WRITING: dreams and asleep

Friday, August 9, 2013

“If you love me only in my dreams, let me be asleep forever.” – Unknown

Sorry, but all I have is dreams.

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WRITING: Six word autobiography

Thursday, June 13, 2013

Married soulmate. She died. That’s life.

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WRITING: Quiet Quite

Tuesday, April 30, 2013

In the quiet of the night,
When only my failed dreams and ghosts speak to me,
I sadly hear the call of Fate,
Serenely and sirenly call,
“come join me”.
My answer is “soon, my love, soon enough.”

–30–


WRITING: Pardigms and memes

Saturday, April 27, 2013

If paradigms are what I sense,

and meme are how I think of things,

then paradigms are how my body fools me,

and memes are how I fool myself.

After all what is reality?

But fools fooling everything and every one!

–30–


WRITING: Addie finds peace (a fragment from a future effort with the working title “Joan D’Arc; One Story from beginning of Third Vermont Republic”

Monday, January 7, 2013

Addie finds peace

Church bells! Church bells announced War’s end. Not heard in Vermont since the Blue Hat’s began their reign of terror.  Addie knew what she had to do. Donning her famous pink helmet with “warrior princess” above a scratched out “in training”,  she slung her “Uncle John”. That full size 12 gauge was heavy on her shoulder. She peddled her pink bike down hill from the farm almost effortlessly. The beautiful Green Mountain hills were a little greener today. The sky a little bluer. And the bells a little sweeter.

In what appeared to be the blink of an eye, she was at the Bennington Bridge. She looked around and a crowd had assembled. How had they known? She strode to the heated “Headsman’s Pike”, where the evil Blue Hats had “posted” the latest victim of their “justice”. She knelt before it and prayed for her Uncle, her Brother, her Comrades, and All that had died at this terrible place. She rose and saw that the crowd had knelt with her. She stepped off five long paces from the pole. The crowd receeded back like ocean. She unlimber Uncle John’s favorite gun. Waved the crowd back on the left and right. They moved slowly. She just waited. When it was safe, she fired at the pole. About head high. Took five but the pole shattered in the middle. The top fell to the river below. She walked to the stump, actioned out the remaining ammo, hung the gun on the stump, and topped it with her pink helmet.

It stayed that way forever. The helmet faded. The sling rotted. Some one nailed the rusty gun to the stump. But, it was said to be there for her return should ever Vermont need another heroine.

That was the end of the public appearances ever reported of Joan D’Arc.

Needless to say life didn’t end for Addie. Although to conceal her identity, she began to use the name Megan.

Life was good. The Farm prospered. Peace abounded. People returned to the normal ebb and flow of life. But the Third Vermont Republic, founded on the blood of patriots, developed a national identity, that prevented the disunity of any disagreement from becoming personal and nasty.

The fact that dueling was reintroduced helped quite a bit. Heinlein said it best: “An armed society is a polite society.”

From time to time, when in Bennington for errands and chores, Addie, now called Megan, would stop at her Uncle’s favorite tavern by that fateful bridge and have one of those disgusting beers he liked. His stool at the end of the bar was always empty with a glass, a pencil, and a pad of sticky notes as if he’d just stepped away. She sat on the stool next to his. It made her feel closer to him. That corner had pictures. One of te kneeling prisoners, arms bound behind them, surrounded by the hated Blue Hats. This minutes before the massacre. Someone had framed the New York Times story reporting that the “criminals were apprehended, given a fair trial, sentenced, and executed”. Below the story, scratched on the frame, scrawled roughly a title: “Lest We Forget”. Did anyone in Vermont ever read the New York Times after that?

She shed no tear. This was now a lesson of history. She could only pray it wasn’t forgot.

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WRITING: An injineer’s bedtime prayer

Tuesday, February 21, 2012

A fat old white guy injineer’s bedtime prayer

 

Now I lay me down to sleep,
If I should die before I wake,
I pray the Lord my soul to take.

And should I luckily awake, 
Help me be the best me I can be,
like the one you did make.

Teach me to see my flaws,
long long long long long,
Before others, offense they take

When you send me my troubles,
a test to take, 
brave, me, You should make!

The poor, me to see, Your help, please,
comfort them I should, 
That warrior I would be, I am, could, would, did.

At my own stumbles,
with a laugh gift me,
So that others I can join,
Humble, 
I have so much to be about.

And help me, God,
with all the things you know,
help with, I need,
that too blind to see, am I.

With the politicians,
patience, me you should grant,
if they had been smart, after all, 
they’d have been injineers too.

But most of all, 
help me check all my signs,
So that bridge doesn’t fall down.

Humbly submitted for your consideration,
this very night. 
In the sure certain knowledge … …

zzz zzz zzz zzz

-30-

© 2012 F. John Reinke

with apologies to:
MaryAnn (MC1989) McCarra-Fitzpatrick

 

 

 


WRITING: A Veteran of Unknown Origins

Monday, February 20, 2012

A Veteran of Unknown Origins

The Accident

It was a dark and storm night. The day had been a beautiful sunny summer’s day. The change was dramatic. He’d had the top down all day, but put it up for the drive home. Wife always complained of “fumes” on the highway even though cars returned purer air from the “exhaust” than came in the “intake”. But women; that was one battle no husband would ever win. She had other offsets; the Irish eyes, the rapier wit, and an athletic constitution. The picnic with relatives was fun. Seeing so may generations in one place at one time was inspiring. He turned off Route 37, drove by “his” American Legion Post, saluted, and approached the turn onto the ocean block. The storm intensified, lightin’ ‘n’ thunder, and the street was covered with several inches of storm water. He’d be glad to get his baby in the garage. The cherry ’57 Caddie was his special occasion ride. As he turned, he saw the surge. It looked like a foot or two wave coming right from the ocean. It lifted the heavy Caddie and rolled it. Wife was sucked right out of the car; he was restrained by the new fangled seat belt that she refused to mess her dress with. There was an instant to panic as the water engulfed him and the world went dark.

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The Scene

Lefty ran into the Post bar and yelled: “John: Call 911. There’s a one car accident in the back lot.” The Post Commander was tending bar and. like a good ex-military man, he could follow orders. “911. What IS your emergency?” “Post 351 has a one car accident in their parking lot.” “Anyone hurt?” “Don’t know yet.” “I’m dispatching now.” With that John went to see the accident. The bar had cleared; this was going to be the excitement of the day.

From the porch, he could see a Caddy on it’s side with sand all around it. Maybe the jerk rolled it speeding around the bend on Route 37, but he’d have had to be doing over 100 to get that many rolls. Then he notice that the lot’s fence was intact. Did it drop from the sky?

Walking over to it, he could hear the exclamation by someone: “I don’t care what it looks like, it does NOT look like any Caddy I’ve ever seen. The logos are right but everything else is wrong.” “Anyone hurt.” “The driver’s belted in but out of it. We’re waiting for rescue to backboard him. He’s got an American Legion jacket on, but even that’s strange Post 158247532?”

Patrol rolled up on the scene, and the officer radioed in: “We’re got a DUI here. Send a supervisor and HazMat for a fuel spill.” The rescue squad was right behind him. “Get him out and I’ll handcuff him to the gurney. Suspicion of DUI.” John was frosted: “Officer how can you presume he’s drunk?” “Rolling a car? Duh! I’ll probably get to write 5 or 6 tickets. Maybe get a commendation.” John looked around for Pete, the Post’s attorney. “Pete: Make sure this fellow doesn’t get railroaded. Until he can fend for himself, it looks like he’s ours.” “Sure. Give me a dollar as a retainer.” “You brigand!” The officer reached into the car, opened the glove box, and grab what he believed would be the registration. Pete chimed in: “OK, unreasonable search and seizure. Did you ask my Client for his license, registration, and proof of insurance before you search his closed glove box?” “No. He’s unconscious. Probably drunk out of his mind.” “Assumes facts not yet in evidence. May I have the material you seized from my Client? And you can address your questions to me. Unless you don’t want your pension going to my retirement account.” As visions of tickets satisfying his quota danced in his head, he handed over the papers. “OK, counselor, we’ll play it your way. Client’s name?” Looking at the American Legion jacket, “Ameril E Gion, will do for now”, and looked at the papers. He was in trouble. There was a New Jersey registration, but there was no name on it. Same with the Insurance Card, who ever heard of ‘State Met Pru’ Insurance. And the ‘paper’ felt like plastic. 

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The Hearing / Witness #1

“Ms. Buhl, for the record, please state your credentials.” “Certainly, I’m a Doctor of Forensic Medicine, as well as Pathology. I chair the Medical Anthropology School at the State University. I teach Medical Examiners, Pathologists, and Researchers. I also hold a doctorate from the State University in Chemistry. Specifically, DNA. My dissertation was on the ‘Unique Components of Humanity’s DNA. Where I …”

“Thank you, Ms. Buhl. I’m sure the Court accepts you as an expert. What can you tell us about John Doe?”

“You really mean ‘Adam’s friend Baker’. That’s an old anthropology joke which has special significance here. See the Bible says Adam and Eve were the first humans. There is DNA evidence that every human is indeed descended from an ‘Adam’ and an ‘Eve’. There are obsolete DNA fragments that are identical in every human being. Your John Doe doesn’t have them. Hence we’ve identified him as ‘Adam’s friend Baker’. Adam and Baker had different parents. Completely different. He has different obsolete DNA fragments. This is science shattering. All our understanding has to change.”

“Did you autopsy John Doe’s body? And what does that tell you.”

“My Baker, your John Doe, was what one would expect as a typical American male. Except his finger prints were not on file anywhere. He’s human, but there are many uniquely strange findings. For example, his eye’s show no signs of corneal degradation due to UV sunlight. Even in a teenager, one can see sun damage that will eventually develop into cataracts; Baker’s eyes are like a newborn’s. For example, his blood chemistry is off. His Vitamin C, D, and E levels are 1000 times normal. His coronary arteries look better than a baby’s. His teeth are perfect without even a film from his last meal of fried chicken, corn, mashed potatoes, with gravy. It’s like he went from a dental cleaning to the accident.”

“Was he drunk?”

“No signs of any intoxicant or drugs in his system. With the exception, aspirin! He had high levels of that. So high as to wonder how he ingested it. He didn’t get it via the stomach becuse such a level would have burned through the lining. It’s like he’d just come from an IV infusion. I’ve cryogenically preserved everything I could for a time when our science catches up to him.”

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The Hearing / Witness #2

“Mr. DuBois, for the record, please state your credentials.” “Certainly, I’m a PhD in both Material Science and Mechanical Engineering.” “Thank you. Did you examine the car that John Doe was found in?” “Yes.” “Your findings?” “I have over 11,000 pages of findings.” “Summarize for us layman.” “John Doe’s car was not made on this planet.” “Excuse me?” “The only thing in common between this car and our planet is that the elements are the same. For example, the car is made out of “steel”. Our steel is an alloy that consists mostly of iron and has a carbon content between 0.2% and 2.1% by weight, depending on the grade. That “steel” has no carbon, but uses two .5% each harding agents of manganese and tungsten. Unheard of before. It’s lighter, stronger, and presents a completely different profile under stress. For example, John Doe’s Cadilac engine has a V-14; our “Cadilac” has had V-12 or a V-16. Never a 14. For example, the gasoline in John Doe’s tank was 104 octane and tests out to deliver 52.5 Megajoule per liter in energy. It is infused a nanostructured porous material which we believe is a lubricating fluid. Here are just three of a thousands of other world uniqueness.

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The Hearing / Witness #3

“Ms. Duchone, for the record, please state your credentials.” “Certainly, I’m the head of the FBI Identification Section and Doctor of Biometric Engineering.” “Please describe your findings.” “The car yields over 80,000 fingerprints. This contained 4,000 index fingers. We compared every print with all known sources of prints. No matches. None!” “Conclusions?” “It’s impossible.” 

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The internment

At Post 351, having be granted Guardian Ad Litem for John Doe, ‘Adam’s friend Baker’, created a tomb for him in the back parking lot where he was found.

“Here lies Baker, a truly unknown. We believe he’s a veteran, but we don’t know of what. But like all comrades in arms, even if he’s from the wrong side, we honor his service. Even though we have no clue what it was, where it was, or when it was. We honor the contribution he’s making every day to our indigent fellow vets.”

John saluted and dismissed the assembly.

Strange how things worked out. Baker was a font of discoveries. And, all the money he “earned” came to the American Legion charity fund. Too much money. So the American Legion notified all the other veterans organizations to join them in helping Baker’s fund help indigent vets. VFW, VFA, JWV … didn’t matter, Baker was a cash cow.

Funny how things end.

Where was Baker from?

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