 11 Sep 2004 @ 05:33, by John Ashbaugh
Seared into the collective memory of this nation and the entire globe connected in whatever remote fashion to the news machine of recorded history is the collapse of the Twin Towers of Babel, the sinking of the unsinkable Titanic.
September tenth into the eleventh, Friday into Saturday. Seared into the collective memory of this nation and the entire globe connected in whatever remote fashion to the news machine of recorded history is the collapse of the Twin Towers of Babel, the sinking of the unsinkable Titanic. There comes a time for a great wind to sweep around the globe. An enormous eradication may be in store for the inhabitants. The remaining population may be scattered and few, and from these nuclear remnants of isolated families and clans and tribes, will begin the re-emergence of the human experiment. Some of the various pyramids and megaliths may remain standing to serve as guideposts for the emerging consciousness. Many of the isolated tribal entities will have an inherited sense of the dimension and scope of the human experiment. They will leave symbols of guidance to the brothers and sisters of the genome. The task is to create a cohesive global consciousness free, free at last from the chains of self-inflicted violence. Which man or woman is not my neighbor? And as I do unto them, so I do unto myself. As we cross the desert and the great oceans once again in search of one another so that we may share our home in each other’s company, so that each and every one of us may flower in consciousness, whom we shall become shall rise like smoke through the clouds to the stars and their attendant clusters of life as we know it.
One of my fellow teachers, Rick W., made a request to read something I’ve written, so I gave him the script from my website. He is now the sole and only person in this school building who has a clue about my writing. He’s from Louisiana and West Texas and now New Mexico, and he’s got a Louisiana accent that I recognize from one of my dad’s brothers, now deceased, that I think reaches back into my Kentucky ancestry of the early nineteenth century, a flow of words and emphasis of certain syllables that survived through over a hundred years in central Illinois, that is virtually invisible in my father’s speech, and which is somewhat more faintly present in his other brother’s speech. It has been virtually wiped out in my St. Louis speech, although that remote connection between St. Louis and New Orleans is not to be ignored. In any case, Rick’s voice resonates in my heart, and we have a remarkably similar sense of humor and take on what to take seriously and how seriously to take it. He teaches Computer Aided Drafting.
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