Why do we ignore friends, sometimes for years, and then go out of our way to attend their wake? I don’t know how you feel about this topic, but I get myself into a tizzy over missing a wake. Over the years, wakes have caused me extreme anxiety. I found that missing the wake of an associate, acquaintance, co-worker, friend, sibling, or life partner depends on how close the individual is to me. By close, I mean genetically. Of course, there is a second level of closeness that involves distance or social association.
As I approach my own wake, my attitude is shifting. I never thought of missing a wake when I was more physically robust. Now, as my physicality diminishes, I am no longer bothered by not attending. Really, what can I do for the person involved? Most of the time, I don’t know anyone there, and the only guy I know is in the coffin. I pass by him, say a prayer, thank him for being my friend, and keep moving. Sometimes I will introduce myself to the widow and tell her how I knew her husband.
When it is all done, I look for friends I know to catch up with them and learn about their lives. Finally, I retreat and go home feeling good about giving the dead person a farewell. Did the deceased have a better outcome by my visit? I will not have a clue until I reach him after my own journey to the afterlife. At best, attending a wake at which the only one I know rests in the casket or an urn might make a difference to the widow or children of the deceased.
Today I did something that I rarely, if ever, do. I was reviewing my BLOG and noticed that someone had clicked on a link to a bike ride I took with my deceased friend, Lou Dini. A neuron in my brain fired, saying, “Follow the link.” I did, and I spent an hour reading two articles I posted on Grumpajoesplace. It is a gloomy, grey, cold February day, so re-reading a story about a trip I took during the turn of the century seemed like a worthy thing to do.
I took the trip with longtime friend, Lou Dini from Panduit, whom I met in 1968. He and I rode bicycles for exercise and eventually graduated to taking adventure tours together. We had often discussed Nova Scotia as a worthy adventure. Why? Neither of us could answer that question sensibly. “It sounds like fun” was the best answer we could conjure.
The link I mentioned above was to atlanticcanadacycling. Out of curiosity, I followed the link to see what it was about. It is the site I used to register for a supported tour of Nova Scotia, Canada. On this website, there are several rider endorsements, including mine. Lou and I wrote detailed accounts of our experiences. Lou’s is titled “Nova Scotia,” and mine is “Nova Scotia, My Side of the Story.” It surprised me to learn that my account is the one that Atlantic Canada Cycling decided to feature. I am more excited because that makes me a published writer.
Reading both accounts has left me in a state of melancholy because Lou is on a heavenly adventure, while I am stuck on planet Earth. My riding days are over; I am sorry to say that I sold my recumbent bike. There have been too many instances when I wished I still had the bike to ride again. Just recently, I envisioned taking a solo ride around the Great Lakes. Wouldn’t that be an adventure?
Don’t ask me how many hours were spent creating these avian critters. The answer is too many.
Some of them reside with friends, others in my personal aviary. Many have spent time visiting folks in a gallery or at an art show. No one has ever offered to buy one, so they hang on the walls throughout the house
Recently, I had a visit from my son, who lives in Texas. He came in to attend his sister’s funeral. We hugged at the door, and then he handed me a book. “You’ll like this, but I have to warn you that it is brutal. I just finished reading it, and I agree with his assessment; I liked it.
I never heard of author Kurt Schlichter before but the cover art caused me to jump right into the read, and I was about three chapters into it when I had to stop to check something out. Up to this point, I assumed this was a non-fictional story based on real events. What stopped me was that the author kept referring to a terrorist attack in the USA that happened on August 27, 28, and 29. I am usually up to date on my news and I had to Google the news of that period. There was no mention of any terrorist attack anywhere. That is when I finally realized that the story is fiction. This story strongly resembles current news and government. The president is clearly Joe Biden and his daffy Vice President Kamala Harris, but he never mentions their names anywhere in the story.
The plot of The Attack is genius. It is a war against the USA that is fought by hundreds of terror cells manned by thousands of illegal immigrants who came into the country over an open border and disappeared totally unchecked and unverified by anyone. The organizer, who remains anonymous, funded and housed cells of four to twelve or more agents in key cities throughout the country. They were to await instructions for when to go into action, having been prepped on their roles before hand; to kill as many Americans as they can before they themselves are killed. These are young men who will die and go to heaven to receive 72 virgins.
The attacks will be as follows:
DAY 1. Kill people, in no gun zones, schools, malls, airports, crowds in public places, etc., to overload the 911 system, and to cause confusion and chaos.
Day 2. Shift to neighborhoods at random around a city to spread police and emergency services apart. Kill families, and pets.
Day 3. Shift to infrastructure such as refineries, gas stations, water systems, train stations, airports, bus stations, and public transportation. Overload the 911 system, the police forces, fire departments, medics, and hospitals
The nationwide attack begins at 12:00 p.m. EST. All jihadists wear GoPro cameras linked to social media to broadcast the killing across the world to spread fear.
To explain any further would only spoil the outcome for readers.
I thoroughly agree with my son’s prediction that I would like the book. I recommend this to everyone as a wake-up call. The extent of our freedoms is making us stupid in so many ways. Throughout the story, the author uncovers how our liberal attitudes will someday cause our country to suffer. He also emphasizes the importance of owning firearms and learning to use them.
In the final chapters, Schlichter deals with how the government should respond to a mass attack as the one he has so eloquently formulated.
I give this story five stars, probably because I heed his message to be prepared.
