempted our best efforts to build a new home in this green and pleasant land, and in this we spent years to accomplish.

It was not very long after arriving in this new land that my father Lehi died and was buried.

Upon his death, Nephi claimed authority over our company, and yet many of us believed Nadjie should rule.

And so it passed that great disagreements came about, due to the leadership of our people, and many were fond of Nephi and believed in the words which he spake concerning the voice of the Lord God, and his calling to build a temple such as what Solomon had anciently built.

In the dark of night, Nephi and those fond of him fled from us into the wilderness, taking with them all supplies we had stored up, except the few items we had with us while sleeping.

This departure left us with great difficulty, for not only did we have no tools to grow crops or cut the earth, we also lost our weapons for the hunt.

Being recently fattened up with the bounties of the land, we all survived the abandonment of Nephi and his followers, but suffered with great hunger until we were able to build weapons for the hunt. And some weapons we were able repossess from Nephi after locating their whereabouts.

But a knowledge of crop growing we had not, for it was the task of the younger members of our party to grow crops, and the task of the older members to hunt. Therefore, all crop growers followed Nephi and believed in his communications with the Lord God.

And so it passed that we did live from eating animals for many years, and did learn that it is best to eat the fruits of the land, for some of the older members of our party died too early.

But it took many more years to build tools of the crop, having been much overly occupied with gathering from the forest the wild fruits and animals.

Nephi henceforth called us savages, and taught his children and those who followed him, that we were enemies. Ans so his people have since called us enemies, and I fear they always will call us enemies, although we are brethren.

O, my brother! Why must we be your enemies and not your brethren?

And so we were also called by the children and followers of Nephi, and also called us cursed, for the skin of our people was dark.

And much of the darkness of our skin came from having little shelter and little protection from the sun, spending waking hours hunting. And much of the darkeness in our skin came from Nadjie.

The daughters of Nadjie were very beautiful to look upon, and were gentle in their hearts and feared the Lord God although their god was of a different land, and I took two of them to wife, and they bore me many children and were healthy and were strong.

Other daughters of Nadjie were taken as wives by the sons of Ishmael, and they also bore many sons and daughters, and the daughters were at times married to the sons of Nadjie, and some other servants which came with Nadjie.

And we multiplied quickly, and were healthy after learning the diet of the new land, feeding ourselves with seeds, nuts, fruits, and roots. We found many medicines from the land, and were able to run after our prey with much energy for many days without fainting.

The health of my children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren improved with every passing year, and we were strong and had little illness.


~12


And so it passed that I taught my people always the ways of the Lord God, His Priesthood, the temple, and the sacrifices made therein, saying,

Do no injustice, but live without taking from another.

Give honor to each other and to your women.

Keep the commandments of the Lord God as was given to Moses on Mount Sinai, you must not kill, for killing will bring about the curse of God, you must not steal, nor bear false witness, nor covet anything that is not yours by the law, nor break the Sabbath day or do anything but give honor to the Lord God on His Sabbath and to honor the earth, nor take the name of the Lord God in vain, nor have any other gods before Him, nor commit adultery, nor take anything that is not yours by the law.

Give to one another when the other has need, whether clothing or food or a heart which feels and listens, for the more you give, the less the earth will take from you at the last day, for the earth exacts payment from those of us who live upon her.

And return to the earth that which you take from it. Do not as the people who follow Nephi do, which is to cut out forests to build false temples, and yet dishonor God by failing to replant new seeds in the earth.

Do not build temples unto yourselves, but spend your resources on feeding your hungry and giving shelter to your aged and crippled. And do not perform rites and ordinances in the ways done in Jerusalem, for the Lord God has His temple, and the Priests and Levites will attend to this, for the Lord God will strike down the wicked who mock His Holy ways.

Do not make sacrifices of your animals, for this is for the Priests to perform, rather eat from the fruits of the land unless your people are starving, and kill the creatures of the Lord God with wisdom and with prudence and only in small amounts.

And waste not the creatures of the Lord God, but use all parts with wisdom and for the nourishment and enrichment of life, and give thanks to the Lord God in all these things continually, and ask for His mercy in the killing of His creatures for the preservation of your lives.

For the creatures on the earth are holy and provide life to the soil and to the cycles which should only be interrupted when the life of man is at risk, for the Lord God commanded Adam to have dominion over the creatures of the earth,

And the earth groans when that dominion is unjustly exercised, like unto those who follow Nephi and grow large and heavy on the meat and milk of animals.

And although you suffer from the deeds of your brethren, who have abandoned you, show unto them the respect of brotherhood. Give unto them when they ask, and do not cause strife and anger between yourselves, for much anger is felt because of my firms hands towards my younger brethren and much blood has been spilt.

And would that I could take back my anger and violent ways, for now the lives of us all are threatened because of the hatred towards each other, and because of our skin which they call cursed instead of pleasant.

And when violence is taken upon you by our brethren who have separated themselves from us, do not take violence upon them in return at the same level, but decrease your retaliation if you must take violence, but take not violence unless the law requires it.

For if you do not this thing, your excess retaliation will be unjust, and your brethren will find it unjust, and will return to you again, and this evil thing will lead to the entire destruction of all people.

For it was taught by the ancient prophets that only one eye be taken for the loss of an eye, and yet it becomes easy for angered men to take more vengeance than is lawful.

In cases of retaliation, the punishment is such that it is to be esteemed by him who is receiving the retaliation as a mark of mercy due to the mildness and meekness of punishment, thus burying the offence into the earth, not to be dug up again.

And have independent judges make judgment if ever disputations arise concerning the need for retaliation.

And if the law does not require it, show naught but love to all mankind, for the great law taught by the prophets at Jerusalem is that you are to always love the Lord God, and worship His ways, and give reverence to His justice.

And, my children, if this is not so, should we not also love our brethren, for they too are the product of the earth, which is the product of the Lord God, and they too must love the Lord God.

Did not Moses teach, Thou Shalt Not Steal? And yet, when you act with violence on your brethren, you are taking from them their pleasure, and their safety, and their good feelings towards you, and you also take from them their honor.

As the Lord God liveth, take not from each other, even as you should also take not from the earth without giving it back.

You have heard it said by some of your brethren that you will give it all back when your body dies and returns to the earth, but do not rob the earth by not always giving every moment of your life, and never taking.

Therefore, when you take revenge upon your brethren, you are stealing vengeance from the Lord God, for vengeance is His.

Walk in the ways of life such that as if all men everywhere walked your same path at all times and did the very same deeds, the earth would rejoice and be fulfilled and be better than her state the generation before, and not worse, and that all other men everywhere would be better than their prior state if all men did your same deeds.

This is the walk of life.

Remember that when you serve each other, you cleanse yourself, and much cleansing is required, for you have no Priest to offer the sacrifice of Atonement for you.

Sing songs and rejoice that you are alive. Make music and dance upon the fertile earth. Spend many hours between each change of the moon in reverence before the creations of the Lord God, for this is wisdom.

Do not assume that your food and shelter is safe from destruction, so kiss your children on their cheeks whenever you are not laboring to provide for them.

Labor not for yourself, but always labor for your family, and the Lord God will bless you with the fruits of your labor and the wisdom of your ancestors, for in this you are replenishing the earth, as was commanded by the Lord God to Adam and Eve.



~13


These things did I teach unto my posterity.

And so it passed that the time has come for me to return to the earth. And I never have laid eyes again on my homeland Jerusalem. And it was said that we fled Jerusalem to avoid its destruction,

But the Destruction was foretold already by Jeremiah and other prophets, and we know that there would be a Messiah to restore us to the land of our inheritance if the Holy City would be destroyed.

And it is not the destruction of a city or a body that man should fear, but the destruction of the soul. I fear we are now cast off and our souls are in peril, for we are no longer in the presence of the holy Temple of our Lord God.









Uncle Ron

From the clouds, the land looked quilted, woven with green and gold thread. The roads were silver seams. Along the seams people traveled from home to home celebrating holidays, healing sickness, bringing food during drought, giving long embraces when children were born, delivering gifts when lovers married. No thorns or thistles grew in this soft blanket, reinforced by the soft bellow of cattle. Here and there something hid underneath the quilt—it bulged up slightly but the crops grew just the same, keeping it hidden. All small squares were tightly sewn together, one square mile each.

Between 1st Street and Lincoln Road a square of farmland was split up the middle with an irrigation canal and a new railroad track running side by side, creating a permanent barrier between the two plots of land. On the tracks, slow heavy trains carried potatoes, barley, and wheat. The sloshing canal, ten feet wide, delivered clear water filtered by grassy banks to the fertile crops which huddled alongside it. The railroad and the canal worked together, carrying wealth back and forth across the valley.

Years passed unnoticed. The railroad and the canal were successful. Crops grew in plenty and the trains carried it away. Crops grew in plenty, crop prices fell; home prices climbed. Big corporate farmers got more efficient, crop prices fell; home prices climbed. More lovers married, more children were born, years passed unnoticed. Crop prices fell; the farmer sold the land to a real estate developer.

An estate was developed. Two estates: Mobile Home Estates on the west side of the tracks and Cloverdale Estates on the east. The mobile homes were trucked in on big wheels and dropped side by side. The sides of the homes were fitted with plastic skirts that concealed the wheels underneath. Trailer hitches were hidden by flower pots with wilting plants. Shallow holes were filled with leaning fence posts to divide with chain links the few feet of space between trailers. Large guard dogs entertained children and protected toolboxes. Aluminum car ports were erected. Aluminum sheds were erected. Aluminum television antennae began to deliver loud signals, first grey and then in color, to the hard-working inhabitants of Mobile Home Estates. Large holes appeared in Cloverdale. The holes were filled with firm footings of reinforced concrete. New homes with basements were built. Homes in Cloverdale had wooden siding painted with color, and were filled with wooden bookshelves, wooden tables, wooden cabinets, and warm carpet. Small trees were planted in anticipation of immense growth to be witnessed over multiple generations. Rocks were replaced with topsoil mixed with grass seedlings. Fresh shingles and clean glass sparkled under blue sky.

From the clouds, the look has changed. Cropland is replaced with alley, drive, lane, loops, and cul-de-sac, making indistinguishable the silver seams. The canals run lower every year, the tracks less used. Like ants, cars spread the seams and line up for busy errands, digging up what lies beneath.

---

Ron lives in Cloverdale and doesn’t listen to his parents, who tell him that Mobile Home Estates is off-limits during bike rides. His girlfriend lives there. Her name is Taylie. She has brown hair, always in a braid. She wears sneakers, T-shirts, and freckles. She fights hard and likes Ron.

Taylie is a quarter Native American and a quarter French. Grandparents on her mother’s side were an unlikely couple. Taylie’s parents were also an unlikely couple. Her mother was probably the most beautiful woman in the state and her father was bald on the top with a bad comb-over. He was also confined to a wheelchair. When Taylie’s parents were young the community pulled together some money through bake sales, sewing and craft sales, and farmer’s markets to help them afford a new place to live. The casino on the Shoshone reservation also helped. It wasn’t the man’s fault he couldn’t work, the community said. Their new home was a mobile home in Mobile Home Estates, the newest community in the county at that time.

Now Ron and Taylie attend different schools, different churches, and their parents shop at different stores. The two friends stay away from Taylie’s house as much as possible to keep Ron’s parents happy. “We don’t mind the girl, but we don’t want you wandering around her neighborhood. Bad influences are there,” they say while leaving for work.

Ron watches television while they go. He listens to the radio. After a productive morning, he searches for Taylie. He meets her where the tracks meet the canal. Over the years they’ve spent most of their time near the canal telling stories, building forts, floating boats, looking for fish, laying Abraham Lincolns on the tracks to be flattened by the next train. Taylie suggests a new activity every day. Between the two, Taylie has the brains, but Ron isn’t far behind.

Ron uses his brains for reading magazine pictures. They give Ron an idea of all the things he could have but doesn’t. Ron watches more music-TV, looks through more magazines, and makes a mental inventory of all the things he should have but doesn’t. Ron tells Taylie that one day he will have it all. He can’t think about anything else.

“Of course. You’re smart enough,” answers Taylie. “Just…be patient. The best thing is to focus on your schoolwork. You don’t seem to care anymore.”

Years pass. Ron behaves patiently. His frustrations grow faster than his body, and neither grow as fast as his ever-growing clothing size, which are now far too large for his body. It is his style. His friends follow his style and everything else. He finds a new type of music that speaks to his frustrated desires.

"I know you want to suceed, but it'll be hard if you don't do well in school," Taylie reminds him.

Ron tells Taylie that she doesn’t know what she was talking about, that rappers make a lot of money and don’t need school. One evening Ron and Taylie decided to spend time at her house. While walking up the wheelchair ramp Taylie’s strange neighbor Tom calls after them.

“Have you two seen my cat?”

“No,” Taylie and Ron answer at the same time. The neighbor Tom looks tired, anxious, and dirty.

"My cat has disappeared. I can’t live without my cat."

Ron tells Tom that if the cat is that important, he should find it fast before dying.

“What do you think I’m trying to do? Huh?” Tom the neighbor wanders away quickly, every few seconds taking a look under imaginary things. “Smart-aleck,” Tom says under his breath.

Ron gives a short laugh at the crazy neighbor and follows Taylie inside.

“We haven’t seen you in a while Ron. Welcome back,” says Taylie’s father warmly.

Ron says thanks.

“How are your parents?”

Ron shrugs but doesn’t say anything.

“They’re good to let you visit us finally. Tell them we missed you.”

Ron and Taylie make their way to Taylie’s bedroom. She shows him all of her college brochures.

“It’s never too soon to prepare. I think I can go to a good university if I keep my grades up. I might even get a scholarship because of my Grandpa Rabbit-Tail. Look at how nice these places are! These have excellent chemistry programs, and these have really good Biology teachers. There are so many choices.”

Ron looks away from the vinyl records in his hands to glance at the college brochures and pretends to show interest. Taylie’s father looks in from the hallway.

“We’re going to the corner store to get some bread. We’ll be back in half an hour. Think we can trust you two to hold up the fort ‘till then?”

“Bye Dad,” was the last thing she ever said to her father.

Ron didn’t wait long after Taylie’s parents drove away before making unwelcome advances on her. Ron was unsuccessful and stormed out of the house. The events of the evening left Taylie in a sour mood. When her parents came back home she had already showered. Her beautiful mother came in to check on her before going to bed. While lying in bed, Taylie decides to break off the relationship with Ron and plans to do it the next time she sees him.

The next evening is the next time she sees him is, a warm summer evening. She rides to his house and leans her bike against the large willow tree in Ron’s front yard. She can feel the cool blades of grass reach around her flip-flops to tickle her feet. The boys in the house, Ron’s friends with baggy clothing, start to trickle out the front doorway. His friends spend their time at Ron’s house, having less parental intrusion.

Ron is the first out the doorway, and does not look happy to see her. He looks at her as if she is from an enemy gang--an imaginary gang--or worse: a threat to his manhood.

“Ron, I need to speak with you in private.”

“That’s Ronsta to you, woman,” says one of the boys standing behind Ron, bending his knees as he says it while tilting his head to the side to match his New York Yankee baseball hat, which is also off to the side to protect his left ear from sunburn. This boy isn’t interested in baseball, or any other kind of sport, which is clear by his scrawny white body under his baggy clothing. When he says “Ronsta” he flings out his hand. This makes his excessive amount of fake jewelry bounce, while his clothing threatens to fall off his shoulders and waist.

Ron says that his friends are allowed to hear anything she has to say. Taylie states that their relationship is over. Ron slaps her. His demonstration is a claim of his superiority, but the claim is not complete until he calls her a name referring to female dogs while the onlooking boys make noises of victory.

Taylie rides her back towards home tearless and relieved. She passes the homes in Cloverdale. The yards have large trees. The homes have wood siding and wood bookshelves and clean windows. She crosses over the border between the two estates, the railroad tracks and the canal. The canal runs dry and the railroad track is covered in weeds, having nothing more to do here.

She arrives home and parks her bike. There is no room in her mind for distractions, so she barely notices the conversation she has with her neighbor Tom. The neighbor is unloading his rusted old van and has a metallic container under his arm. During the conversation he gives to her a golden locket and Taylie thanks him. Inside the gold locket are pictures of his lost cat and his lost wife, one on each side. The picture of Tom’s wife doesn’t look pretty, and Tom’s cat doesn’t look healthy.

“You are a good girl. You deserve a better life than the three of us had,” says Tom.

“Thanks.”

Taylie walks up the wheelchair ramp and goes inside, locking the door behind her.

Her mother greets her and gives her a long hug. She noticed Taylie’s stress. She tells her mother about the breakup and her feelings of relief. Her mother, too, feels relieved. Taylie goes to her room and sits at her desk and places the locket on top of the stack of college brochures. Colleges all over the country are interested in having her attend their school.

Taylie takes a long breath. The oxygen stretches her ribs and feels cold in the corners of her lungs. She holds it in for as long as she can and releases it. It feels like she hasn’t breathed like this in years—or ever. The only sound is the ticking of her alarm clock. For some reason the ticking brings her to her senses. She realizes something isn’t right about the locket Tom gave her. She can’t think of any reason why he would give her the locket. He had worn it for as long as she knew him.

Taylie was too overwhelmed to notice the conversation with Tom, and is now too far away to hear Tom lighting the suicidal fuel in metallic canisters in his mobile home. The explosion destroys Tom’s home and sends an aluminum support beam through Taylie’s bedroom wall. It misses her clock, misses her vinyl records, but strikes her from behind, piercing her heart, killing her.

Ron and his friends do not hear the explosion. It sounds much like the video game they are playing. They remain oblivious to the incident. They are still celebrating Ron’s superiority by giving each other high-fives, guffawing, drinking beer, braying, and emitting odors.
Jane married. Her new husband’s grandfather had no teeth, and said “Go live near the Armstrongs. They have an ox. You can use the ox when they are not. With the ox you will plow the dry ground and plant things that grow.” Jane’s husband agreed.

They moved to the Armstrong’s land. With time they had their own small cabin on the other side of the dirt road across from the Armstrong’s. The cabin was made of logs. Jane wondered where the logs came from--there weren’t trees in this part of the country.

Instead of trees the land was filled with small bushes which were always dry. Every living thing looked dead. Here, the dirt looked deader than the dirt in other places. Where there weren’t crispy bushes growing, the clay dirt was cracked like the skin of a dehydrated reptile.

The most prominent feature of Jane’s new neighborhood was the ever-present sunshine and heat. Nothing would grow here if not for irrigation. It rarely rained. It seemed like summer all year long. It was hot and dry inside and outside, morning and night, summer and winter. The heat was penetrating. Even the rocks sat in dry sockets, not the usual cool wet underbellies filled with worms and sow bugs.

Jim Armstrong, the man that lived on the south side of the dirt road separating the two families, was a distant cousin to Jane’s husband. He owned an ox. He farmed plants and collected rusty plow tools. He had a wife, but Jane didn't know her name. Jane and Jane's husband referred to her as Jim’s Wife. That name seemed sufficient because there weren’t any other Jims around to confuse things.

Jane crossed the dirt road to visit Jim’s wife. After a few hours Jim came charging through the front door. His neck was covered in dirt mixed with sweat. The children scattered, afraid. Jim was rarely home in the afternoon.

“New blasted horse is no good. Slowest creatur’ just when you wanna go fast. I whip an’ whip an’ he just keeps a walkin’ like it’s a holiday. The Bailey’s are out of town for some reason or other. They’re always a runnin’ around the valley, tootin’ their money. Let’s see what you have a cookin’. Nothin’ good again, huh. Le’ me taste it anyways. Nasty! That’s bad stew. Hope it weren’t the good cow that went to make that stuff. But none of them cows have been good cows for years. I got to write a letter to Blaine down at the co-op. You have any ink? That stuff’s expensive. Don’t let them varmit kids of yurs spill it again. Art projects ain’t worth a poop. Hi Jane. I see this year’s crop is turnin’ out all right for you and the husband. He’s a worker, he is. Plenty of runoff from the mountains this year. Wife, you get to the writin’ of what I say. You got the better handwritin’ anyway. Write this: ‘Mr. Blaine, I got me a hundred pounds of potatoes an’ extra alpha, some good canned peaches too. Trade me for that plow extension that just came in. You know, the big one. My ox can handle ‘er. You know, I own an ox.’ Now le’ me read whachya wrote there.”

Jim sat at the small kitchen table, set his hat on the table, and was silent for a long time, reading. Jim’s Wife reached across him to clear the bowl of unfinished stew. Her hip touched his arm. He twitched away. The twitch was habit.

They had many children. The children were still hiding. Jim, having lifted the lid on the stew pot, let out the stew’s aromas. Eyes of the hungry children began appearing. The hungriest—and smallest and youngest and least accustomed to Jim’s humor—braved a journey towards Jim’s unfinished bowl. Jim yelled at the boy, told him to wait, spanked him, said something about saying grace and having no gratitude, and the boy cried into the worn fabric covering his mother's knees.

Jim continued reading. Finally he signed the paper and shoved it into his pocket and said “I do own an ox. A good ox." Jim put his hat on his head. "I’m a goin’ to the post office. Gunna stop at the Albertson farm an’ pick up them peaches. I’ll take this here bread for my supper. Don’t want none of that stew. Any clean canteens? Did'n think so. One of these days I’ll die of somethin’ growing in these dirty dishes. I’ll be back after sundown. Quit yur crying, little one. You got what was comin’ to ya. I’m talking the good horse."

The door opened, letting in a blast of light and warm air, and letting out Jim. The door slammed. The good horse galloped away. Jane looked at the chair Jim was sitting in, now covered some of the dust that Jim brought in with him. A few minutes later the oldest daughter came in the house from her hiding place and reported that the ox was dead. Jim’s wife sighed, and then sharply told Jane to scram back to her own house and mind her own business.

Jane went back to her own house to mind her own business, crossing the dirt road, having said nothing the entire visit. She could see her husband’s fields growing in the sun. How different it looked now that it had been plowed and planted. No more dry earth. Still, the cabin was dry--and hot. She saw her husband inside toweling off her only son who was wearing a wet pair of swimming trunks.

Jane’s husband looked at her and smiled, put the child down, and kissed his wife.

“I just saw Jim bolting out of here.”

“He’s going to the post office.”

“He just went yesterday.”

“He wants to get a plow extension from the co-op.”

“I'm sure he will find an extension useful.”

“I doubt it,” said Jane.

She liked this time of year. Her husband spent more time around the house while the crops needed less maintenance. She noticed her husband had made the bed and had started cooking lunch.

“Did you two go swimming?”

“We sure did! We were reading when I noticed how we both smelled. I thought some good water would do the trick.”

“It did.” They kissed again. The boy squirmed.

“Jim compliments your farming skills.”

“How unusual.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“I forgot to ask," said Jane's husband. "Did you read Uncle Dan's letter yet? How is everyone at the ranch?”

“They are just fine. Uncle has rounded up a few dozen more horses. He has three set aside for you, and an empty ranch house, and a lot of fertile land which never needs irrigation. We should go.”

Jane’s husband looked towards the Armstrong’s house, calculating his answer. He saw the family across the road, all but Jim, gathering around the shed where the ox laid.

"We should eat lunch. Our clothes are still wet."

Jane waited for the response to her suggestion. Then her husband spoke, "We'll leave after they're dry. We should pay respect to the ox. We owe the ox."

"The ox is dead."

This was a big deal. Jane was not joking. Also, she was good at minding her own business. Jane's husband frowned. "Hmmmph. Then we leave now, before Jim gets back."
'Taken' is the film we finish watching in the big city movie theatre. After the film, we eat as much of the large pizza and buffalo chicken wings as we can. Failing to finish, I end up with a few wings and pepperoni slices in one of those white to-go boxes.

Walking is such a burden with a full stomach, almost like being off-balance, leaning to the left.

Nights on the city streets look like nothing else, except for a weekend night on the city streets. Mostly locals, mostly young, always wealthy, never satisfied with one bar per night, people roam from one place to another smelling poorly and acting someone else’s age. The same is true this night.

I see an unusual man under the glow of flashing neon beer signs. He wants money—it appears he needs a haircut, a shave, and new clothes—and for money he is asking everyone in sight, apparently desperate enough to brave the strong smell of hairspray and hard liquor.

The way he moves from person to person reminds me of the way a senior in college moves when bouncing from booth to booth at a career fair. Then I remember one college class in particular.

The economics class, which had the highest concentration of Libertarians west of Stockholm, reported that fifty percent of the homeless have drug or alcohol problems, mental illness, or criminal records. I was about to ask the professor if he knew who made up the other fifty percent, because I assumed that it must be people who don’t have drug problems, have no criminal records, and quite possibly are children and families, but the class moved to the next subject so quickly, never to return, as if the problem were solved, being attributed to poor choices.

I thought 'Libertarian' would be a good name for hand soap. At the same time, I made a mental note that there were impoverishing consequences for choosing to be mentally ill.

My leftover food in a white box—which keeps changing colors under the neon Bud sign—is all I have, and I am confident this college-fair-impersonator isn't interested in food. No, I'd been warned, he wants money for alcohol and drugs.

Still, he keeps his eyes on the white box.

'I don’t have cash. Pizza?' I ask.

He takes it. His brief but sincere expression of gratitude is cut short while he rushes to a safe enclave to eat. He opens that to-go box in the same way I opened that white envelope containing my first job offer—ferociously.

May #1, Still Unidentified

My friend Brandon and I are the coolest people in the neighborhood. His kid brother is the third, which is why we didn’t invite anyone else to our trampoline camping night. Also, experiences with gravity and giant trampolines has taught that more than three people sleeping on a trampoline results in too much unintentional and unconscious contact during unpleasant hours of cold mornings. Three is a good number for these things.

I spot another falling star. We've spotted hundreds during tonight’s meteor shower. This one shatters on its way to earth causing a silent cascade of sparkling light.

The back yard which houses the trampoline is fenced and private. The starlight makes the grass look mysterious. There is no moon and the air is still warm. A perfect night for star gazing.

A flash of light frightens us out of our dozing conversation. Seconds pass and I still can’t determine the source, and my eyes still haven’t adjusted back to the darkness. We’re all scared, and the adrenaline in our blood is making it difficult to speak evenly. Still, someone offers their theory: lightening. We search the sky but see nothing but stars. There isn’t a cloud in sight from horizon to horizon.

On the fifteenth second after the flash we hear a disturbing sound louder and deeper than thunder, but definitely not thunder.

We don’t say a thing. We sink ever so slightly more closely together in the trough of the trampoline canvas. Faces down and mostly covered, we wish we weren’t special enough to hear that, see that.

The air is cold now.

Finally, someone dares to speak while the other two scan the dark lining of the fence for fear of unknown eavesdropping predators. Anything is possible now.

Our hushed voices find enough confidence to spend the next few hours postulating the source of the mystery.

We all agreed that the entire sky was lit, so it was impossible for us to determine its location. The booming sound was so loud. Its delay in reaching our campsite suggested a location far away.

Brandon and his brother weren't Boy Scouts. So, being the only Boy Scout present, I offer my knowledge that thunder takes one second to travel a mile after a lightening strike. After speaking, I remember that I didn’t learn that from scouting adventures, but from an unpopular girl at school recess. I keep that part to myself. Not caring how wrong this theory could be, we use it to conclude that the sound originated from at least fifteen miles away, narrowing the location to somewhere in the city centre, in the suburbs, or on the other side of the foothills in the middle of nowhere.

Then Brandon’s kid brother offers a far more profound analysis on the history and evolution of sonic science and other dealings with physics, which he shouldn’t know at such a young age, confirming my earlier suspicions about the credibility of an education through the Boy Scout program.

Theories of aliens and UFOs, secret government projects of nuclear proportions, etc., keep me frenzied. I want to go inside the house now because it’s cold.

April #4, Frogs

I find a tadpole in a stagnant pool. There are others too. They are pea-sized. My shadow momentarily protects their habitat from the blazing sunlight. They pretend not to see me. Now I see hundreds in the shallow water, but I only take the one. I put him in a fishbowl.

I don't know what tadpoles eat, or if they eat at all. Weeks pass and the small wiggler grows legs, then arms. He stops wiggling and climbs out of the water, his body now almond-sized.

I do know that frogs eat flies, and that frogs need to eat.

There is a fly in the living room right now. I've never seen a frog eat a smashed fly, so I try to catch it alive. I'm unsuccessful. However, a whip from a kitchen towel brings down the fly. I scoop it up and drop it in the fish bowl.

Confirming my earlier suspicion, frogs don't eat smashed flies.

Then the fly revives! It must have been stunned, not dead; not for long. The tiny frog attacks the fly with his tongue in a split-second, then swallows. The frog is satisfied, and I am a satisfied master.

Looming behind my grinning face is the fear of having to regularly provide for him. His meal was the product of my luck and his instinct, and I can control neither.

So, my green friend takes a bike ride with me back to his green tadpole pond. The fishbowl, the bicycle, and I are still alien to this place. Again my shadow covers the entire habitat. I release him to the wild, doubting his survival and hoping I haven't crippled him.

Jaded

Why is this so difficult? Others have it worse. It must be difficult for me because I'm totally unprepared. Seeing my infant daughter in the hospital breaks me, but it shouldn't.

Remembering that it could be worse, how hard others have it, being told about biblical Job, isn't helpful. I feel depressed that others have it worse. Unfair.

My daughters rests her head against my chest. Her tongue is swollen to maximum capacity. The uninformed nurse suggests I feed her from a bottle. I wonder if my nurse if visually impaired. Blood is flowing from the wound under my baby's tongue.

My back is sore, but I keep holding her because she won't be comforted any other way. I spent the night in a hard chair, never sleeping. My wife slept on the cold wood floor. We weren't expecting to stay the night; the baby was expected to be healed by now; nothing was going as expected.

Between fits of pain and bleeding, the baby sleeps in my arms against my chest. I learn that she probably isn't sleeping, she's probably collapsing with exhaustion. It's been days since the baby has eaten anything. Her eyes roll, then close for another collapse. The only medicine she has is Tylenol and antibiotics. I think it's time for a new prescription.

The baby doesn't recognize the person who just entered the room, so she clings closer to me. While the newcomer performs a new procedure the baby cries a new song. A new cry that screams "Stop it. Why won't someone save me?" Then she collapses.

They keep moving her in and out of the ICU to make room for new patients. The multiple moves keep the baby's anxiety fresh, and also results in the ripping of the IV from her foot. Blood now from her top and bottom, her bed is soiled. The nurse has now provided me new sheets after three hours.

The antibiotics give her diarrhea. It finds its way to my pants, of course; I don't have another pair. I clean her up. She hates being put on her back--so untrusting now. I hold her to my chest again and the blood flows to my sleeves. I smell her breath. The potent odor of rotting flesh--of wounds unhealed--should never come from a baby's body.

We're both a smelly pair, neither bathed in days. We do our best to clean the mess, but the swelling continues anyway. Her exhaustion gets worse. Her blood clots get worse. Her heartbeat: irregular, leading to more procedures, leading to more haunting sounds. I can't tell her it'll all be okay. She's too young to understand; she thinks it'll go on forever. I don't know what I would say anyway.

Exhaustion reaches me. I blaspheme. Then again with real intent. I'm dizzytired. My arms can't hold her anymore. She's only getting worse. I fear the worst.

My wife takes over, so I make my way home on public transit. It takes longer than it should. I'm covered in mess. People give looks, I have violent thoughts.

Finally, I'm home. It should feel bigger because it's empty, but it's as small as ever, as expensive as ever. Work at the office is piling up, unlike my checking account. No help from Above. Others have it worse and I don't care. I'm broken. Life's unfair...blasphemously hopeless. I know God's there; I no longer care.

I remove my shirt to find my under-garments stained blood-red. I apologize to Him. I hope He forgives. Meanwhile, maybe I'll find and help someone worse-off.

April #3, Less Wind


Now a teenager, I'm finally old enough to drive. It's just a Ford Tempo, but it has air conditioning. On trips to the Mississippi, air conditioning is a must-have. The river is only miles away now. What will this new place look like? I don't know what to expect.

My viral distaste for the incessant Idaho wind led me to complain about every other aspect of Idaho life. The sage brush stinks, the cows are dumb, the houses are ugly, the farm equipment is rusty, and so on. I suppose Dad has had enough because he arranged this service vacation for me and my brother.

So far I'm surprised to learn that every other town between Idaho and the Mississippi looks exactly the same, minus the sage brush. Cows, paint-needy houses, and farm equipment weren't unique after all.

I'm excited to see the Mississippi River. Stories of Tom Sawyer grow thick in my memory the closer we get.

Then we arrive at our service site to find a stack of wood siding waiting to get nailed to a horse barn. A service vacation inconveniently includes service.

It's hot outside, and humid. Horse manure never had so many airborne flavors. I can't remember my nose ever feeling so warm and wet. The morning sun is still behind the trees, but I'm sweating already. When the sun finally peaks, it pays special attention to my black hat and black shoes by giving them extra heat. My wet skin attracts every insect in the county. This feels like work. Where's the vacation? I miss my paper route.

Hours go by, then days. At every heartbeat I swat a fly, the spare time is filled with smashing mosquitoes, but always too late. Their red mark is painful after scratching through my moist skin. They're buzzing in my ear, in my nose, in my eye. What happened to the adventure?

In desperate irritation I exclaim my profound annoyance.

Dad stops. He smiles. Then he says "makes you wish for a little wind."

I agree. With his seven calculated words he successfully ceases a lifetime of weather complaints.

April #2, Wind

My twelve year old body shivers against the winter wind. I ache from carrying the paperboy bag on my shoulders. The weight of the papers makes my bicycle feel unsteady, like the seat will break or the tires will pop. It's hard to get any momentum against the unrelenting wind. I should have worn gloves.

I'm the only living thing outdoors. How could it be dark at this time? A warm glow from a subscriber's living room window is offset by his cold scowl. His paper is late.

I take extra time to show him how much I care about his paper. Then a wind gust catches a Kmart ad and sends it to a wet gutter. I chase after it with fifty pounds on my shoulders testing my balance and spinal strength. The shoe souls feel mushy from the extra weight.

I bend down to get the ad from the gutter and wind takes advantage by throwing me to my knees. I catch myself with my left hand, but the ice-cold gravel draws blood. The paperboy bag breaks open and more papers take flight.

When against me, the wind blows in only one direction; against paper, it blows in seven. While it has me distracted, the wind throws some coarse dirt into my wet eyes.

By the time I'm composed, the subscriber on the warm side of the window is colder than ever. Now his paper is late and wet.

Who shops at Kmart anyway?

With more force than necessary, I cram his paper into the box, bending its hinges. I include the Kmart ad, colored with my blood as a bonus.

I mount my bicycle and press into the wind. I curse it audibly. The wind is criminally annoying. Every day it blows against me.

March #3, Pigeons

The graceless air rats called pigeons are the embarassing cousings from the Columbidae family. Nature confusingly prefers these animals to others by endowing them with the ability to fly and with a bonus feature of inextinctability.

My most heated pigeon dilemma occured in a tall building which had a residential unit on the top floor. Because the building was still in construction, this top floor residential unit was nothing but four walls of windows. The unfortunate pigeon found its way into the construction site but couldn't find its way out.

I attempted to frighten the pigeon out the door. It wanted to escape--as evidenced by multiple pigeons-shaped dust marks scattered about random windows--but had accepted the fact that it was trapped.

Because it wouldn't cooperate, it was my duty to slay the beast. I don't habitually kill things. Even detestable spiders find themselves led out of my house unharmed. (Unless I ever find those big brown fuzzy ones. Those I vengefully kill instantly even if it means using my bare hands or feet.)

The act was difficult. I had to recruit one of the office workers to help me. He would chase the pigeon towards me while I waited with a broomstick and adrenaline. The process continued for over an hour, and I believe the bird had a good understanding of the threat for at least the last 55 minutes. The broomstick finally made contact. It only took once. The lump on the cold cement floor was my answer to Nature's preference.


March #2, Cats

I heard the worst details about our neighborhood cats from a stranger on the other side of the world.

I heard the details while I sat in a large English dining room lit only by natural afternoon sunlight shining in from bay windows, which provided pleasant lakeside views. Apart from the bay windows, all of these aspects were very unusual to England.

At the head of the table, with her back to the windows, sat a middle-aged woman who had just finished explaining that she had lived in the same small neighborhood where I came from, and knew all about Celia Allgood, the dogs, and many other life-long neighbors of mine. The world felt small again, but I still had a hard time believing it, until she provided irrefutable evidence regarding the neighborhood cats.

Oh what horrible things were done to these cats, she exclaimed. How they were treated in such inhuman ways! During this time I wondered if she preferred to have cats treated in human ways, but my thoughts were cut short by gruesome rumors of cats buried neck deep, lawnmowers, and detailed physical examination of the bodies that even Leo da Vinci would find unnecessary.

It's easy to imagine how a cat could find itself experiencing premature cessation. When sensing danger, a more modest animal will flee. Felines smugly insist that Danger is the out-of-place object and (with a hiss) will insist that Danger should flee. Danger is often a fast-moving Honda which, by nature, has listless momentum when confronted with the offended ego of a cat.

I was very familiar with the boys who behaved inhumanly. They were former friends of my older brother. This English woman slowly breathed each of their names the same way Voldemort said the word "Muggle."

Sensing that the injustice was keeping this woman awake at night, I did my best to put her at ease by explaining that the two ringleaders of the anti-cat club have since had a great deal of losing arguments with the Law (non-cat related), and have even had their shameful mugshots printed in the local newspaper. My attempt was successful, and she seemed to have lighter shoulders.

The last time I saw this well-traveled woman was in an English church parking lot. She was waiting for people like myself to exit the church so she could make an announcement. I asked her what news she had, she told me she had decided to join the Army. Given her age and physical condition, I imagined her at best as a civilian secretary in a bunker on an island somewhere. I asked her how she came to such a dramatic decision and she said it was inspiration from heaven. I heartily encouraged her, although I couldn't imagine what use she could be to the military.

Months later I discovered that it was The Salvation Army that I encouraged her to join, which made much more sense after recalling how often she felt offended by her original church.

March #1, Dogs

Celia Allgood, who lived across the street from my childhood home, had no legs and nearly a dozen dogs.

Her house smelled like warm wet hair and dog food. One of the dogs, aptly named Buttons, was the ugliest, meanest, most unpleasant beast imaginable. Buttons was the butt of family jokes, and we thought of clever ways to stab him with needles or sew him to train tracks. I don't know if I will ever fully understand why Celia kept company with this four-legged hobgoblin.

Paralyzed and widowed, Celia was the eternal dog-loving fountain of needs: turn off the sprinkler, find the missing dog, mow the lawn, chop the firewood, open the dog-door, change the light bulb, till the garden, defend against evil dog snatchers, etc. Her requests always seemed to interrupt the most important activity of the day, so my whole life was filled with Celia-avoiding strategy.

This attitude changed the last time I ever saw her. One evening she requested my service and I was too old to play dumb. During this visit Celia surprised me with a smart, pleasant, and conversational demeanor. And she gave me a gift--something warm for me to wear while in England.

Ignoring the habit of avoiding her, I carefully inspected her gift in my hands, thinking what a great job I'd done at turning my high-potential childhood into a dog-hating fountain of wasted video-gaming hours.

And I wasn't the only one avoiding her. As far as I could tell during my brief and unwilling visits over the years, the wall-covering collage of old family pictures stopped being replaced around the mid-70's.

I'd never met them before, but these family members were much more visible after Celia's death. Dividing assets is always a big task and requires the most heated passions to accomplish. The dogs were not assets, of course, but were divided still the same. They lost all value the moment Celia died. Then they disappeared--Buttons too--blanketing our neighborhood with creepy silence.