If Paul Revere Were to Ride Today...

Just suppose, just for a moment, that the events of the Revolutionary War period would be happening today.  And suppose Mr. Revere were to ride and give warning...

Paul Revere got into his convertible, started the engine and began his ride.  He picked up the bullhorn he had stored in the seat next to him and yelled into it: "The British are coming! The British are coming!"

The first person he rode by never looked up from texting on his smartphone.
The second person observed: "You know, he really should just start a hashtag."
The third person said to the fourth person: "Oh, I just don't want to even think about anything political."
The fourth person replied: "I know, if it doesn't impact my daily life, I just don't care."
The fifth person responded, "Oh, he's just being alarmist, anyway."
The sixth person said to the seventh person, "Hey, did you catch 'Survival Nation' last night?"
The seventh person replied: "Oh yes, and wasn't that blowout between Larry and Harry something?"

And somewhere, George Washington, John Adams, Benjamin Franklin, Thomas Jefferson, and the rest of the Founding Fathers - and Founding Mothers - must be crying.

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Related Post:   Now, What Would THEY Say?

 

Summertime!

     

Although I hate to move Mr. Kaepernick from the top spot, I thought it might be cool to point to some fiction I wrote - wow - two years ago. Wanted to do this while ---- it's still summer!

Enjoy!

 

A Summer's Carol, Part 1

A Summer's Carol, Part 2

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Reality Show Switch Up (Fiction)

Here's a little story to highlight the idea of being united.

Reality Show Switch Up

Fred, Susan, Laurel, Alan, and David were all dealing with sweaty palms as the cameras started to roll on “Find That Treasure,” a popular reality show by live stream which pitted five contestants against each other in a competition to find a hidden treasure of $500,000.
The host explained that each would be given a clue and that the first one to bring the gilt box containing it back to the studio would claim the prize. And so the hunt began.

Fred was given a coded message, Susan was given a photo, Laurel was given a list, Alan was given a printout of an internet page, and David was given a set of keys labeled in German.

The contestants were to be filmed confronting their challenge over a month.  They would be housed in a dorm, filmed as they tackled the challenged and watched for rule violations. Each set out on his or her own and began the hunt.  Fred labored over deciphering the coded message; Susan tried to figure out the significance of her picture, while Laurel and Alan tried to make sense of their clues as well.  And David puzzled over the German labels.  But with contest rules prohibiting any research on the Internet (in fact, no internet nor cell phones were allowed them), they each got nowhere.  Days wore on and sometimes they even tried to sabotage each other’s efforts.  Laurel would blare her radio at Fred as he tried to break the code, And Alan almost got his hands on David’s keys, but David was too fast. Alan just got wrist-slapped.  Two days were left to complete the challenge and the contestants were beginning to see that the time had just been wasted.

Susan passed a message in secret on to each of the others:  “Tired of wasting time? Maybe if we can ditch the cameras, we could work together?  Anyone interested, meet me for coffee right after dinner.”

Adventures In...(2015)

Here's something a bit different. I've been thinking a while about trying to convey that the way the world is now, it sometimes feels as though I'm Alice in some strange Wonderland.  So here goes:

Adventures In…(2015)

     I could have sworn that the world was turning faster, faster as I fought dizziness and drowsiness.  But it soon became clear I was not in my own bedroom any more. I was sitting in the grass in some strange place, still slightly dizzy.

     I looked up and noticed a grinning cat in what seemed to be a nearby tree.  The fact that he seemed to change colors every so often, from gray and black striped to yellow and white striped just made the place seem that much stranger.

     “So where am I?” I asked, though not expecting a reply.

     “Well, you are here, of course,” the cat answered.

      A bit startled at meeting a talking cat, I nonetheless managed to say, “But where is that?”

     “Between yesterday and tomorrow,” the feline replied.

     “I asked where I am, not when,” I retorted.

     “But if you know when you are, you also know where you are, for you cannot be in two places at the same time.”

     I nodded, as there did seem to be a certain logic to that. “But what kind of place is this,” I continued. “My head is still spinning while just sitting here.”

     “What kind of place were you expecting,” he asked.

     “I wasn’t expecting to be swept up to whatever this place is as I’m not even sure how I arrived here.”

    “It does seem as though the world-spin has brought you to just this sort of place.”

    “But why?”

    “Maybe you were in need of adventure?”

    “Adventure? I don’t think so,” I replied.  “Who am I supposed to be? My name’s not Alice.”

    Then I looked down and saw a silver handled mirror at my feet.  I reached for it and waved to the cat as I sought to find my way back to some sort of normalcy through that looking-glass.

Dialogue

I'm baaaaaak - and with another bit of fiction for ya -

Dialogue/That's Just the Way It Is

...Oh, that's just the way it is.
And you never question why it can't be different?
Why bother? What does questioning get you?
Questioning can be stimulating.  Maybe someone comes along and asks why things are "always this way."  Then maybe someone else comes along and asks why not "do things this other way."   Who knows? Some new solutions may pop up.
Sounds pretty ivory tower to me.
But it isn't really. Have you ever thought of how to do something better on your job?
Come to think of it, I did put in a suggestion just last month.
It's like that,  just on a bigger scale. 
Bigger scale?  I have all I can handle on my plate already!
Of course, we're all busy these days. But even a small action can sometimes help fuel a big change. Can you really tell me you're satisfied with the way things are now? 
I wouldn't say satisfied...
Then, can you imagine say, just one policy or program you'd like to see changed or implemented?
Whoa, I'm not political!
All you have to be is concerned about an issue. Then be willing to learn about it and to work toward change.
Oh sure, I can see my friends now.  the moment I start talking about it, they will roll their eyes at my bringing up 'the cause' again.
Well, you don't have to be obsessive; it doesn't need to take over your life. But by the same token, the last thing we need now is silence!
You mean my voice really does matter?
Absolutely.  Democracy is supposed to be a noisy bazaar.  There is a boisterous discourse  happening.  Your voice can only add to its richness. 
So what's my first step?
You might try telling folks that the way it "is" isn't the way it always has to be. 
Gotchya!
 

 

 

A Summer's Carol, Part 2

Continuing from yesterday's beginning... Our heroine Jill has been visited by the spirits of Ida B. Wells-Barnett and Sen. Frank Church...


Jill's respite only lasted a few moments, however, before she was roused by the sound of an acoustic guitar.
 

She sat up and saw the second of the promised apparitions, a man in t-shirt and jeans, appearing on the same chair by her closet as had the spirit of Sen. Church. She knew who this was. “You’re John Lennon – er – his spirit, anyway.” she said.

“Right you are, and for that you win – a free carton of Strawberry Fields ice cream.” the ghost replied.

Jill had to laugh. She strained to hear all the notes he was playing and he began singing “Merry Xmas (War is Over).”

“You know,” he said, stopping after the first chorus, “When I wrote this, it was specifically about Viet Nam.  But maybe now, on some level it’s about –"

“All wars being over,” Jill finished.

“And us being empowered to make that happen.” Lennon added.

Jill was just about to start singing along when the former Beatle gave his guitar a strum and in an eye blink was gone.

Jill’s heart was racing.  Did smartphone cameras capture ghosts, she wondered.  Pity she hadn’t thought of that before.  Her smartphone was on her bureau and she was going to get out of bed to grab it in anticipation of spirit number three, but had just turned to get out of bed when said spirit appeared, this one standing in her bedroom doorway.  It was not someone she immediately recognized, but he seemed to be a Latino man with graying hair and a slightly lined face. He was casually dressed in plaid shirt, jeans and black nylon windbreaker jacket.

“I am the spirit of Cesar Chavez,” he explained.

Jill recognized the name of the acclaimed civil rights and union activist. “I know you must have some message for me, as Ms. Wells-Barnett said I would have more visitors. Please, what is it I should know?”

“I was a co-founder of what has become the United Farm Workers Union.  Together, we found we could make changes and fight for better working conditions. So social justice can happen, if we unite to fight for progress.

“I once told someone ‘If you want to remember me, organize!’  Community based action needs to keep happening.”  He threw his arms up in a flourish and disappeared.

Jill just sat stunned for a moment trying to make sense of the events of the night.  Then exhaustion finally took over and she fell back into a restful sleep.

When her clock radio sounded in the morning, Jill didn’t move for a moment, contemplating whether what happened was real or just a dream.  She still had to get ready for work, so she finally got out of bed to begin her morning routine. 

When she left for work that day, she had completed an extra task over her morning coffee. She had updated her mobile playlist with a song she’d heard her parents play. It was a song by one of the visiting spirits that she hoped would help her to remember their lessons.

                                                The End

A Summer's Carol, Part 1

Greetings -

I thought I'd try something a bit different.  I'm not sure how good I am at fiction, but a story can sometimes be a good way for people to really connect with issues and ideas.  That was what George Takei said in discussing his theater project about Japanese internment camps in the U.S. during WW II.

So there were some ideas kicked around at The Intercept comments that got me thinking about doing a story...this is not exactly how I started seeing the project, but hey, ya never know exactly what will come out once an idea takes hold.  So here goes.  It came out a bit longer than I'd envisioned, so I will break it up into 2 parts.  I hope you readers enjoy it.

A Summer’s Carol

With apologies to a certain 19th Century English author

Jill could barely keep her eyes open as the 11 p.m. news droned on. It was the end of a long day and the night was fittingly humid for mid-July.  “There doesn’t seem to be much good news happening.  And there just seems to be nothing we can do,” she thought as she finally turned off the tv via her remote.  Already in her ivory cotton pajamas, she replaced the remote on her night stand, fluffed her pillow and settled in for some sleep.

But just as she started to doze off, there was this light at her doorway.  Her nervous system seemed to alternate between curiosity and fear as she sat up.  The light seemed to form into something resembling a woman in a gray Victorian silk dress with high collar and leg-of-mutton sleeves. Her milk chocolate colored skin and hair that was carefully formed into a neat bun gave her a nonthreatening appearance, so Jill demanded, “Who are you?”

“I am the spirit of Ida B. Wells-Barnett.” the apparition replied.

Jill had heard of the pioneering investigative journalist, suffragist and civil rights activist, but being unaccustomed to being visited by spirits she asked, “What are you doing here?”

“I heard you thinking about all the bad news and that there is nothing to be done.  I, along with three other spirits, will show you that that is not so.

“The news was also quite bad when I was working, but investigating and exposing the horrors of lynching helped many to know of this appalling practice and to oppose it.  Along with others, I also fought for women’s suffrage and civil rights.  So even when things are dark, you and others can still shine light.

“You will be visited by three more spirits this night.  Please take heed of their lessons.  Now I must ne going; there are a few broadcasters and reporters who call themselves journalists I’d like to visit.” The spirit of Ms. Wells-Barnett then disappeared into the darkness.

Jill just sat there in stunned silence, trying to decide whether to stay awake or try to sleep a bit before the next ghostly visitor arrived.

It wasn’t long however before the next spirit appeared and sat in the chair by her closet.  She didn’t recognize this man, impeccably dressed in a blue business suit. He was wearing aviator glasses on his oval face which was framed by slightly graying brown hair.

“And who are you?”  Jill asked.

“I am the spirit of Senator Frank Church,” he stated.  Jill nodded although she only vaguely recognized his name.

“I chaired the Committee on Government Operations with respect to Intelligence Agencies back in 1975 – 1976.”

Jill nodded.  She hadn’t yet been born when this committee was working, but she now knew where she’d heard the name Church before; it sometimes came up in articles about revelations of NSA spying divulged by one Edward Snowden.

“It seemed as though our committee’s recommendations were having an effect on the conduct of the intelligence community for a while.  But things began to slide backwards over time.  At least this fellow Snowden has opened up the conversation again. 

“But it is citizens, yes, like you, who must hold not only intelligence agencies, but all branches of government accountable.  As I said on “Meet the Press” back in the day: ‘…we must see to it that this agency and all agencies that possess this technology operate within the law and under proper supervision so that we never cross over that abyss. That is the abyss from which there is no return.’

“It’s now time for you and your fellow citizens to step up and work for that more perfect union those founders of ours talked about.”  And with that, he took off his glasses, waved a good-bye, and vanished.

Jill could hardly keep up with her racing mind, so she tumbled back to rest her head on the pillow again. She wondered, just what spirit would appear next.

Tomorrow: Two more spirits visit Jill...