Dream of Summertime - A Poem

“Lay down and dream of summertime,

Of Georgia blossoms, memories,

And close your eyes to let sweet sleep

Draw you on the breeze…”

Thus I was told so long ago,

By mother true, with heart benign,

And, young, I did as I was told,

Not to see the signs.

But when I woke, alone was I -

And gone were all, and lands I knew,

And nothing lived to tell me how

Summer mine was through.

How many years did pass away, 

And I remembered, living on,

But war lasts more than just a day,

And suff’ring past the dawn.

Still I would dream of summertime,

Of Georgia blossoms, memories,

And wonder why I was alone,

A leaf upon the breeze.

One day she came, and took me, true,

With heart and face like peace of old,

And then my dreams of summertime

‘Spite wartime, sweetly lulled. 

Taken, we married, never feared

Of Yankee fire so far away,

And happy for it both were we,

Though war yet had the day.

But I told her of summertime,

Of Georgia blossoms, memories,

A dream that had to have defense -

A dream upon the breeze. 

And, with her leave, I left again,

To fight for what I knew so well,

And thinking to her, waiting there,

I saw through smoke, war fell.

One battle then, one wintertime,

Took all that it had left before, 

I did not see, nor hear the fire,

Nor know what was in store.

I never saw the North go down -

I never heard the victory,

But knowing mine, I asked that words

A comrade write for me.

I said, “Write her of summertime,

And what I gave, that it be free,

And never fall to flame and ash, That peaceful blow the breeze.”

And when ‘twas through, I sighed and laid

My weary head upon the ground,

And, praying only we could win,

Old words my mind found -

“Lay down and dream of summertime,

Of Georgia blossoms, memories…,”

And then I gave to let sweet sleep

Draw me on the breeze…

***

Why We Need the Fourth of July

In an America that is often hard to live in - one that is so violently against logic, ethics, and religion in our own day, having problems upstairs and ignorance downstairs - we Christians tend to think that our country is a lost cause. After all, what is America to us if it loses us Heaven? All the political turmoil that constantly is about throws us into doubt about our beautiful land, making us identify it with the immorality that inhabits it. If there is one thing we need right now, though, it is not resignation to America's doom - we cannot give up on our country.

So many times recently have we seen attempts to deny our history in favor of a whitewashed one - in favor of a new code of law, and of thought and ethics, a modern secular's religion, if you will. Many people disagree with the past, and so try to erase it and pretend that it never existed. Sometimes, I feel the same way. Doesn't everyone wish they could erase their faults of the past? In the all-too often case, however, that I do not agree with the code of law that these aforementioned populaces try to uphold, it is hard to realize why exactly they so wish to alter America's memory.

Today is one mark in our history, however, that no one wishes to erase - or, if they do, have not managed to. Why? We are Americans - let that mean something to us. Occasionally in these troubled times, we become so concerned with justice and help for all those who are not Americans that we forget our own country. Independence Day marks our country's first step as a child - a new country. To disown it is to disown the quality of being an American. But it is not the only mark.

Our country and its culture are so incredibly diverse and many-faceted - bad and good alike, many things make it up. But we cannot deny one in favor of the other. To do so is to deny the truth. As people, are not all of our journeys marked by dark and light, by failure and success? To deny our mistakes and only recognize our triumphs is to make the latter obsolete, for our triumphs are only possible in learning from our mistakes. America is not a perfect country and never has been - it is, in this respect, the same as any other country. It has had good times and bad times. For instance, we once allowed slavery here - there is a low of America. For another example, we abolished slavery - there is an American high. To smooth over the former and only speak of the latter is to make no sense - how could we do good without knowing not to do wrong? We could not have abolished slavery, amending our mistake, if there had not been a mistake to amend in the first place. And did not this amendment of a mistake lead to greater rights for those who had previously been enslaved in years to come?

So much of American culture is increasingly at stake because of this wish to deny our past for the sake of a idealistic future. We need to today remember all of American culture - the Revolution and slavery, Fred Astaire and Golden Age Hollywood, the Civil War and the Old South, Star Wars and Davy Crockett, tarring and feathering and patriotism, the Wild West and Laura Ingalls Wilder, Shirley Temple and the World Wars and all the many, many various things that make up our culture. Good or bad, shameful or empowering, failed or successful, they all are a part of our culture, and they are all a part of the truth. We cannot deny them - they happened, and our duty is to remember our culture, and not let it die, and pray and fight for our country, aiding it to stand on its feet. Today is a very important marker, and it may serve as a reminder of all these things. Do not lie about the past, even in the hope of a greater future - all of these things were and are true. Remember all of them today, for this is the reason that Independence Day exists; we greatly need to be reminded of our past, so as to honor, know, and learn from it. This is the truth that is America - don't let it die.

The Pain of a Memory - Part XIV

It's about time for another excerpt for TPoam…! Here are the links to all the previous excerpt posts:
I
II
III
IV
V
VI
VII
VIII
IX
X
XI
XII
XIII

***

Errius glanced ahead. Finally, there it was, after almost four whole days of walking through sylvan wilderness. The town! He fingered a lock of Elystra's hair as she walked by him. She looked over at him. Errius nodded ahead. Elystra looked ahead as well, and her silver eyes widened . 

She turned back to Errius and flung her arms about him gleefully. "We've made it!" 

Then, suddenly, and unanticipated by Errius, she broke out into a run for the village ahead. Errius stood still a second in surprise, and then laughed a little. Elystra... She never changed... He shook his head smilingly, and then ran after her. 

It must have looked a rather odd spectacle as they got into town, Elystra coughing from the cold air, and Errius just finished running up. 

Errius smiled down at Elystra, and shook his head again, trying not to be too stern. She was clearly exhausted just from that. It worried Errius, but he tried not to show it. "You know, I don't believe you've changed much since you were four years old, bolting off like that" 

Elystra looked up at him innocently, then breaking into a little grin, despite her obvious weariness and the breathlessness of her voice when she spoke. "Of course I've changed, Errius. I'm taller, aren't I?" 

Errius rolled his eyes, smiling, and ever-so-slightly tempted to laugh. "Let's hurry, Elystra. We have no time for banter" 

Elystra's smile became a little less teasing, and she nodded. "Yes, let's go" 

"Do you still have the money?" 

Elystra nodded again. She pulled a small bag from inside the bodice of her dress. She handed it to him. 

Errius nodded, then gestured for her to come with him. They both walked through the town, and Errius looked out for a stable. Finally, they came across 

Errius scanned the area for some attendant. there was a stable boy inside. Errius strode over to him. "Is it possible to buy a horse here?," he asked the boy. 

The boy turned to face Errius. "You are a foreigner." 

My accent. Errius sighed and nodded. "Yes. But my sister and I need a horse." 

The boy looked over Errius' shoulder. "What sister?" 

Errius whirled around in worry. Elystra was gone. Oh no. Errius looked around frantically. She wasn't anywhere! He ran through the town, eyes scanning desperately for any sign of her. There didn't seem to be anything to indicate what had happened to her. 

                                                                       

                                                 

Errius stepped back into an alley. There was a sound from down the alley suddenly, like a muffled scream. Errius ran in the direction of the sound. He sprinted through the alleys of the village, eventually coming back into its center. No! He'd lost them! 

Then there was a sound of quickly moving horse's feet from the direction of the stable. Errius turned around quickly and went to the stable. He got there just in time to see a steed ride off... with a man, and Elystra, mounted upon it. 

Errius glanced at the stable boy. He handed him the money bag he'd been holding. "Here."

Then Errius hurried inside the stable and let out one of the horses. Not caring that it was totally unprepared for being ridden, he mounted it and quickly sped out of the stables after Elystra and her captor. 

Errius rode through the village and out of it, onto the river road. The other rider was ahead of him, a silhouette against the forest. They wouldn't be able to stay ahead, though. There were two riders on that horse, whereas Errius had only himself. 

Within minutes, Errius was catching up to them. He rode his horse alongside of them, and pulled the reins of the other rider's horse hard. Then 

Errius pulled his own reins, and kicked the other rider off his horse. Errius himself soon replaced the rider. He pulled the reins tighter. Once the horse with Elystra had stopped, Errius helped her down, and dismounted himself. 

Errius turned to Elystra worriedly. "Are you alright?" 

Elystra nodded, her eyes still a little wide in fright and her face pale. 

So Errius turned to her would-be captor. It was one of the bandits from the cave! Errius held the man's wrists and pulled him up forcefully. Then Errius noticed a satchel at the man's side. That meant... It wasn't just any of the bandits... It was the ransom messenger! 

Errius looked down at the man grimly. "And, how, may I ask, came you by the right to apprehend an innocent girl, much less take her with you?" 

The man didn't answer. He merely glared back up at Errius. 

Errius nodded to the satchel at the man's side. "Give me that and I'll let you go" 

The man shook his head. 

Errius shrugged. "So be it" Then Errius swiftly released the man's wrists, whirled around him and swiped the satchel. Then Errius backed away with it, going back to Elystra.

The bandit only smiled. Then he ran to one of the horses, and took off on it. 

Errius opened the bag quickly. There was nothing in it but some traveler's bread and some money. Blast! This was surely why the man had been so willing to run and let Errius take up the bag. 

He helped Elystra up on the horse, and then mounted himself. "You are sure that you're alright?" 

Elystra smiled a little shakily. "Yes" She looked a little confusedly at Errius. "Why on earth did he try to...?" 

Errius sighed. "He was the ransom messenger for the Silver Forest Bandits. He must have recognized you as a prisoner escaped, and seen your presence as a threat to his own mission"

Elystra looked out ponderingly. "I had thought he was ahead of us?" 

Errius nodded gravely. "So had I..." 

Errius gazed out silently, in the direction that the man had gone. Why had the bandit even been in this village? Errius had guessed that the man would be ahead of them... And, even if the man had only set off shortly before Errius and Elystra, why would he take this road? The forest road was on the robbers' doorstep, and the mountain road was equally as close as the river road, and easier to find. Why would he take this one? It just didn't make sense... 

Well, Errius thought, At least it gives us hope for one thing. If we travel correctly, we can make it there before the ransom note. Errius nodded determinedly, but looked back at Elystra. He wouldn't be able to travel without stopping, not while riding with her. It wouldn't allow her any rest. But then, if he didn't he might not catch up with the ransom note... Errius sighed. He'd just have to press on, and only stop when most necessary. It was a choice between letting his queen down, and letting his sister down. He would just have to moderate his stops, because he couldn't choose either. 

Elystra sighed softly, and placed her chin on Errius' shoulder. "I wonder, Errius...?" 

Errius broke himself from his thoughts. "Yes?" 

Elystra lifted her face and looked away. "Errius, maybe you should leave me back at the village, while you go and catch up with the ransom messenger. Once you reach the capital and get aid, you can come back for me... then I won't slow the journey down, Errius" 

Errius shook his head grimly. "I'm afraid not, Elystra" He reached a hand back and stroked her hair, smiling a little now. "With an encounter like that, you think that I would leave you alone in a small town for days, leagues away from me, with no one to protect you? No, my little maiden, I'm afraid not..." 

Errius heaved a deep breath. He only hoped he was making the right choice... 

***

Good Comedy is Good For the Soul

Earlier this morning, my siblings and I had to proceed to the laborious task of clearing the enormous lump of laundry in need of folding. As is my own habit, we turned on a show to make the work lighter, and we ended up watching old recording of Abbott and Costello on the Colgate Comedy Hour back in the 1930's. Now, I had watched some newer movies not so long before, and the humor was, at best, worth a slight smirk (providing it was clean enough even for that). Abbott and Costello? One minute of them was worth barrels of uncontrollable laughter. The difference between the two was not, as it may seem at surface level, just funnier cracks; the difference was the feeling one had coming away.

With the newer movies, what humor I remembered, I remembered only very vaguely, and it rather stuck like bad peanut butter to the roof of my mouth - a not necessarily unpleasant, but on a whole rather uninspiring sensation, and in places, it brought about a sense of guilt because the humor was rather morally shallow or even quite questionable. With the twosome's routines, I walked away with a lighthearted sort-of gaity in my step, and rather profound (for me, at least) thoughts on my mind, pondering the subjects of some of their witticisms. Why? The answer is in good comedy, and why it is good.
(Pardon all this commentary please, but, before accusations of bias, of course I love Abbott and Costello, however, this is not why I wrote this post - let this post be the reason why I love Abbott and Costello.)

No doubt, all of you have at some point heard, seen, or otherwise witnessed some of the "humor of the modern man," as my father once put it - it is occasionally amusing, but on a whole rather dependent upon the base, noisy, and slapstick (or things less clever and subtle even than slapstick, as often is the case). Most of the humor is either identity humor ("I'm funny because I'm..."), shock humor ("that's funny because it involves that uproarious, surprising, or gross thing") , or put-down humor ("that's funny because it insults someone or something we all generally dislike or disapprove of around here"). It's all based on thinking a thing is funny only because of a certain viewpoint, rather than something that is inevitably and universally true.

Good comedy is not based on the humor of a viewpoint; such humor is political, taking a side in a shallow controversy without appealing to something deeper. Of course, humor in controversy can still be funny, for, as the immortal Catholic writer, G.K. Chesterton, once said, "[Every man] ought himself to be importing humor into every controversy; for unless a man is in part a humorist, he is only in part a man." But Chesterton's comment nowhere implies that humor should be based on debate or prejudice. In fact, he is saying the contrary - that every event and happening, including debate and prejudice, should be met with humor.
(Just as a warning, I shall be quoting dear old Mr. Chesterton a lot in this post, as Mr. Chesterton and I get along quite swimmingly... All quotes are taken from Heretics, I believe.)

Really, truly good comedy is based on two things - the first and foremost of these is basic truths of life. The truth is, life is funny; odd things happen, coincidences happen, and nothing seems to make sense at face value. Thus, if reality is a funny thing, it is no coincidence that humor is based off of a discovery of reality and the truth. Nowhere will anyone claim that the truth always is convenient or sensible-sounding. Oftentimes, it's not, and to our limited human understandings, it seems like the silliest and strangest thing. Thus enters humor. And thus enters the second aspect of humor, almost as important as the first and even more integral in humor's nature: humility.

Humility and humor really do go hand in hand. I mean, really, they even have the same root word. Humor is the manifestation of humility; it is the taking of joy despite and in spite of human flaws. We are imperfect, and that's what's so funny. The moment we take ourselves seriously, that is the moment we sin and become prideful. In taking ourselves seriously, we pretend that we are really worth something on our own, that we are respectable and praise-worthy, and that we really know what we're doing. Well... do we...? No, not usually, at least - we human beings almost never really know what we're doing properly. And most of the time, when we think we know best is when we make our worst and most regrettable decisions. Laughing at ourselves is the quickest way to route pride and grow humility because it admits to us that we really are strange, funny, awkward things, and we have no idea what to do and no power to do it on our own.

Now, this latter point is not to deny the value of human beings or anything like that; sure, we have value. But, really, doesn't it become arrogance when we assume that we have any value independently? Are we not created, finite beings without any power our own, except for free will, which we frequently abuse and never quite seem to understand? And yet, it is the divine nature within us - the flame of eternity that is emblazoned upon our hearts - that encourages us to humor. For, to quote Mr. Chesterton again, "Unless a thing is dignified, it cannot be undignified," and "Joking is undignified; that is why it is so good for one's soul." The heart of comedy is really an endless, round circle; as truth leads to humility, humility leads to truth. Without a basic yearning for truth and the infinite, we cannot realize that we are erroneous and finite. And without truly realizing our mortality, we can never reach for the greater truths beyond it. Humor is a beautiful, if difficult to acquire, virtue that touches the soul and combines two of the greatest goods to encourage man to reach higher and go beyond himself. Without a yearning for those two goods, we are prideful, ignorant beings indeed.

Good comedy touches a man and makes him simultaneous recognize his own lowliness and think of something greater than himself. "For a hearty laugh it is necessary to have touched the heart."

Good comedy is good for the soul.