I read C.S. Lewis’ book, “The Problem of Pain” again this week, and noticed something I had merely skimmed before; the relationship between humans and animals. Professor Lewis, a far wiser man than I, declined to state specifically, whether or not he believed animals had souls, except to say that insofar as an animal has a soul, it is because of his master. That is, Dr. Lewis said that if a sheepdog can be said to be “good”, it is because the shepherd is good. Frankly, I have known some fine animals, whose masters did not seem to measure up quite so well, and in saying that I think the dogs in my life whom I have been privileged to be charged with as master, were in many ways my moral superiors. The idea, however, that animals adapt their behavior and character to humans, and perhaps even their way of thinking and identity, is to me a very good idea and worth consideration. And for this article, I take the notion a step further.
Lewis discussed the belief in some Christian circles, that the Fall of Man also led to the Fall of the Animals, a sort of explanation for why animals in the wild are cruel and vicious, killers by nature. Lewis observed that the belief was not Scriptural but simply a speculation, and in the light of the knowledge that animals almost certain preceded Man, offered his own notion – that Man was originally sent to restore the animals to their rightful relationship to God, and this is why Adam was given dominion; it was a reason for his creation. And it is not difficult to agree, that a properly responsible master cares for his pets and animals in such a way as to increase their health, comfort, and in many cases lengthen their life as far as possible. Dogs, for example, which used to live only 5 or 6 years out in the wild may expect to live an average of 13 to 15 years (depending on breed) if they are properly trained and kept by a decent owner. There are domestic dogs which have lived in excess of twenty years, something unthinkable for a wild animal. Lewis also noted that humans are able to convince animals to co-exist, from pets of different species in the same house to farms which train animals to cooperate and work together under the farmer’s command.
Animals and human relationships with them, therefore, work effectively as a kind of analogy for our own relationship with God. Not only because we humans cannot comprehend God’s wisdom and planning, so that we see things as wrong or foolish which are actually quite wise and necessary, but also the key point – we are in a condition which, however one considers it, is beyond our power to correct. Just as we accept that we need people with specialized knowledge and experience for some very serious conditions and situations, so all the more we should understand that we are in a spiritual condition which we cannot correct ourselves. Jesus once counseled a man to tear off whatever part of him caused him to sin; what if that part is our mind or heart?
So, just as our animals depend on us, and they are compelled to accept things we do that they could not possibly understand, so too we must accept that we need God, and that His will is good and loving even though we do not know why it must be so.
So, how does this translate to my dog teaching me the Gospel? Well, the thing about Christianity that gets a lot of flak, is the complaint ‘why does it have to be Christ? Can’t I learn what I need from Ghandi, or MLK, or the Buddha, or some other human teacher or great leader? And the answer must be carefully made. You see, what all great moral leaders teach is the same love and compassion; the mind, heart, and soul can reach towards God from anyone, and many do. The distinction of the Christian comes down to the ‘how’ – How can evil be undone? How can an imperfect person hope to become perfect? How can a lost dream be reclaimed? How can we, finite creatures, hope for an eternal joy? In the end, the only answer which stands up to hard and close examination, is that God paid that price for us, doing what we could not, sending His own Son as the perfect man, to live as we should, to teach what must be known, and in dying to accomplish what was beyond any other man. All we have to do is believe, trust, and obey. Dang, but that’s hard.
And that brings me to my dog. My dog is not a renowned philosopher or theologian, and no one would ever mistake her for one. But she loves without restraint or hesitation, she believes in me, trusts me in everything, and pays close attention to my commands. I’m learning a lot from my dog, which in this measure is an emissary of the Lord.
That’s how I see it, anyway.
Friday, August 24, 2007
Monday, August 20, 2007
Miles Levin
Most of you probably never heard of this brave and articulate young man. He was just 18, and passed away from alveolar rhabdomyosarcoma, a rare cancer that basically rips apart nerve tissue. He died Sunday.
What really sets Miles apart, however, is his decision on how to deal with his cancer. For the last two years, Miles blogged about his cancer, shared hope and offered consolation to thousands of readers, many who themselves were fighting Cancer or caring for loved ones in the fight.
CNN noted that Miles wrote of life and all that matters in it:
"He got sick and then better and then sick again and still managed to navigate the milestones of adolescence: keeping up in school, a first serious girlfriend, college applications, prom. He became a little famous and laughed at himself. He wrote about the value of life and somehow acquired an almost supernatural ability to appreciate small pleasures such as a sunny day and the presence of a loving family."
I thank God for such a man, and his generosity and courage of spirit. I just thought I should mention him, and suggest that we could all do with sharing hope and strength, however we may.
What really sets Miles apart, however, is his decision on how to deal with his cancer. For the last two years, Miles blogged about his cancer, shared hope and offered consolation to thousands of readers, many who themselves were fighting Cancer or caring for loved ones in the fight.
CNN noted that Miles wrote of life and all that matters in it:
"He got sick and then better and then sick again and still managed to navigate the milestones of adolescence: keeping up in school, a first serious girlfriend, college applications, prom. He became a little famous and laughed at himself. He wrote about the value of life and somehow acquired an almost supernatural ability to appreciate small pleasures such as a sunny day and the presence of a loving family."
I thank God for such a man, and his generosity and courage of spirit. I just thought I should mention him, and suggest that we could all do with sharing hope and strength, however we may.
Monday, August 13, 2007
Yoda Was Wrong
I used to love the “Star Wars” movies. The whole ‘Jedi Knight’ concept seemed very cool, very noble. And so I especially enjoyed the part of the movies, where Luke Skywalker learned from the great master Yoda, how to become a Jedi Knight. In a crucial scene, Luke complains that he is trying hard, to which Yoda replies
“Do … or do not. There is no try.”
Sounds profound, doesn’t it, a zen kind of wisdom that suggests a deep knowledge of people and reality. But in fact, it’s a crock, a superficial statement that sounds smooth and thoughtful, but really does not ring true when you think about it. Kind of like a Barack Obama speech, come to that.
You see, to try is to make the effort. Nothing, and I mean nothing, happens unless that effort is made. And trying often means failing. Remember learning how to walk, or try to teach it to your kids? Lots of falling down, and getting back up – to try again, over and over again until you can do it. Life is all about trying.
If you do not try, there is no doing. Don’t listen to the puppet.
“Do … or do not. There is no try.”
Sounds profound, doesn’t it, a zen kind of wisdom that suggests a deep knowledge of people and reality. But in fact, it’s a crock, a superficial statement that sounds smooth and thoughtful, but really does not ring true when you think about it. Kind of like a Barack Obama speech, come to that.
You see, to try is to make the effort. Nothing, and I mean nothing, happens unless that effort is made. And trying often means failing. Remember learning how to walk, or try to teach it to your kids? Lots of falling down, and getting back up – to try again, over and over again until you can do it. Life is all about trying.
If you do not try, there is no doing. Don’t listen to the puppet.
Saturday, August 11, 2007
The Mechanics of Money
I was considering a Bible verse the other day, where Jesus warned His disciples that the poor would always be with them. As one of those people who considers Scripture to be trustworthy, I found that statement just a bit odd. For thousands of years, people have been trying to eliminate poverty, and with good reason; moral people hate to see folks suffer, and poverty is a most cruel burden on people. Also, even those people who do not carry much love for their fellow man, understand that people enduring poverty are not able to contribute effectively to society and the commonwealth. There has been, therefore, a prolonged significant effort to raise the living conditions in almost every country. Even tyrants have come to understand that starvation and deprivation drive the people to drastic measures. Yet, for all the many ideas and programs, people continue to live in poverty in every nation on the globe. The poor, indeed, are always with us.
Modern Economics, however, is finally able to show some of why this happens. There is a minimum level for survival, consisting of a certain degree of food, shelter, clothing, hygiene, and medical care. We can call this a subsistence level. The significance of poverty is that the poverty level determined in most modern calculations is at a higher standard of living than mere subsistence. This is not due to some soft-hearted notion that luxury is a need, but rather that there is a point of means, below which a person cannot maintain provision for the future. That is, a single catastrophic event such as an accident, serious illness or natural disaster could kill this person, not to the degree of probability that a normal person would die, but at a much greater mechanism of probability. Hurricane Katrina is a good example of this effect; Hurricanes do not arrive without warning, and those people who had the means to evacuate in their own vehicles and to property in safer areas did so on their own power; the people who did not evacuate were largely those people who did not understand the threat sufficiently to plan for protection (intellectual poverty), or they lacked the means to evacuate, and had no choice but to try to ride out the storm where they were. The significance of this phenomenon, is that poverty exists as a combination of monetary limits, environmental factors, personal psychology and education. Throughout History, people who have climbed from poverty to the Middle Class and above, have done so by changing two of those planes of existence; education and psychology. Monetary limits turn out to be minor in the long-term scheme; people can and do overcome hard financial times if they have the education and the confidence, work ethic, and determination, but those who do not have those elements do not rise out of poverty, even when substantial financial support is provided, as LBJ’s “War on Poverty” proved.
For many people, the environmental factors turn out to be the wild card. Many children are optimistic and confident, and it appears that their success is simply a matter of effort and time, yet this turns out not to be true all of the time. On this point both Democrats and Republicans have the same goal, though widely different strategies for improving the opportunities for poor individuals to succeed financially. The question seems in many cases to turn on the peer groups chosen; far too many young people pursue convenience, luxury, and entertainment rather than investment and savings, and as a result they become dependent on their job for a prolonged portion of their lives, in many cases never building the foundation to start their own company or enjoy substantial returns on investments. Personal financial success in the United States often comes down to a simple equation based on a balance of savings and sound investments.
Modern Economics, however, is finally able to show some of why this happens. There is a minimum level for survival, consisting of a certain degree of food, shelter, clothing, hygiene, and medical care. We can call this a subsistence level. The significance of poverty is that the poverty level determined in most modern calculations is at a higher standard of living than mere subsistence. This is not due to some soft-hearted notion that luxury is a need, but rather that there is a point of means, below which a person cannot maintain provision for the future. That is, a single catastrophic event such as an accident, serious illness or natural disaster could kill this person, not to the degree of probability that a normal person would die, but at a much greater mechanism of probability. Hurricane Katrina is a good example of this effect; Hurricanes do not arrive without warning, and those people who had the means to evacuate in their own vehicles and to property in safer areas did so on their own power; the people who did not evacuate were largely those people who did not understand the threat sufficiently to plan for protection (intellectual poverty), or they lacked the means to evacuate, and had no choice but to try to ride out the storm where they were. The significance of this phenomenon, is that poverty exists as a combination of monetary limits, environmental factors, personal psychology and education. Throughout History, people who have climbed from poverty to the Middle Class and above, have done so by changing two of those planes of existence; education and psychology. Monetary limits turn out to be minor in the long-term scheme; people can and do overcome hard financial times if they have the education and the confidence, work ethic, and determination, but those who do not have those elements do not rise out of poverty, even when substantial financial support is provided, as LBJ’s “War on Poverty” proved.
For many people, the environmental factors turn out to be the wild card. Many children are optimistic and confident, and it appears that their success is simply a matter of effort and time, yet this turns out not to be true all of the time. On this point both Democrats and Republicans have the same goal, though widely different strategies for improving the opportunities for poor individuals to succeed financially. The question seems in many cases to turn on the peer groups chosen; far too many young people pursue convenience, luxury, and entertainment rather than investment and savings, and as a result they become dependent on their job for a prolonged portion of their lives, in many cases never building the foundation to start their own company or enjoy substantial returns on investments. Personal financial success in the United States often comes down to a simple equation based on a balance of savings and sound investments.
Friday, August 10, 2007
Lawyer Arrogance, Snape-Sniping, and Some Thoughts on Graduate School
WARNING – This post contains spoilers for the Harry Potter final book, so if you have not read “Deathly Hallows” and want to be surprised, this is your warning.
A number of you kind readers have asked how the lawyers at the other site where I initially created the story have responded to my question about intellectual property and posting a story for public reading. The short answer is, they have decided not to respond at all, and on reflection it makes sense, though it displays poor moral standards. You see, if the lawyers respond that they would allow me to post the story on their site while considering it my property, they would be as much as admitting that they do not have a right to ideas and creations which they had no substantive part in making, and anyone else might demand the same by equal right. The argument that anything published on their site is their property, is as flawed and arrogant as it would be for the train line which President Lincoln took on his way to Gettysburg to claim that they held the rights to his Gettysburg Address, simply because he wrote the speech while on their train. It is as silly as if CBS claimed the right to those speeches by Dr. Martin Luther King, Junior, which they happened to broadcast. It’s a greedy lie and they know it, but they can hardly admit that, especially in writing. On the other hand, to publicly demand rights to something they cannot possibly prove they created or even contributed to in any real sense, is to expose themselves to well-deserved ridicule. So, what to do if you are an immoral shyster for a greedy corporation? You simply ignore anything not compelled by a court, and that’s what they did here. So, the advice from Hatman was salient and very useful, and to anyone considering expressing themselves in a way which may be personally significant, they should be wary of the greed of the host site.
I decided a few days ago, that the theme of ‘Stolen Thunder’ is ill-suited to fiction as a regular feature, and that the unfolding series story “Reditio Soteri” was not something which seemed to fit. I have decided to continue the story at an alternate site, ‘Laughing at Nemesis’, which will be linked on the ST sidebar. A complete story from 2004, “Loco Fundy Judgment Day”, is there, and “Reditio Soteri” will be published there as well. Later, probably in 2008, a third story should join the first two.
On now to Harry Potter. There is a popular site for Potter fans, which debates almost every conceivable angle to the story, and now that the last volume of the series has been published, it might be expected that the debates would subside. But people grow to love their arguments, and one of the most popular passions on that site is Snape-hating; that is, finding reasons and excuses to say nasty things about the character Severus Snape, the erstwhile Professor of Potions at Hogwarts School of Magic for Wizards and Witches. That’s understandable to a point, but the final book made clear, beyond reasonable dispute, that Severus Snape had valid reasons for his temperament, and more to the point was the bravest warrior for the cause of Good and Hope, and he was unquestionably a hero, if not the most predictable or warm-fuzzy type in the series. The Snape haters, however, have had a hard time letting go of their malice against the guy, and what’s worse, a number of the moderators have shown clear bias in the debates. One thread which discussed the relationship between Severus Snape and Lily Evans, a crucial foundation for most of the salient events of the series, was locked down when the people supporting Snape began to gain the upper hand against the lies and distortions of the Snape haters. The moderator locking down the thread claimed it was to cool down emotions, although the only posts edited or deleted were by Snape supporters, and some of what was deleted was in no way out of bounds. Snape haters, on the other hand, were allowed to post false and defamatory statements, which the moderators chose to leave posted, proving their bias and bigotry. Hey, it’s a private site, they can do what they want, but it is very intriguing to see adults act in such a dishonest and malicious manner, simply because they cannot stand to be proven wrong. I will leave that be for here, but it does occur to me to discuss some of the complexities of Severus Snape.
The interesting thing about Severus Snape is not that he is uniformly good or bad, but he is a mixture of different qualities, some are reasonable and desirable, while others are still quite nasty. His verbal bullying of students, for instance. Even with what we know now, there is really no cause for his behavior, beyond the rather lame idea that Severus had to act in character for Lord Voldemort. Severus clearly disliked children in general, he had little patience or admiration for hs colleagues at Hogwarts, and he never liked Harry Potter or his friends. That said, it is obvious that by the beginning of Harry’s years at Hogwarts, Severus had been through a lot of hardship, and he was operating under certain restrictions and conditions which could not be publicly stated to Harry. It gets trickier, when we consider the childhood and development of Severus. We have a limited number of witnesses’ statements to use, generally the untrustworthy claims made by Sirius Black, whom we know for certain intended to murder Severus Snape while at Hogwarts (which puts paid to those haughty claims that Gryffindors are always better than Slytherins, but since Wormtail was also a Gryffindor, we should have seen that coming), and Remus Lupin, also a Marauder and close friend to James Potter, now proven to have been a boor and a bully while he was at Hogwarts. I stop here to note that James and Sirius prove out that the Wizarding world, just like the one we know, is quite willing to give a pass to the handsome and the charming and the rich, but they come down hard on those who lack superficial beauty and money. Severus was handicapped from the beginning. We also have the pensieve scenes, which while brief and limited, also give us insight into the conditions and range of options available to young Severus.
Let’s start with the family home. Severus’ mother and father seem to be in constant argument, and it strongly appears that Severus was neglected. Some of that was simple poverty, but it also seems that Severus was never much loved by his parents, a critical loss which Severus felt throughout his life. We also see why he was immediately attracted to Lily from the start; any kind of regard would be amplified, and it seems that Severus shoved any emotion to extremes, you were either his best friend or worst enemy. This also explains, assuming Sirius was honest in the claim, why Severus knew so many curses and hexes by the time he got to Hogwarts – with no one protecting him, he found himself under constant attack. The condition of perpetual imminent threat is a hallmark of Severus Snape.
I also find it necessary to take Lily Evans down from her pedestal. Throughout the story, everyone seemed to love Lily Evans/Potter. Harry, of course, loved his mother, and we are told, over and over again, how smart and vivacious and beautiful she was. And in the last book we see that Severus was utterly devoted to her, so that he spent nearly the last two decades of his life trying to be worthy of her. But the Lily we discover behind the make-up is not nearly so worthy of Severus. Over and over again, in the relationship between Severus and Lily we find that she was born and raised with all kinds of advantages, which she never shared with Severus or indeed seemed to notice. We see, over and over again, Severus Snape reaching out to Lily Evans and caring for her feelings and emotions, but Lily never does as much. At their first meeting, it is Severus who steps forward and speaks, it is Severus who comforts Lily when her sister Petunia ridicules her, it is Severus on the train who cheers Lily up and reminds her about Hogwarts. Although both of the two certainly endured ridicule for their friendship from students in their respective Houses, Lily is the one who complains about it to Severus, who never even observes that he too is mocked for the friendship (unless you want to believe that a Gryffindor would be less considerate than a Slytherin). When they have a disagreement, it is always Severus who steps forward, apologizes, and tries to make amends. Lily has friends she never introduces to Severus, she is aware that James Potter attacks Severus but she never directly acts on Severus’ behalf – a careful examination of the ‘Snape’s Worst Memory’ not only shows that Lily Evans never even attempts to stop the hex attacks on Severus, nor that she smiles slightly at her “best friend” being attacked for no provocation at all, but also we see that Lily never even says directly that Severus is a friend – she could have ended the attack in an instant simply by telling the Marauders that they were attacking a friend of hers. That she chose not to do so, displays a poor character in that respect. Lily Evans was happy to take, to receive enjoyable things and love those people who suited her to know. Lily Evans knew only selfish love, never putting herself to any trouble except for people she already liked, and she was quite willing to throw away her best friend, rather than take the time to consider his needs and give him better options and hope. Only two possibilities exist; either Lily Evans never bothered to think much about why Severus Snape made the kinds of choices he did, or she never considered him worth the effort. Lazy or cruel, two moral destinations that do not speak well of the woman.
This does not excuse Severus’ own flaws and wrongs, to be sure. But on the whole, he was much ill-used and given little on which to build his life; surely he was starved of love and joy. That he could create a Patronus, speaks of a great heart, though one the world never knew.
Now on to Graduate School. I have my Summer Grades at last, but I have held off writing much about them, because just writing for the letters on the screen seems foolish. I did manage to get A’s for all three classes this semester, so the GPA is up to 3.83, though whether that is an accurate reflection or a lucky quirk after 2 semesters remains to be seen. Now that I have handled six classes, however, a pattern is becoming evident. There are differences in classes depending on the material, the professor’s style, and the time available, but in all six classes there was a Mid-term examination, a major case or paper to work on, and a certain degree of group work and board discussion. I want to emphasize that last part for online studies; nothing is more significant about taking classes online, than the two legs that you must be independently disciplined, and that your contribution to the class will be known down to the second every word of your participation. The online class will track your every comment and effort, and so slackers will do poorly in the online environment. Also, while some professors tend to back-load the grades, so that a lot of your work will receive its grade late in the semester, I have noticed that in every class where I held a strong average through the Mid-term exam grade, the rest of the semester was similarly strong, while early problems in a class make the rest of the semester more stressful and accomplishing the ‘A’ more difficult. Improvement is certainly possible; in five out of my six classes so far, my results for the second half of the semester were better than for the first half, but psychologically it is easier to work from a position of strength, and the plain fact is that a good start makes a good finish more likely to happen. So, if you want to do well in a class, get in early with readings and assignments, work the early assignments as if they will make the difference between an A and a B in the class, because it very well might be so.
A number of you kind readers have asked how the lawyers at the other site where I initially created the story have responded to my question about intellectual property and posting a story for public reading. The short answer is, they have decided not to respond at all, and on reflection it makes sense, though it displays poor moral standards. You see, if the lawyers respond that they would allow me to post the story on their site while considering it my property, they would be as much as admitting that they do not have a right to ideas and creations which they had no substantive part in making, and anyone else might demand the same by equal right. The argument that anything published on their site is their property, is as flawed and arrogant as it would be for the train line which President Lincoln took on his way to Gettysburg to claim that they held the rights to his Gettysburg Address, simply because he wrote the speech while on their train. It is as silly as if CBS claimed the right to those speeches by Dr. Martin Luther King, Junior, which they happened to broadcast. It’s a greedy lie and they know it, but they can hardly admit that, especially in writing. On the other hand, to publicly demand rights to something they cannot possibly prove they created or even contributed to in any real sense, is to expose themselves to well-deserved ridicule. So, what to do if you are an immoral shyster for a greedy corporation? You simply ignore anything not compelled by a court, and that’s what they did here. So, the advice from Hatman was salient and very useful, and to anyone considering expressing themselves in a way which may be personally significant, they should be wary of the greed of the host site.
I decided a few days ago, that the theme of ‘Stolen Thunder’ is ill-suited to fiction as a regular feature, and that the unfolding series story “Reditio Soteri” was not something which seemed to fit. I have decided to continue the story at an alternate site, ‘Laughing at Nemesis’, which will be linked on the ST sidebar. A complete story from 2004, “Loco Fundy Judgment Day”, is there, and “Reditio Soteri” will be published there as well. Later, probably in 2008, a third story should join the first two.
On now to Harry Potter. There is a popular site for Potter fans, which debates almost every conceivable angle to the story, and now that the last volume of the series has been published, it might be expected that the debates would subside. But people grow to love their arguments, and one of the most popular passions on that site is Snape-hating; that is, finding reasons and excuses to say nasty things about the character Severus Snape, the erstwhile Professor of Potions at Hogwarts School of Magic for Wizards and Witches. That’s understandable to a point, but the final book made clear, beyond reasonable dispute, that Severus Snape had valid reasons for his temperament, and more to the point was the bravest warrior for the cause of Good and Hope, and he was unquestionably a hero, if not the most predictable or warm-fuzzy type in the series. The Snape haters, however, have had a hard time letting go of their malice against the guy, and what’s worse, a number of the moderators have shown clear bias in the debates. One thread which discussed the relationship between Severus Snape and Lily Evans, a crucial foundation for most of the salient events of the series, was locked down when the people supporting Snape began to gain the upper hand against the lies and distortions of the Snape haters. The moderator locking down the thread claimed it was to cool down emotions, although the only posts edited or deleted were by Snape supporters, and some of what was deleted was in no way out of bounds. Snape haters, on the other hand, were allowed to post false and defamatory statements, which the moderators chose to leave posted, proving their bias and bigotry. Hey, it’s a private site, they can do what they want, but it is very intriguing to see adults act in such a dishonest and malicious manner, simply because they cannot stand to be proven wrong. I will leave that be for here, but it does occur to me to discuss some of the complexities of Severus Snape.
The interesting thing about Severus Snape is not that he is uniformly good or bad, but he is a mixture of different qualities, some are reasonable and desirable, while others are still quite nasty. His verbal bullying of students, for instance. Even with what we know now, there is really no cause for his behavior, beyond the rather lame idea that Severus had to act in character for Lord Voldemort. Severus clearly disliked children in general, he had little patience or admiration for hs colleagues at Hogwarts, and he never liked Harry Potter or his friends. That said, it is obvious that by the beginning of Harry’s years at Hogwarts, Severus had been through a lot of hardship, and he was operating under certain restrictions and conditions which could not be publicly stated to Harry. It gets trickier, when we consider the childhood and development of Severus. We have a limited number of witnesses’ statements to use, generally the untrustworthy claims made by Sirius Black, whom we know for certain intended to murder Severus Snape while at Hogwarts (which puts paid to those haughty claims that Gryffindors are always better than Slytherins, but since Wormtail was also a Gryffindor, we should have seen that coming), and Remus Lupin, also a Marauder and close friend to James Potter, now proven to have been a boor and a bully while he was at Hogwarts. I stop here to note that James and Sirius prove out that the Wizarding world, just like the one we know, is quite willing to give a pass to the handsome and the charming and the rich, but they come down hard on those who lack superficial beauty and money. Severus was handicapped from the beginning. We also have the pensieve scenes, which while brief and limited, also give us insight into the conditions and range of options available to young Severus.
Let’s start with the family home. Severus’ mother and father seem to be in constant argument, and it strongly appears that Severus was neglected. Some of that was simple poverty, but it also seems that Severus was never much loved by his parents, a critical loss which Severus felt throughout his life. We also see why he was immediately attracted to Lily from the start; any kind of regard would be amplified, and it seems that Severus shoved any emotion to extremes, you were either his best friend or worst enemy. This also explains, assuming Sirius was honest in the claim, why Severus knew so many curses and hexes by the time he got to Hogwarts – with no one protecting him, he found himself under constant attack. The condition of perpetual imminent threat is a hallmark of Severus Snape.
I also find it necessary to take Lily Evans down from her pedestal. Throughout the story, everyone seemed to love Lily Evans/Potter. Harry, of course, loved his mother, and we are told, over and over again, how smart and vivacious and beautiful she was. And in the last book we see that Severus was utterly devoted to her, so that he spent nearly the last two decades of his life trying to be worthy of her. But the Lily we discover behind the make-up is not nearly so worthy of Severus. Over and over again, in the relationship between Severus and Lily we find that she was born and raised with all kinds of advantages, which she never shared with Severus or indeed seemed to notice. We see, over and over again, Severus Snape reaching out to Lily Evans and caring for her feelings and emotions, but Lily never does as much. At their first meeting, it is Severus who steps forward and speaks, it is Severus who comforts Lily when her sister Petunia ridicules her, it is Severus on the train who cheers Lily up and reminds her about Hogwarts. Although both of the two certainly endured ridicule for their friendship from students in their respective Houses, Lily is the one who complains about it to Severus, who never even observes that he too is mocked for the friendship (unless you want to believe that a Gryffindor would be less considerate than a Slytherin). When they have a disagreement, it is always Severus who steps forward, apologizes, and tries to make amends. Lily has friends she never introduces to Severus, she is aware that James Potter attacks Severus but she never directly acts on Severus’ behalf – a careful examination of the ‘Snape’s Worst Memory’ not only shows that Lily Evans never even attempts to stop the hex attacks on Severus, nor that she smiles slightly at her “best friend” being attacked for no provocation at all, but also we see that Lily never even says directly that Severus is a friend – she could have ended the attack in an instant simply by telling the Marauders that they were attacking a friend of hers. That she chose not to do so, displays a poor character in that respect. Lily Evans was happy to take, to receive enjoyable things and love those people who suited her to know. Lily Evans knew only selfish love, never putting herself to any trouble except for people she already liked, and she was quite willing to throw away her best friend, rather than take the time to consider his needs and give him better options and hope. Only two possibilities exist; either Lily Evans never bothered to think much about why Severus Snape made the kinds of choices he did, or she never considered him worth the effort. Lazy or cruel, two moral destinations that do not speak well of the woman.
This does not excuse Severus’ own flaws and wrongs, to be sure. But on the whole, he was much ill-used and given little on which to build his life; surely he was starved of love and joy. That he could create a Patronus, speaks of a great heart, though one the world never knew.
Now on to Graduate School. I have my Summer Grades at last, but I have held off writing much about them, because just writing for the letters on the screen seems foolish. I did manage to get A’s for all three classes this semester, so the GPA is up to 3.83, though whether that is an accurate reflection or a lucky quirk after 2 semesters remains to be seen. Now that I have handled six classes, however, a pattern is becoming evident. There are differences in classes depending on the material, the professor’s style, and the time available, but in all six classes there was a Mid-term examination, a major case or paper to work on, and a certain degree of group work and board discussion. I want to emphasize that last part for online studies; nothing is more significant about taking classes online, than the two legs that you must be independently disciplined, and that your contribution to the class will be known down to the second every word of your participation. The online class will track your every comment and effort, and so slackers will do poorly in the online environment. Also, while some professors tend to back-load the grades, so that a lot of your work will receive its grade late in the semester, I have noticed that in every class where I held a strong average through the Mid-term exam grade, the rest of the semester was similarly strong, while early problems in a class make the rest of the semester more stressful and accomplishing the ‘A’ more difficult. Improvement is certainly possible; in five out of my six classes so far, my results for the second half of the semester were better than for the first half, but psychologically it is easier to work from a position of strength, and the plain fact is that a good start makes a good finish more likely to happen. So, if you want to do well in a class, get in early with readings and assignments, work the early assignments as if they will make the difference between an A and a B in the class, because it very well might be so.
Wednesday, August 08, 2007
August 8 Update - Kill the Fiction
Well, writing fiction doesn't seem to be what is wanted here, so I will be writing off-line. Sorry for the two or three people who were enjoying Reditio Soteri.
Grades for the summer are finally all in. Three A's so I now have a 3.83 GPA, but I won't blog on that until I can present the results in a form which might be useful to someone.
I plan to blog on the trends from U.S. Presidential elections in the next few days, as well as some observations on Economics. Please feel free to mention anything you'd like to read about. One of the things about only having a few regular readers, is that I really do care about what you want.
Grades for the summer are finally all in. Three A's so I now have a 3.83 GPA, but I won't blog on that until I can present the results in a form which might be useful to someone.
I plan to blog on the trends from U.S. Presidential elections in the next few days, as well as some observations on Economics. Please feel free to mention anything you'd like to read about. One of the things about only having a few regular readers, is that I really do care about what you want.
Tuesday, August 07, 2007
Government Economics – Why Lowering Taxes Means More Revenue
The August 5 debate of Republican candidates for the office of President of the United States had a number of interesting points, but one of the most intriguing came when a reporter tried to imply to Rudy Giuliani that raising taxes was the only way to provide sufficient revenues for things like bridge repair and infrastructure maintenance. Giuliani called the question a “knee-jerk liberal response”, and explained that the key is providing revenue, not pursuing a desire tp punish success.
As an example, let’s look at fiscal 2006. The U.S. Treasury Department reports that 2.4 Trillion dollars were received for fiscal year 2006, an 11.7% increase from fiscal 2005 and a 35.9% increase from fiscal 2003. The gist of that data proves that despite lowering federal income taxes, more money has been coming in. This is a peculiar effect, but it’s been shown before, under Kennedy and Reagan before Dubya tried it again. It seems reasonable to me, to examine the function of this effect.
Let’s start with that 2.4 Trillion dollars. That’s $2,400,000,000,000. Lot of zeroes, hmm? The U.S. population just kicked over 300 million this year, so that works out to $8,000 in federal taxes for every man, woman, and child in the United States. I didn’t pay $8K in federal taxes last year, how about you? And in fact, when we consider that the actual pool of taxpayers is much smaller than the 300 million people living here, round about 132.8 million people according to the IRS, so that means our average is really about eighteen thousand dollars per taxpayer. And no, I don’ think many taxpayers actually put out that much, either. So what’s going on? It may seem at first that the high-wage taxpayers are really getting socked, and they are, but really, when it’s all sorted out, what happens at the federal level is similar to what happens at the state, county, and city levels; it’s business where a lot of that money is made, and in short, if a business is healthy and successful, it pays more in taxes. With me so far?
OK, so it’s in government’s interest for businesses in general to succeed. So how does that work, exactly? It begins with the fact that taxes can only be applied to money which is used. That is, mechanisms like Sales Tax and Excise Taxes and so on, can only be applied when money is used in commerce. Employment taxes and withholding can only be done when employees are actually hired and paid. And since so many taxes are proportional to the level of commerce, the more business a company does, the more taxes it pays.
So what does raising or lowering taxes have to do with increasing revenues? Well, where do you think the money that comes into a business is originated? It comes from the consumers, of course. If the consumers feel times are tight and uncertain, of course they will not be interested in spending money, it’s just too risky, which attitude naturally slows down the economy. And when the economy slows down, so does tax revenue. Now, when on the other hand taxes are lowered, this provides taxpayers with more money, and a lot of that gets spent, which revs up the economy … and in spite of the lower rate, increases the amount of money which comes in to the government. It’s the same reason why stores put products on sale; the lower price is made up and more by the jump in volume sales if the manager has planned it right. Basic economics, really.
As an example, let’s look at fiscal 2006. The U.S. Treasury Department reports that 2.4 Trillion dollars were received for fiscal year 2006, an 11.7% increase from fiscal 2005 and a 35.9% increase from fiscal 2003. The gist of that data proves that despite lowering federal income taxes, more money has been coming in. This is a peculiar effect, but it’s been shown before, under Kennedy and Reagan before Dubya tried it again. It seems reasonable to me, to examine the function of this effect.
Let’s start with that 2.4 Trillion dollars. That’s $2,400,000,000,000. Lot of zeroes, hmm? The U.S. population just kicked over 300 million this year, so that works out to $8,000 in federal taxes for every man, woman, and child in the United States. I didn’t pay $8K in federal taxes last year, how about you? And in fact, when we consider that the actual pool of taxpayers is much smaller than the 300 million people living here, round about 132.8 million people according to the IRS, so that means our average is really about eighteen thousand dollars per taxpayer. And no, I don’ think many taxpayers actually put out that much, either. So what’s going on? It may seem at first that the high-wage taxpayers are really getting socked, and they are, but really, when it’s all sorted out, what happens at the federal level is similar to what happens at the state, county, and city levels; it’s business where a lot of that money is made, and in short, if a business is healthy and successful, it pays more in taxes. With me so far?
OK, so it’s in government’s interest for businesses in general to succeed. So how does that work, exactly? It begins with the fact that taxes can only be applied to money which is used. That is, mechanisms like Sales Tax and Excise Taxes and so on, can only be applied when money is used in commerce. Employment taxes and withholding can only be done when employees are actually hired and paid. And since so many taxes are proportional to the level of commerce, the more business a company does, the more taxes it pays.
So what does raising or lowering taxes have to do with increasing revenues? Well, where do you think the money that comes into a business is originated? It comes from the consumers, of course. If the consumers feel times are tight and uncertain, of course they will not be interested in spending money, it’s just too risky, which attitude naturally slows down the economy. And when the economy slows down, so does tax revenue. Now, when on the other hand taxes are lowered, this provides taxpayers with more money, and a lot of that gets spent, which revs up the economy … and in spite of the lower rate, increases the amount of money which comes in to the government. It’s the same reason why stores put products on sale; the lower price is made up and more by the jump in volume sales if the manager has planned it right. Basic economics, really.
Sunday, August 05, 2007
The 2004 US Presidential Election – Another Look at the Numbers
I have been reading up on US Presidential elections recently – or, to be accurate, I have been trying to find articles on recent elections, but have been disappointed with the poor quality of analysis done by scholars. What has happened, not only during the Bush Administration, but the Clinton Administration before it, is that researchers have discovered that “peer review” can be a very lenient thing if your peers share the same biases you carry yourself. And no, that’s not to say that the researchers lean one direction politically, nearly so much as it seems they are always looking for hot new trends, and therefore little testing of assumptions is made. The 2004 election, therefore, has seen little serious examination, and given the present position I would argue that leaves room for a more open and productive discussion. I would be arrogant indeed if I proposed that I could write the definitive examination of that election, so I will simply attempt to add to the discussion, and for that I have simply been looking at the hardest of numbers, popular vote results. Strange as it may seem, even the most experienced of election analysts may forget that the election of the President of the United States is not one election, but is dependant on the results of 51 separate state and district elections. Consequently, while it may be more difficult to evaluate and even more so to explain, the separate results from each state and the District of Columbia must be evaluated in distinction.
One of the most obvious things from the 2004 election, was that both the Republican and Democrat candidates enjoyed more votes than their nominees enjoyed in 2000; turnout was obviously superior for the national totals. But a more interesting result occurs, when the percentage of the popular vote each candidate collected is considered for each state. Of the 51 contests, the Democrats’ candidate improved his share of the popular vote in 21 states, maintained the same proportion in 11 others, and was lower in the remaining 19 states. The Republicans’ nominee improved his share in 43 states, maintained the same proportion in 6 others, and was lower in just 2 states. This illustrates both the frustration in the Democrats’ camp, as well as their myopia; both parties were able to improve their share of the popular vote in 2004 from 2000 in 13 states, because the increased focus on partisanship reduced interest in minor-party candidates. Therefore, improvement in the share of the popular vote in a state did not necessarily mean winning more states. The Democrats failed to understand this at the time of the election.
The results of the 2006 mid-term elections show the same effect in another light; the increased partisanship meant that if one major party suffered a loss of confidence in voter support, the other major party would benefit by that margin, which is what happened. The Democrats remained focused, and voters who supported Democrats in 2004 did so again in 2006. However, demoralized Republicans failed to support GOP incumbents to the degree they did in 2004, and this was the decisive margin in many contests. The demonstrated lesson of heightened party polarity is that driving voters to the major parties by reason of a “crucial” decision, requires the same or greater effort to get out the vote in subsequent elections, and at some point the effort must invariably fail, generally at the cost of the party in control. Whether this effect is only general or will also apply to the White House contest in 2008, must be considered according to the needs of that event. The purpose of this article is to show that this effect exists; subsequent analysis may or may not display evidence for trends or prediction.
One of the most obvious things from the 2004 election, was that both the Republican and Democrat candidates enjoyed more votes than their nominees enjoyed in 2000; turnout was obviously superior for the national totals. But a more interesting result occurs, when the percentage of the popular vote each candidate collected is considered for each state. Of the 51 contests, the Democrats’ candidate improved his share of the popular vote in 21 states, maintained the same proportion in 11 others, and was lower in the remaining 19 states. The Republicans’ nominee improved his share in 43 states, maintained the same proportion in 6 others, and was lower in just 2 states. This illustrates both the frustration in the Democrats’ camp, as well as their myopia; both parties were able to improve their share of the popular vote in 2004 from 2000 in 13 states, because the increased focus on partisanship reduced interest in minor-party candidates. Therefore, improvement in the share of the popular vote in a state did not necessarily mean winning more states. The Democrats failed to understand this at the time of the election.
The results of the 2006 mid-term elections show the same effect in another light; the increased partisanship meant that if one major party suffered a loss of confidence in voter support, the other major party would benefit by that margin, which is what happened. The Democrats remained focused, and voters who supported Democrats in 2004 did so again in 2006. However, demoralized Republicans failed to support GOP incumbents to the degree they did in 2004, and this was the decisive margin in many contests. The demonstrated lesson of heightened party polarity is that driving voters to the major parties by reason of a “crucial” decision, requires the same or greater effort to get out the vote in subsequent elections, and at some point the effort must invariably fail, generally at the cost of the party in control. Whether this effect is only general or will also apply to the White House contest in 2008, must be considered according to the needs of that event. The purpose of this article is to show that this effect exists; subsequent analysis may or may not display evidence for trends or prediction.
Wednesday, August 01, 2007
Ow.
Not that there is great demand for it, but some of you may have noticed that I have not posted much in the last few days. During that time, I have
Taken two final exams
finished a term paper
finished two case studies
performed a number of regular duties
... and I dropped a piano on my foot.
That last one has made it difficult to focus on cogent analysis of the world we discuss here.
To paraphrase, Ahhnuld, Ah'll be-bahk. Just not yet.
Taken two final exams
finished a term paper
finished two case studies
performed a number of regular duties
... and I dropped a piano on my foot.
That last one has made it difficult to focus on cogent analysis of the world we discuss here.
To paraphrase, Ahhnuld, Ah'll be-bahk. Just not yet.
Monday, July 30, 2007
The Reconciliation
(WARNING – POTTER SPOILERS)
Harry had not been to many funerals in his life, though now it seemed there were funerals everyday which required his attendance. He could not begrudge the requests; in many cases he had been friends with the deceased, and even where he had not been close to the one who died, it seemed everyone took comfort in his presence at him being at the funeral. So Harry made time, and Ginny accepted this as right and necessary for the most part. Until it was time for the funeral of one whose death Harry once thought he would be glad to hear about. Certainly Ginny did not like the idea of Harry going to his funeral.
“Harry, he hated you,” said Ginny for what seemed the hundredth time. “If it was your funeral, he would only have come to mock the mouners.”
“I have to go, Ginny” said Harry, simply. To tell the truth, Harry was not sure how he felt about this man. Yes, he had been brave, but that did not change how he had acted towards Harry all those years, and yes, Ginny may well have been right, that so long as it was not his direct fault, the man might have enjoyed Harry dying.
But maybe not. Something had changed in him, just as Harry had changed, and whatever that something was, it commanded respect, certainly enough to mean Harry had to go to his funeral.
The funeral was held in, of all things, the Library at Hogwarts. This seemed extremely strange to Harry, and he had no idea whose idea it was to have the service here, but here he was, the body laid out on a table in a formal fashion, as though the dead man was the subject of a lecture to be held.
It was a depressing atmosphere, Harry sensed. Partly because there were so few people to mourn this man; he had never been popular, and even the proof of his honor and bravery against Voldemort was not sufficient to bring many to regard him before the destruction of his body. As Harry entered the room for the service, he glanced around and saw the Malfoys, who ignored him, a woman dressed all in black who seemed devastated with grief, although with her veil and formal dress, Harry could not be sure who it was, and – strangely enough – Hagrid, who took up three chairs. Harry went to sit next to Hagrid.
Hagrid leaned over towards Harry and said, “Ah told yeh he was loyal, Harry.”
“Yes, Hagrid,” agreed Harry, “you were right.”
And the service began. From somewhere, strange sad music began, stringed instruments of an orchestra and a cornet, and somehow Harry knew it was “The Vanished Gardens of Cordoba” by Ray Lynch, a muggle musician and composer. The tune was fitting, solemn and somehow noble, and Harry somehow knew that Severus had chosen this music. Had he known how few people would come to his funeral? Probably, thought Harry to himself. Severus never cultivated friends, and he must have known that his funeral would be a sad and lonely thing. Rather like the man.
There were no words.
At first, this seemed odd to Harry, but then he realized there was really nothing to say. If you wanted to say good-bye, this was the time, and it was not something to script. The wrongs done by Severus Snape would not be unmade by a service, and what good there was to him was set out, unvarnished, without embellishment. There was a quiet dignity to him in that respect, no pretense, no cosmetic attempt to be something other than simply what he was.
The music rose to a climax, as if something significant were meant to happen, and at that moment Harry heard a movement at the doorway behind him, and he turned, and was surprised to see Nevillle Longbottom and Kingsley Shacklebolt enter the chamber, each of them strangely formal in their dress, their manners, and their movements. The two men paced forward, stopped before the body, and the Minister of Magic turned to Neville, who paused.
Neville looked at Snape’s face, his jaw working as if he was momentarily torn in his choice. Harry saw a flash of emotion, anger and distaste mixed with something else, but in a moment he was calm again, with a short nod, reached to his side and withdrew the Sword of Godric Gryffindor, which he extended hilt-first to the Minister.
Kingsley Shackleford extended the sword’s blade towards the face of Severus Snape, and for a moment Harry thought he meant to strike the body, but with a smooth motion, the Minister tapped each shoulder twice with flat of the sword, then he returned the sword to Neville, who took it and hung it again by his side. Shackleford reached within his robes and removed a medal and ribbon, and smoothly set the Order of Merlin, First Class around Snape’s neck. The Minister and Neville straightened, bowed slightly to Snape then turned and left the room without a word, though Neville gave Harry and Hagrid a nod and a slight smile as he passed.
The music grew quiet, and Harry sensed that it was time for the mourners to pass and pay their respects. The Malfoys came first, and Harry was surprised to see how distraught Narcissa was by the death of Snape. From his reaction, Lucius Malfoy was also shocked by her apparent affection for Severus, though Draco was not surprised at all. Then again, Draco seemed dully unaware of his surroundings, as if he was unsure about what was real. That he looked at Harry without cursing was strange enough in itself.
Hagrid came next, and he leaned over, thought for a few moments, then patted Severus on the shoulder and said something to him, so quietly that Harry had no idea what it was. Hagrid rose, turned and nodded to Harry with a demeanor more serious than Harry remembered seeing from him, and walked towards the exit.
Harry approached the body of his long-time enemy, unsure of what he felt. He was reminded of how he had felt as he approached Snape while he had been dying, there too he did it without any conscious thought. Perhaps it was imagination, but it seemed to Harry that in death, the body of Severus Snape still carried that loneliness and pain he had hidden so long, so well that Harry would never have know it but for the memories he experienced in the pensieve. Harry wondered if the pain and sorrow etched in the face of Severus Snape was reflected in wherever Snape had gone, or if he had finally been able to leave them and moved on. Harry was surprised to realize that he had no hate for Snape. Perhaps, later, he might even come to respect the man – Harry almost smiled to recall how insistent Albus Dumbledore had been that he call Snape by his title – but for now, at least he did not have any grudge against him.
Harry noticed something in Snape’s hand. He had died with his hands empty, so this had been put there by someone. It seemed to be part of a photograph, and though Harry could not see the image within, the tear reminded him of the other part he carried within his robes, and in a flash Harry realized that Snape clutched in his dead fingers a symbol of his honor, his bravery, and his lost yet noble hope.
Harry stood up to leave, but stopped. He owed something more than just to observe the man. Harry looked intently at the face of Snape for a moment, nodded to himself, and quietly said, “Thank you, professor.”
He then stepped to the door, allowing the grieving woman to spend time alone with Snape. The veil concealed her face, yet Harry thought he recognized the nose and the jawline, but now was not the time to disturb her, merely to satisfy curiosity.
Harry left the library and stepped into the warm sunlight of the bright afternoon.
Harry had not been to many funerals in his life, though now it seemed there were funerals everyday which required his attendance. He could not begrudge the requests; in many cases he had been friends with the deceased, and even where he had not been close to the one who died, it seemed everyone took comfort in his presence at him being at the funeral. So Harry made time, and Ginny accepted this as right and necessary for the most part. Until it was time for the funeral of one whose death Harry once thought he would be glad to hear about. Certainly Ginny did not like the idea of Harry going to his funeral.
“Harry, he hated you,” said Ginny for what seemed the hundredth time. “If it was your funeral, he would only have come to mock the mouners.”
“I have to go, Ginny” said Harry, simply. To tell the truth, Harry was not sure how he felt about this man. Yes, he had been brave, but that did not change how he had acted towards Harry all those years, and yes, Ginny may well have been right, that so long as it was not his direct fault, the man might have enjoyed Harry dying.
But maybe not. Something had changed in him, just as Harry had changed, and whatever that something was, it commanded respect, certainly enough to mean Harry had to go to his funeral.
The funeral was held in, of all things, the Library at Hogwarts. This seemed extremely strange to Harry, and he had no idea whose idea it was to have the service here, but here he was, the body laid out on a table in a formal fashion, as though the dead man was the subject of a lecture to be held.
It was a depressing atmosphere, Harry sensed. Partly because there were so few people to mourn this man; he had never been popular, and even the proof of his honor and bravery against Voldemort was not sufficient to bring many to regard him before the destruction of his body. As Harry entered the room for the service, he glanced around and saw the Malfoys, who ignored him, a woman dressed all in black who seemed devastated with grief, although with her veil and formal dress, Harry could not be sure who it was, and – strangely enough – Hagrid, who took up three chairs. Harry went to sit next to Hagrid.
Hagrid leaned over towards Harry and said, “Ah told yeh he was loyal, Harry.”
“Yes, Hagrid,” agreed Harry, “you were right.”
And the service began. From somewhere, strange sad music began, stringed instruments of an orchestra and a cornet, and somehow Harry knew it was “The Vanished Gardens of Cordoba” by Ray Lynch, a muggle musician and composer. The tune was fitting, solemn and somehow noble, and Harry somehow knew that Severus had chosen this music. Had he known how few people would come to his funeral? Probably, thought Harry to himself. Severus never cultivated friends, and he must have known that his funeral would be a sad and lonely thing. Rather like the man.
There were no words.
At first, this seemed odd to Harry, but then he realized there was really nothing to say. If you wanted to say good-bye, this was the time, and it was not something to script. The wrongs done by Severus Snape would not be unmade by a service, and what good there was to him was set out, unvarnished, without embellishment. There was a quiet dignity to him in that respect, no pretense, no cosmetic attempt to be something other than simply what he was.
The music rose to a climax, as if something significant were meant to happen, and at that moment Harry heard a movement at the doorway behind him, and he turned, and was surprised to see Nevillle Longbottom and Kingsley Shacklebolt enter the chamber, each of them strangely formal in their dress, their manners, and their movements. The two men paced forward, stopped before the body, and the Minister of Magic turned to Neville, who paused.
Neville looked at Snape’s face, his jaw working as if he was momentarily torn in his choice. Harry saw a flash of emotion, anger and distaste mixed with something else, but in a moment he was calm again, with a short nod, reached to his side and withdrew the Sword of Godric Gryffindor, which he extended hilt-first to the Minister.
Kingsley Shackleford extended the sword’s blade towards the face of Severus Snape, and for a moment Harry thought he meant to strike the body, but with a smooth motion, the Minister tapped each shoulder twice with flat of the sword, then he returned the sword to Neville, who took it and hung it again by his side. Shackleford reached within his robes and removed a medal and ribbon, and smoothly set the Order of Merlin, First Class around Snape’s neck. The Minister and Neville straightened, bowed slightly to Snape then turned and left the room without a word, though Neville gave Harry and Hagrid a nod and a slight smile as he passed.
The music grew quiet, and Harry sensed that it was time for the mourners to pass and pay their respects. The Malfoys came first, and Harry was surprised to see how distraught Narcissa was by the death of Snape. From his reaction, Lucius Malfoy was also shocked by her apparent affection for Severus, though Draco was not surprised at all. Then again, Draco seemed dully unaware of his surroundings, as if he was unsure about what was real. That he looked at Harry without cursing was strange enough in itself.
Hagrid came next, and he leaned over, thought for a few moments, then patted Severus on the shoulder and said something to him, so quietly that Harry had no idea what it was. Hagrid rose, turned and nodded to Harry with a demeanor more serious than Harry remembered seeing from him, and walked towards the exit.
Harry approached the body of his long-time enemy, unsure of what he felt. He was reminded of how he had felt as he approached Snape while he had been dying, there too he did it without any conscious thought. Perhaps it was imagination, but it seemed to Harry that in death, the body of Severus Snape still carried that loneliness and pain he had hidden so long, so well that Harry would never have know it but for the memories he experienced in the pensieve. Harry wondered if the pain and sorrow etched in the face of Severus Snape was reflected in wherever Snape had gone, or if he had finally been able to leave them and moved on. Harry was surprised to realize that he had no hate for Snape. Perhaps, later, he might even come to respect the man – Harry almost smiled to recall how insistent Albus Dumbledore had been that he call Snape by his title – but for now, at least he did not have any grudge against him.
Harry noticed something in Snape’s hand. He had died with his hands empty, so this had been put there by someone. It seemed to be part of a photograph, and though Harry could not see the image within, the tear reminded him of the other part he carried within his robes, and in a flash Harry realized that Snape clutched in his dead fingers a symbol of his honor, his bravery, and his lost yet noble hope.
Harry stood up to leave, but stopped. He owed something more than just to observe the man. Harry looked intently at the face of Snape for a moment, nodded to himself, and quietly said, “Thank you, professor.”
He then stepped to the door, allowing the grieving woman to spend time alone with Snape. The veil concealed her face, yet Harry thought he recognized the nose and the jawline, but now was not the time to disturb her, merely to satisfy curiosity.
Harry left the library and stepped into the warm sunlight of the bright afternoon.
Friday, July 27, 2007
NO POSTS THIS WEEKEND
One last Case Study,
one last Homework assignment,
the final submission of a Term Paper,
and 2 Final examinations.
I will resume my life after Sunday.
one last Homework assignment,
the final submission of a Term Paper,
and 2 Final examinations.
I will resume my life after Sunday.
Thursday, July 26, 2007
Reditio Soteri -11-
The watcher returned to the city and again found himself across the street from Bruce’s apartment. Once he returned to a physical form, the pains returned, a reminder of the power of his enemies. The watcher had been careful to avoid churches as he came back; he could not be sure where more of the hounds might be, and as much as he hated the hounds, he had no desire to meet them on their turf and terms.
At least the killing was easy and fast in this place, thought the watcher to himself. Strange, how so often those who thought themselves strong and fearsome, were never ready to face something stronger and more fierce than themselves. The watcher prided himself, that at the least he knew his limitations and watched his course when in his enemies’ place of power. It some ways, it was his own fault, watching for pretty sights and hoping for the old blessing – the watcher knew well those days were long gone, as far lost as his old allotted place at the beginning.
The watcher sighed to himself wistfully, then shook off his despair. What’s done is done after all, he told himself, and anyway there’s work here to do. The watcher licked blood of his forepaws and focused on the apartment across the street, determined and calm.
At least the killing was easy and fast in this place, thought the watcher to himself. Strange, how so often those who thought themselves strong and fearsome, were never ready to face something stronger and more fierce than themselves. The watcher prided himself, that at the least he knew his limitations and watched his course when in his enemies’ place of power. It some ways, it was his own fault, watching for pretty sights and hoping for the old blessing – the watcher knew well those days were long gone, as far lost as his old allotted place at the beginning.
The watcher sighed to himself wistfully, then shook off his despair. What’s done is done after all, he told himself, and anyway there’s work here to do. The watcher licked blood of his forepaws and focused on the apartment across the street, determined and calm.
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
Reditio Soteri -10-
At the apartment that evening, Bruce and Stevie were preparing for the next day. In Stevie’s case, that meant a book report for reading, and rehearsal of basic multiplication. For Bruce, that meant Algebra homework and Literature. This would not be bad on a normal night, but Bruce’s mom was determined to have Bruce memorize the Bible, apparently by the end of this week. As he plowed through the riveting plot in the book of ‘Numbers’, Bruce also wondered how he would face the bullies who had locked him up on Friday. Bruce was sure they would not be pleased he had gotten free and spent the weekend at home.
After finishing his assigned reading, Bruce again was allowed to read a part of the Bible of his own choice, and again he let the book open itself, hoping for a nice Psalm or Proverb, but instead the book fell open to an early part, to Genesis 14:10 –
Now the Valley of Siddim was full of tar pits, and when the kings of Sodom and Gomorrah fled, some of the men fell into them and the rest fled to the hills.
This passage did nothing for Bruce, so he again set the book on its spine and let it fall open. Again, the Bible most unnaturally ignored the middle sections, and fell open to Deuteronomy 7:10 –
those who hate Him He will repay to their face by destruction; He will not be slow to repay to their face those who hate Him.
A bit vengeful, that seemed, though Bruce felt he could identify with that up to a point. Once again, Bruce set up the Bible, and this time it fell open to Psalms 55:13 –
But it is you, a man like myself, my companion, my close friend,
An odd verse thought Bruce, especially in the context of betrayal by a friend – one nice thing about not having any real friends, was that the friends you did not have, would not desert you.
Bruce put away the Bible, kissed his mom goodnight, and went to sleep. He did not sleep well, but dreamed of violence and pain.
After finishing his assigned reading, Bruce again was allowed to read a part of the Bible of his own choice, and again he let the book open itself, hoping for a nice Psalm or Proverb, but instead the book fell open to an early part, to Genesis 14:10 –
Now the Valley of Siddim was full of tar pits, and when the kings of Sodom and Gomorrah fled, some of the men fell into them and the rest fled to the hills.
This passage did nothing for Bruce, so he again set the book on its spine and let it fall open. Again, the Bible most unnaturally ignored the middle sections, and fell open to Deuteronomy 7:10 –
those who hate Him He will repay to their face by destruction; He will not be slow to repay to their face those who hate Him.
A bit vengeful, that seemed, though Bruce felt he could identify with that up to a point. Once again, Bruce set up the Bible, and this time it fell open to Psalms 55:13 –
But it is you, a man like myself, my companion, my close friend,
An odd verse thought Bruce, especially in the context of betrayal by a friend – one nice thing about not having any real friends, was that the friends you did not have, would not desert you.
Bruce put away the Bible, kissed his mom goodnight, and went to sleep. He did not sleep well, but dreamed of violence and pain.
Monday, July 23, 2007
Reditio Soteri -9-
The hounds landed immediately, flanking the watcher like a pair of police officers. They could be taken for collies, if it weren’t for their exceptional size, obvious intelligence, and a most-uncollie-like aggressiveness and predatorial inclinations. They took up positions to either side of the watcher, close enough for him to see the size of their clean, white, sharp teeth. For a moment, the watcher was struck with the sense that these hounds must floss – their teeth were perfect. Without thinking, the words came out:
“Wow, nice work. Who’s your orthodontist?”
Compliments about dental hygiene, it turned out, did not improve the mood. The one to the watcher’s left stepped forward, pushing the watcher back a step as he demanded,
“You were at the church. You. What were your intentions, imp?”
“Hey, the sign said ‘all are welcome’ “ replied the watcher, “Perhaps they should be more specific in – oof!”
The second hound had kicked the watcher hard in the chest. He glared down at the supine watcher, who knew he had to be silent and still.
“You,” began the hound, “You are not welcome. You know this. What were you planning?”
The watcher remained silent.
“Answer me!” demanded the second hound, while the first peered intently at the watcher, as if he was trying to read his mind.
“Say ‘please’, first” replied the watcher. For this, he was punched hard in the flank, and as he skidded across the grass and careened off one tree into the trunk of another one, the watcher wondered just how a dog, even one from Heaven, could throw a punch. The watcher never saw it coming.
“Ow” said the watcher.
“Again, vermin” said the second dog, as the first hung back, “what are your intentions?”
“You’d better answer,” said the first hound, “I think he’s enjoying this, and we’ve got all day.”
Swell, thought the watcher to himself, I’ve got hounds from heaven playing out a bad scene from ‘Starsky & Hutch’. Good dog,/bad dog, even. For crying out loud, where’s Lassie to show these guys some manners?
“Uhhhh, they had free chicken?” suggested the watcher. He expected the kick that came, but it still hurt a lot more than he expected.
Things went that way for a long time, the watcher lost track of just how long, and somewhere along the way he lost consciousness. He came to some time after sundown, sore all over and with nothing for his pains but a warning that he would get more if he was seen around a church again.
The watcher shook himself, considered his position and options, and with a movement vaporized his material form and flew through the air back towards town. He needed to hunt, to take his mind off the way his day had gone. Something needed to die to make him feel better, and if he couldn’t kill something from Heaven, something on Earth would have to do.
“Wow, nice work. Who’s your orthodontist?”
Compliments about dental hygiene, it turned out, did not improve the mood. The one to the watcher’s left stepped forward, pushing the watcher back a step as he demanded,
“You were at the church. You. What were your intentions, imp?”
“Hey, the sign said ‘all are welcome’ “ replied the watcher, “Perhaps they should be more specific in – oof!”
The second hound had kicked the watcher hard in the chest. He glared down at the supine watcher, who knew he had to be silent and still.
“You,” began the hound, “You are not welcome. You know this. What were you planning?”
The watcher remained silent.
“Answer me!” demanded the second hound, while the first peered intently at the watcher, as if he was trying to read his mind.
“Say ‘please’, first” replied the watcher. For this, he was punched hard in the flank, and as he skidded across the grass and careened off one tree into the trunk of another one, the watcher wondered just how a dog, even one from Heaven, could throw a punch. The watcher never saw it coming.
“Ow” said the watcher.
“Again, vermin” said the second dog, as the first hung back, “what are your intentions?”
“You’d better answer,” said the first hound, “I think he’s enjoying this, and we’ve got all day.”
Swell, thought the watcher to himself, I’ve got hounds from heaven playing out a bad scene from ‘Starsky & Hutch’. Good dog,/bad dog, even. For crying out loud, where’s Lassie to show these guys some manners?
“Uhhhh, they had free chicken?” suggested the watcher. He expected the kick that came, but it still hurt a lot more than he expected.
Things went that way for a long time, the watcher lost track of just how long, and somewhere along the way he lost consciousness. He came to some time after sundown, sore all over and with nothing for his pains but a warning that he would get more if he was seen around a church again.
The watcher shook himself, considered his position and options, and with a movement vaporized his material form and flew through the air back towards town. He needed to hunt, to take his mind off the way his day had gone. Something needed to die to make him feel better, and if he couldn’t kill something from Heaven, something on Earth would have to do.
Reditio Soteri -8-
The watcher raced through the city streets, but he already knew the run was hopeless; the Hounds always found their quarry. Even so, he needed time to think up something for his defense, because while they were relentless in their pursuit, the Hounds would always listen to a plea. The watcher wasn’t sure if they were pursuing him in the belief that he represented a threat, or whether it was just long habit. For now, it hardly mattered.
The watcher had initially tried to run with speed appropriate for the form he held, but as the hounds gained steadily he gave that up for something faster, and pelted off the side of a building into the air, shooting like a rocket. The hounds made a similar movement, yet managed to retain most of their form, which the watcher felt was just a bit unfair, but he was hardly able to argue the point to anyone.
The watcher gained speed, shooting skyward and desperate to put distance between him and his pursuers, as his mind raced to come up with something to keep him from suffering once the hounds caught up, as they inevitably must. Of its own whim, the watcher’s mind pondered whether the chase would show up on radar, and if so whether he was going to mess with someone’s flight patterns. Oh well, he thought, he wasn’t trying to cause trouble on that point, but there was nothing he could do if that was the case, and worrying about being taken for a UFO was not going to tell him how to keep from getting thrashed by those hounds.
The watcher dived suddenly down through a thunderhead, hoping the hounds were depending on sight and might lose him for a while in the cloud cover. As he saw them shoot away, ahead and above him, the watcher thrilled with delight, but when they banked around and came back down after him, he knew it was no use. The chase was just wearing him out, and he couldn’t think straight while flying, anyway. The watcher looked down and chose a remote wooded area for the meeting, wondering how bad he would get hurt.
The watcher had initially tried to run with speed appropriate for the form he held, but as the hounds gained steadily he gave that up for something faster, and pelted off the side of a building into the air, shooting like a rocket. The hounds made a similar movement, yet managed to retain most of their form, which the watcher felt was just a bit unfair, but he was hardly able to argue the point to anyone.
The watcher gained speed, shooting skyward and desperate to put distance between him and his pursuers, as his mind raced to come up with something to keep him from suffering once the hounds caught up, as they inevitably must. Of its own whim, the watcher’s mind pondered whether the chase would show up on radar, and if so whether he was going to mess with someone’s flight patterns. Oh well, he thought, he wasn’t trying to cause trouble on that point, but there was nothing he could do if that was the case, and worrying about being taken for a UFO was not going to tell him how to keep from getting thrashed by those hounds.
The watcher dived suddenly down through a thunderhead, hoping the hounds were depending on sight and might lose him for a while in the cloud cover. As he saw them shoot away, ahead and above him, the watcher thrilled with delight, but when they banked around and came back down after him, he knew it was no use. The chase was just wearing him out, and he couldn’t think straight while flying, anyway. The watcher looked down and chose a remote wooded area for the meeting, wondering how bad he would get hurt.
Sunday, July 22, 2007
Reditio Soteri -7-
Bruce had come to regard church-going as a waste of time, something he had in general commonality with his watcher across the street. His mother and brother, on the other hand, took strength from church, and their life energy was restored by the predictable traditions and doctrinal banality of the RBCR and Reverend Sheely.
Ezekiel Sheely was not your normal minister. His grasp of doctrine tended to suit his personal mood, but what made Sheely more unusual, was his sense of pastorship. Sheely considered himself very much the shepherd of his flock, and he took quite seriously his duty to meet their needs and concerns. And nowhere was this character more in evidence, than when Pastor Sheely convened the prayer circle after the mid-day meal on Sunday. Sheely passed around a list of the community members who had prayer needs, names a brief request for reference. There was a brief silence as everyone prepared their spirit for the prayer, and speaking for the group, Pastor Sheely opened the channel and prayed out loud to God:
”Holy Father, we come to you in the Name of Jesus Christ our Lord in praise, in reverence, and in supplication, for these our brothers and sisters …”
Across the street, the watcher sensed the essence of the prayer going up, for it was strong. The watcher considered the prayer critically, and approved – it was a good prayer, strong and selfless. A nice mix of humility and love, adoration and confidence in the God to whom they prayed. The unity of spirit added to its strength and clarity, thought the watcher, this one was really quite unusual, not even a hint of a single selfish request in it from any of the supplicants; you didn’t see that very often, especially in these large American cities. Yes, the watcher was sure, this one would get a clear answer, and soon.
He was right; almost immediately the place began to change, the air becoming fresher and the mood subtly altered becoming, well, cleaner - the watcher was amused to notice that even those people driving cars through the area were suddenly more careful drivers and more courteous. The watcher waited with eager anticipation for the next part.
And it came directly, a strong atmosphere of love and joy and belonging, the very family of God affirming the authenticity of the believers’ identity as children of the Most High God. The watcher sensed this with a wistful awe; so long, it had been so very long since he had been privileged to experience the pleasure of God, even in this extended way, to sense the approval of the Lord and to know that you were wanted. It was something truly wonderful, and only the Lord’s children knew it regularly. Them and – the watcher suddenly froze, then ran from the church with all his speed. What a fool he was! Prayers were always heard by God, and always answered, but not only were such prayers as this answered quickly and boldly, the Lord tended to send ministering angels to carry out His Will. And that meant the possibility of other Guardians, as well, who would search out those like the watcher, and they would surely find him for hanging about the church, and might well consider him a threat. His only hope was that they would not see him, a desperate hope with no real chance.
The watcher was right. Even as he turned to flee there came from the clouds two Guardians, fierce and vigilant, who noted the watcher and set after him. The watcher was pursued from the church by two Hounds of Heaven.
Ezekiel Sheely was not your normal minister. His grasp of doctrine tended to suit his personal mood, but what made Sheely more unusual, was his sense of pastorship. Sheely considered himself very much the shepherd of his flock, and he took quite seriously his duty to meet their needs and concerns. And nowhere was this character more in evidence, than when Pastor Sheely convened the prayer circle after the mid-day meal on Sunday. Sheely passed around a list of the community members who had prayer needs, names a brief request for reference. There was a brief silence as everyone prepared their spirit for the prayer, and speaking for the group, Pastor Sheely opened the channel and prayed out loud to God:
”Holy Father, we come to you in the Name of Jesus Christ our Lord in praise, in reverence, and in supplication, for these our brothers and sisters …”
Across the street, the watcher sensed the essence of the prayer going up, for it was strong. The watcher considered the prayer critically, and approved – it was a good prayer, strong and selfless. A nice mix of humility and love, adoration and confidence in the God to whom they prayed. The unity of spirit added to its strength and clarity, thought the watcher, this one was really quite unusual, not even a hint of a single selfish request in it from any of the supplicants; you didn’t see that very often, especially in these large American cities. Yes, the watcher was sure, this one would get a clear answer, and soon.
He was right; almost immediately the place began to change, the air becoming fresher and the mood subtly altered becoming, well, cleaner - the watcher was amused to notice that even those people driving cars through the area were suddenly more careful drivers and more courteous. The watcher waited with eager anticipation for the next part.
And it came directly, a strong atmosphere of love and joy and belonging, the very family of God affirming the authenticity of the believers’ identity as children of the Most High God. The watcher sensed this with a wistful awe; so long, it had been so very long since he had been privileged to experience the pleasure of God, even in this extended way, to sense the approval of the Lord and to know that you were wanted. It was something truly wonderful, and only the Lord’s children knew it regularly. Them and – the watcher suddenly froze, then ran from the church with all his speed. What a fool he was! Prayers were always heard by God, and always answered, but not only were such prayers as this answered quickly and boldly, the Lord tended to send ministering angels to carry out His Will. And that meant the possibility of other Guardians, as well, who would search out those like the watcher, and they would surely find him for hanging about the church, and might well consider him a threat. His only hope was that they would not see him, a desperate hope with no real chance.
The watcher was right. Even as he turned to flee there came from the clouds two Guardians, fierce and vigilant, who noted the watcher and set after him. The watcher was pursued from the church by two Hounds of Heaven.
Saturday, July 21, 2007
Reditio Soteri -6-
Bruce woke up early Sunday morning. Then again, he always woke up early on Sunday, because his mom and Stevie would never let him miss church.
Church for Bruce was an all-day affair at the Reformed Baptist Church of the Redeemed, which was a long way of saying the ministers were a bit different from anything you normally connected with a church. Well, they dressed the part, with fine suits and styled hair, and they talked the talk, with lots of emphasis whenever Jesus was mentioned, as if they went into mild delirium every time the Savior was mentioned – and they mentioned Him a lot. Jesus was summoned to pass blessing on pronouncements of every conceivable sort, from baptisms and confessions, to upcoming elections (which it seemed was the Devil trying to destroy the world by getting his minions elected, usually characters whose style of dress and speech was suspiciously similar to the good reverends), to corporations and evil forces luring around every corner. Bruce sometimes wondered if the church should stick the word ‘paranoid’ in its name somewhere.
He didn’t do well in the sword drills. Despite his mom’s confidence that it would be Deuteronomy this week, the class worked on 2nd Timothy. Stevie teased Bruce about it all day afterwards.
Lunch was chicken and salad. It was always chicken and salad et the Reformed Baptist Church of the Redeemed; maybe that thing Jesus did with the loaves and fishes in Israel, this church had worked out with old chicken and limp salad.
Bruce didn’t see much purpose in going to church all day on Sunday, but Stevie loved it, and it seemed to be the one thing his mom could depend on, so he toughed it out, even the mix of church ladies who either considered him an angel if he would just not talk so much, or a future hoodlum who needed a beating to get him set straight. That second group always included several of Bruce’s teachers.
Across the street from the church, the watcher peered intently at the congregation, as he nibbled on the body of a stray cat, taking care that the remains would look like the work of a dog.
Church for Bruce was an all-day affair at the Reformed Baptist Church of the Redeemed, which was a long way of saying the ministers were a bit different from anything you normally connected with a church. Well, they dressed the part, with fine suits and styled hair, and they talked the talk, with lots of emphasis whenever Jesus was mentioned, as if they went into mild delirium every time the Savior was mentioned – and they mentioned Him a lot. Jesus was summoned to pass blessing on pronouncements of every conceivable sort, from baptisms and confessions, to upcoming elections (which it seemed was the Devil trying to destroy the world by getting his minions elected, usually characters whose style of dress and speech was suspiciously similar to the good reverends), to corporations and evil forces luring around every corner. Bruce sometimes wondered if the church should stick the word ‘paranoid’ in its name somewhere.
He didn’t do well in the sword drills. Despite his mom’s confidence that it would be Deuteronomy this week, the class worked on 2nd Timothy. Stevie teased Bruce about it all day afterwards.
Lunch was chicken and salad. It was always chicken and salad et the Reformed Baptist Church of the Redeemed; maybe that thing Jesus did with the loaves and fishes in Israel, this church had worked out with old chicken and limp salad.
Bruce didn’t see much purpose in going to church all day on Sunday, but Stevie loved it, and it seemed to be the one thing his mom could depend on, so he toughed it out, even the mix of church ladies who either considered him an angel if he would just not talk so much, or a future hoodlum who needed a beating to get him set straight. That second group always included several of Bruce’s teachers.
Across the street from the church, the watcher peered intently at the congregation, as he nibbled on the body of a stray cat, taking care that the remains would look like the work of a dog.
Friday, July 20, 2007
Reditio Soteri –5-
Bruce woke up with a strange buzzing sound in his ears, and a feeling of unexplained guilt. Over by the window, he saw Stevie drawing.
“Sup, little man?” he asked.
“K”, answered Stevie, his attention focused on the strange dog he was drawing. Well, a dog or a pig or a well-fed ferret, Bruce couldn’t tell, but Stevie was working hard at it. Seemed like it was laughing at something. Maybe that meant Stevie was happy.
Bruce went to the kitchen, where his mom had left a note. She’d gone off to work, but left breakfast in the oven for Bruce and Stevie, along with a list of chores for Bruce to do. Bruce sighed, and started on the laundry.
As the laundry was going in the washer, Bruce scrubbed at the kitchen floor, wondering – again – how the floor got scuffed and dirty when neither he nor Stevie did anything to mess it up. Strangely, Bruce hardly hurt from yesterday’s beatings; maybe that meant he was getting tougher. And if he got tougher, maybe those jerks would start to leave him alone. Yeah right, and the laundry would start doing itself …
That evening, after his mom got back from work, she set Bruce and Stevie to Bible Study. Tomorrow was Church, and that meant Sword Drills in Sunday School. More Deuteronomy, but after he got his passages memorized, Bruce was allowed to read another part on his own. For some reason, Bruce found himself in the book of Job, and his eyes fell on Chapter 2:1 -
On another day the sons of God came to present themselves before the LORD, and Satan also came with them to present himself before him.
Something about that passage bothered Bruce, and he quickly closed the Bible, almost slamming it shut.
Bruce felt silly about that, and opened up the Bible again. This time it fell open to Numbers 22:26 –
Then the angel of the LORD moved on ahead and stood in a narrow place where there was no room to turn, either to the right or to the left.
Again, Bruce felt a strange forboding and this time he did slam the Bible shut, earning a sharp look from his mother. Embarrassed, he opened the Bible yet again, and – as if someone else was turning the pages, it fell open to Exodus 23:20 –
See, I am sending an angel ahead of you to guard you along the way and to bring you to the place I have prepared
This time, Bruce was strangely reassured, and he closed the Bible one last time for the evening, this time quietly and calmly.
Across the street, the watcher was annoyed. He felt prickly and itchy, as if he had touched something to which he was allergic.
“Sup, little man?” he asked.
“K”, answered Stevie, his attention focused on the strange dog he was drawing. Well, a dog or a pig or a well-fed ferret, Bruce couldn’t tell, but Stevie was working hard at it. Seemed like it was laughing at something. Maybe that meant Stevie was happy.
Bruce went to the kitchen, where his mom had left a note. She’d gone off to work, but left breakfast in the oven for Bruce and Stevie, along with a list of chores for Bruce to do. Bruce sighed, and started on the laundry.
As the laundry was going in the washer, Bruce scrubbed at the kitchen floor, wondering – again – how the floor got scuffed and dirty when neither he nor Stevie did anything to mess it up. Strangely, Bruce hardly hurt from yesterday’s beatings; maybe that meant he was getting tougher. And if he got tougher, maybe those jerks would start to leave him alone. Yeah right, and the laundry would start doing itself …
That evening, after his mom got back from work, she set Bruce and Stevie to Bible Study. Tomorrow was Church, and that meant Sword Drills in Sunday School. More Deuteronomy, but after he got his passages memorized, Bruce was allowed to read another part on his own. For some reason, Bruce found himself in the book of Job, and his eyes fell on Chapter 2:1 -
On another day the sons of God came to present themselves before the LORD, and Satan also came with them to present himself before him.
Something about that passage bothered Bruce, and he quickly closed the Bible, almost slamming it shut.
Bruce felt silly about that, and opened up the Bible again. This time it fell open to Numbers 22:26 –
Then the angel of the LORD moved on ahead and stood in a narrow place where there was no room to turn, either to the right or to the left.
Again, Bruce felt a strange forboding and this time he did slam the Bible shut, earning a sharp look from his mother. Embarrassed, he opened the Bible yet again, and – as if someone else was turning the pages, it fell open to Exodus 23:20 –
See, I am sending an angel ahead of you to guard you along the way and to bring you to the place I have prepared
This time, Bruce was strangely reassured, and he closed the Bible one last time for the evening, this time quietly and calmly.
Across the street, the watcher was annoyed. He felt prickly and itchy, as if he had touched something to which he was allergic.
Thursday, July 19, 2007
Reditio Soteri -4-
The watcher sat unmoving across the street from Bruce’s apartment, oblivious to anything else until he sensed that Bruce had gone to sleep. A few moments sufficed to assure the watcher that the immediate area was secure, and the watcher loped off to satisfy a deep need.
The neighborhood was a bad one, so it was only after a few blocks that the watcher found what he wanted. A young man sat at a red light in his car, with the window down. Worse, the man was talking to someone on the phone, and so was paying no attention to his surroundings. But it was not that man who the watcher found interesting. The watcher peered intently at the other young man coming round the car from behind and the side, who raised his pistol and put a shot into the shoulder of the driver, before opening the car door and throwing him to the ground.
Stunned by the surprise and the hot pain in his shoulder and chest, the driver paled in fear as he saw the carjacker aim the pistol in his face to finish the job.
Then the driver saw the gunman stop, stand bolt upright with a look of terror at some unseen monster, then raise the gun to his own head.
Three quick shots, and the gunmen fell to the ground, dead by his own hand. Writhing in his own pain, the driver did not stop to consider how strange it was that the gunman could shoot himself three times in the head.
The watcher smiled grimly at his game, and moved on to find more amusement. Before the sun came up, a would-be rapist would cut off his own genitals before a terrified young woman, a burglar would use the acetelyne torch he carried for breaking into a store on his own face, and an executive who had meant to carry out a perfect embezzlement of his company would wake to suddenly realize that he had instead e-mailed evidence of his plan to the CEO, the local newspaper, and the district attorney.
The watcher settled back to watching Bruce’s apartment with some satisfaction.
The neighborhood was a bad one, so it was only after a few blocks that the watcher found what he wanted. A young man sat at a red light in his car, with the window down. Worse, the man was talking to someone on the phone, and so was paying no attention to his surroundings. But it was not that man who the watcher found interesting. The watcher peered intently at the other young man coming round the car from behind and the side, who raised his pistol and put a shot into the shoulder of the driver, before opening the car door and throwing him to the ground.
Stunned by the surprise and the hot pain in his shoulder and chest, the driver paled in fear as he saw the carjacker aim the pistol in his face to finish the job.
Then the driver saw the gunman stop, stand bolt upright with a look of terror at some unseen monster, then raise the gun to his own head.
Three quick shots, and the gunmen fell to the ground, dead by his own hand. Writhing in his own pain, the driver did not stop to consider how strange it was that the gunman could shoot himself three times in the head.
The watcher smiled grimly at his game, and moved on to find more amusement. Before the sun came up, a would-be rapist would cut off his own genitals before a terrified young woman, a burglar would use the acetelyne torch he carried for breaking into a store on his own face, and an executive who had meant to carry out a perfect embezzlement of his company would wake to suddenly realize that he had instead e-mailed evidence of his plan to the CEO, the local newspaper, and the district attorney.
The watcher settled back to watching Bruce’s apartment with some satisfaction.
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
Reditio Soteri -3-
Bruce reached the door to the apartment as his lungs screamed at him to stop. Besides catching his breath, however, Bruce felt he had to stop and think. His mom was going to be furious with him for being so late, and he needed to come up with an excuse, but his mind was blank. Trying to get a sense of the mood, Bruce listened at the door, but all he heard were pots being moved in the kitchen. Suddenly, Bruce steeled his nerve and plunged in, deciding to brave whatever he had to face in the apartment.
But his mom was not home. Instead, Stevie was standing on a stool by the stove, and by the look of things he planned to cook his own dinner, with water heating in two pots and a box of Mac-n-Cheese nearby. Bruce smiled in spite of himself. For a seven-year-old, Stevie had a lot of confidence in his ability.
“Momma’s gonna tan you for turning on the stove, Stevie” said Bruce.
“Nuh uh” retorted Stevie. “Cuz if you tell her I turned on the stove, then I’ll tell her how late you are. Wazzup, anyway?”
“Same o” answered Bruce. “Ight, let’s make a deal. I’ll make you something to eat if you stay away from things that will get us both in trouble. Deal?”
“Deal” smiled Stevie, and he turned on the TV and sat down in front of it.
An hour later, Stevie was fed and washed, and Bruce had cleaned up the table and kitchen. But his mom was still not home, and that was bad. Bruce began to worry.
A while later, Bruce heard a commotion in the hall. It was his mom and someone else, a man, and drunk by the sound of him. His mom was saying something quietly, but with a sense of urgency. Bruce knew from experience not to stick his head out and see what was happening, because this often meant embarrassing his mom, and that always led to whippings for Bruce. A few minutes later, his mother entered, alone.
“Hey, babe” she said to Bruce. “Stevie asleep?”
“Yeah” answered Bruce. “You’re late.”
“I know, sorry” answered his mom. “I got a chance at some overtime, and God knows we need it.”
For some reason, Bruce didn’t want to talk about what had happened at school. Well, it never did any good to complain, and he’d seem like a total wuss if he admit he was freaked out by some strange sounds and a bad smell. So he let his mom take his mind off that by doing a half-hour of Bible Study, which was boring enough to make him sleepy. Bruce suspected his mom used Bible Study to get him to go straight to sleep, which seemed to be what the book of Deuteronomy was made to do.
Bruce fell asleep and dreamed of a cockroach uprising.
But his mom was not home. Instead, Stevie was standing on a stool by the stove, and by the look of things he planned to cook his own dinner, with water heating in two pots and a box of Mac-n-Cheese nearby. Bruce smiled in spite of himself. For a seven-year-old, Stevie had a lot of confidence in his ability.
“Momma’s gonna tan you for turning on the stove, Stevie” said Bruce.
“Nuh uh” retorted Stevie. “Cuz if you tell her I turned on the stove, then I’ll tell her how late you are. Wazzup, anyway?”
“Same o” answered Bruce. “Ight, let’s make a deal. I’ll make you something to eat if you stay away from things that will get us both in trouble. Deal?”
“Deal” smiled Stevie, and he turned on the TV and sat down in front of it.
An hour later, Stevie was fed and washed, and Bruce had cleaned up the table and kitchen. But his mom was still not home, and that was bad. Bruce began to worry.
A while later, Bruce heard a commotion in the hall. It was his mom and someone else, a man, and drunk by the sound of him. His mom was saying something quietly, but with a sense of urgency. Bruce knew from experience not to stick his head out and see what was happening, because this often meant embarrassing his mom, and that always led to whippings for Bruce. A few minutes later, his mother entered, alone.
“Hey, babe” she said to Bruce. “Stevie asleep?”
“Yeah” answered Bruce. “You’re late.”
“I know, sorry” answered his mom. “I got a chance at some overtime, and God knows we need it.”
For some reason, Bruce didn’t want to talk about what had happened at school. Well, it never did any good to complain, and he’d seem like a total wuss if he admit he was freaked out by some strange sounds and a bad smell. So he let his mom take his mind off that by doing a half-hour of Bible Study, which was boring enough to make him sleepy. Bruce suspected his mom used Bible Study to get him to go straight to sleep, which seemed to be what the book of Deuteronomy was made to do.
Bruce fell asleep and dreamed of a cockroach uprising.
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