Sord in Prosperity - Hope Beyond the Apocalypse

EP. 147 - SWAT

MY HUMBLE EFFORTS TO give you, my descendant, a picture of my life will fall short, no doubt, and it will bore you, most certainly. Who takes notice of the ramblings of a kid, a non-special kid, and what he experienced through the tumult and turmoil in the latter half of the last century? I can't possibly do justice imparting this mesh of thoughts and feelings from experiences I had as a youngster, a teenager, or even into my college years.

Those were days of unappreciated freedoms. Of responsibilities that seemed so ponderous and restrictive at the time. Only now, as I have passed what society might term 'my productive years,' do I have inclination to revert my memory to those days. To hopefully avoid rose-colored glasses, though they were rose-colored in many ways. Please forgive me for the lack of consistent storytelling, but I will do my best to cover these activities in somewhat chronological order as they come to mind.

It was a world of discovery. Perhaps every kid reflects in awe of the day or week or year. Perhaps not, though I know I did.

I previously detailed some of the most egregious, onerous, and unfortunate circumstances in which I found myself. Yet there was much more beyond that. Much, much more about the wonder and experience of living in those non-special times. Like staring into space through that thin-atmosphere sky, when few city lights obscured the Milky Way and its cousins. I imagined so much potential out there, of civilizations come and gone, existences lived and yet to live, and I carried that night sky image in my mind through every day of my life, even to this day.

Beyond the wonder of the sky, I also actively participated in what I am about to divulge. I was not simply a bystander, and I was both saintly at times and not so much at others. At that younger age, there was an innocence to it, the innocence of learning. However, I lack such innocence these days, assuming I've learned much of what there is to learn.

My understanding of heaven and Earth and God and human motivations and failings has carved me firmly into the marbled bust of an aging man to whom nobody listens, nor should they. I am utterly biased in my sense of right and wrong, of humanity's failings and inability to discipline its collective mind, greatly limit its indulgences, and strip away all burdens of individual fear and entitlement.

As mentioned earlier, I am cynical of our species' ability to successfully pass through this next Great Filter. Yet there may still be time, at least some time left, for you to understand and appreciate these other lives, these lives of generally unsupervised and somewhat fearless existence. Perhaps it was the last great window for so many in which to do so.

1962. A Catholic family with five kids our ages just moved into our neighborhood, and we took no special note. With few exceptions, the norm seemed to be five kids per family. Some families sprouted like seeds into double digit numbers, helped considerably by the preponderance of Catholics and Mormons in town.

The slowly growing hamlet was classically segregated for the times. Blacks and Hispanics lived 'south of the tracks' while Whites lived north. They all met up at the only high school in town, creating various tensions one might imagine.

Despite my father's Latino heritage, we lived on the north side of town, farther north than most. Sure, crazy shit was happening in my family's life by either intention or circumstance, but I've covered some of that already and care not to indulge further. Instead, I'll focus on the surrounds, the life outside the blue brick walls of our small, hastily constructed post-war home.

"Did you see the broken glass in the hallway on the way in from recess?" My best friend Jeffrey was asking. He and I had a bond, a strong bond, since we were the two 'out' kids in our class of fifteen boys and a similar quantity of girls.

What made us the 'out' kids was my longstanding friendship with Jeffrey, brought on by his unmatched physical skills, especially at football. His abilities were so outstanding that the class bully Douglas selected Jeffrey as his mark, the person he would vilify and harass with the cowardly comfort of having his little thug gang trailing behind him. As much as Douglas tried, however, he was no match for Jeffrey in any competition, and this bugged the hell out of the jealous, tormented youngster.