Transformation

25 Tuesday Oct 2016

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transformation I always was the shy kid; yet somehow I became President.

To be honest, it caught me off guard. I had been minding my own business, quietly going through life trying not to engage too much with humanity. And then it happened.

More accurately, it hadn’t happened. The college department society just wasn’t doing anything. It existed in name only. I mentioned this to the Department chairman, a huge man in both body and intellect, who at first looked at me like he had never met me before, which is how camouflaged into the background scene I had been. Then he encouraged me to do something about it. I pushed another person to become president, with me hiding behind as the trusty VP. Then I was President and we were incredibly active. I had been transformed.

Later I found myself falling into the same pattern with the regional chapter of an international professional scientific society. Nothing I thought should happen was happening, and despite my natural disinclination to power, I took over. Twice, as it happens, because ten years later I was asked to step in again. And again, reluctantly, I did.

Now I’m with another regional interest group in a completely different field. Not long after joining I found myself being drawn into yet another vice presidency, then a second. Where it ends nobody knows.

The transformation from the shy quiet kid to repetitive reluctant leadership isn’t complete. I’m still quiet, still prefer not to take responsibility, still wish others would do what needs to be done. And yet here I am. Again. Transformed.

David J. Kent is a science traveler and the author of Lincoln: The Man Who Saved America, in Barnes and Noble stores now. His previous books include Tesla: The Wizard of Electricity (2013) and Edison: The Inventor of the Modern World (2016) and two e-books: Nikola Tesla: Renewable Energy Ahead of Its Time and Abraham Lincoln and Nikola Tesla: Connected by Fate.

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Waiting at the Free State of America

18 Tuesday Oct 2016

Posted by davidjkentwriter in Creative

≈ 22 Comments

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daily post

Waiting was always the hardest part. We had been driving for hours across the desert. Vegas was many miles behind us as we raced for the Free State of America. It had been years since the great upheaval, the time no one wants to remember but none of us can get out of our minds.

It’s only an election, they said. Both parties are the same, they said. It doesn’t matter who you vote for, they said.

They were wrong.

The initial shock lasted for weeks. I suspect some still haven’t grasped the outcome, even all these years later. But it had happened; there is no doubt about that.

The first signs we had made a mistake came from those who voted by their conscience. “But we wanted a greener world,” they said. Or “we wanted a world free from government regulation,” they said. He said, she said. Some still rationalize their decision to vote “on principle,” though their “principle” was based on fantasies created in their heads, unrelated to reality. “It felt good for a while,” they said. Until the world changed.

The irony of the Free State of America isn’t lost on us who saw the upheaval coming. The former U.S. state was the first to secede, with Phoenix now the nation’s capital. It came as a shock when the former Governor, aged Senator, and legislators were expelled. Those who had been immigrants built a wall around the state, forming a new country, one in which freedom and responsibility were integrated with rational regulation. Unlike in the former United States, corporations had to pay hefty premiums just for the right to be in the burgeoning marketplace. No corporation got tax breaks, and still they begged to get inside the wall. Wealthy individuals entreated the people’s government to tax them even higher.

It seems everyone wanted to get away from the former United States. They had “made America great again,” for sure. Though they just as assuredly hadn’t realized it would become great only because the honest folk left all the toxic elements behind – the bigots, the racists, the misogynists, the liars. As more and more of the former American states joined with the Free State of America in forming a new nation, all that was left in the former USA were the takers, the ones who avoided taxes, scammed their employees, and skimmed off gillions as they ran up debts before strategically bankrupting the country in the hope no one would notice.

After the bankruptcy the Trumpians ran amok, demanding the government feed them. But under the new Putin-puppet all social programs were immediately eliminated. All investment in infrastructure and jobs and education was cut out completely. Eventually the Trumpians started fighting each other. No longer able to blame immigrants and minorities and women and the poor and non-fake Christians for their delusions, they turned on themselves. Militias fought militias once they realized their stockpiles of guns were no match for an actual military. And then the military left them to themselves.

Eventually they will annihilate enough of each other that us rationals can walk back in to retake the remainder of what once was America. Already half the population has come over; all that is left are a few enclaves of hatred, with no one left to hate besides themselves.

The long drive over, we’ve been told our application has been approved and we’ll be granted entry into the Free State of America. The mandatory sun block has been applied and we have proved our ability to contribute to society.

The waiting won’t be long now. We smile.

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Original Sin

11 Tuesday Oct 2016

Posted by davidjkentwriter in Creative, Fly in My Eye

≈ 10 Comments

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daily post, original

six-sons-photo The judge looked up from his reading and stared incredulously from his bench down at the pair seeking his blessings. Six of the couple’s children were seated behind them in various stages of inattention. An older woman, presumably a grandmother, was holding the youngest son.

Under the question “reason for divorce,” Uncle David had written in “attempted murder.”

“Umm, is this true? Keep in mind that I don’t take playing games in this court lightly.”

“Yes, your honor,” David said in quiet, unemotional voice.

“And how, exactly, was this murder attempt carried out?” The judge’s eyes looked closely at David’s wife as he asked. She seemed normal. Not the obviously homicidal type. Or so he would have guessed under other circumstances.

“Well, your honor, she stabbed me repeatedly with a kitchen knife.”

“I see. And did you deserve it?” This ought to shake his story.

“Yes, your honor.”

Okay, this was one for the record books, the judge thought, quickly snapping his gaping mouth shut. Domestic abuse is a serious business in his court. He had been known to throw the book at abusers even when the spouse refused to press charges.

“And what did you do that supposedly warranted this attack?”

“Original sin, your honor.”

Huh?

“Please explain.” This had to be a joke, right?

“Yes, your honor. It seems my sin was being born. Apparently I can do nothing right.”

“I see. Are those are your six children? And by that I mean, those six children resulted from the consensual intercourse between you and your wife, not some other situation?”

“Yes, your honor. These are our darling sons.”

“So apparently the two of you got along well enough?”

“Well, yes, your honor. We, well, we, um, you know… I’m sorry, your honor, do we have to discuss this with all these strangers watching?”

This was getting interesting. The divorce proceedings and talk of attempted homicide didn’t seem to phase him, but this topic is clearly uncomfortable for him. So, of course, the judge pursued it.

“What I’m trying to get at is how you could go from a relationship in which the two of you have produced six seemingly normal sons to one in which your wife stabs you with a kitchen knife and you claim – admit – that you deserved it. Can you give me any further insight into this matter?”

“Yes, your honor. You see, my wife and I very much enjoy our, um, intimate time together. We have six wonderful sons. Our youngest was born a month before my wife decided to kill me.”

“I see. Stop right there. Let me talk to your wife now. Ma’am, why did you stab your husband with a kitchen knife?”

“Well, sir. He promised me this sixth child would be a daughter.”

Divorce granted.

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[Daily Post]

Prescience, Or the Daring Boy, the Bike, and the Pond

04 Tuesday Oct 2016

Posted by davidjkentwriter in Memoir

≈ 10 Comments

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daily post, daring

Stingray bike “Brake, brake, brake,” the father beckons. And the son brakes.

Our usual walk takes us around the local pond, a place where we eagerly watch for our many geese friends. Early in the walk is a spot near an apartment complex where the paved walkway takes a slightly steep grade downward, turns to the right, then after about twenty feet of gentler grade, turns again to the left for an even steeper grade downward. Each section is twenty to thirty feet or so. The beginning of this “S” turn is where the forest starts, so that most of the three sections have a nice woodland feel and canopy.

Today’s walk brought some added excitement. The “brake, brake, brake” happened as we approached the first downward grade. The son, probably about 6 years old or so, boldly rode his small bike ahead of the father on his larger bike, with the perhaps 10-year-old daughter tagging along behind on a bike and pace that were just right.

The boy was beside me when he braked. Smooth, secure, comfortable. As so I thought.

As we made the first turn I mentioned to my companion that, had the boy not braked, he would go off the path. She agreed and showed concern for his well-being. I responded that I was less worried about the first down grade because he would simply crash into the woods. Perhaps dangerous to the point of scrapes and scratches, but more likely an innocuous lesson learned. My greater concern, I went on, was if he didn’t brake on the last down grade, because then he would end up in the pond. We chuckled a bit, comfortable that the father had his kids under his watchful eye.

About ten feet into the this last down grade my companion noted how high the water level in the pond was, not surprising given the heavy rains we’ve experienced lately. She remarked at how right I was, that if the kid didn’t brake going down this grade he would end up in the pond. In the midst of this conversation I suddenly hear again:

“Brake, brake, brake!”

That boy is daring, I thought, as the kid and the bike whizzed past me. A split second passed before I realized his feet were not braking – in fact, were not even on the pedals – and then I knew he wouldn’t be able to stop. Sprinting off after him it took me only three or four steps to reach the edge of the pond, by which time he, and his bike, had slightly less than gracefully plunged into the muddy waters. Arriving a step later and seeing that he emerged immediately and could walk back onto solid ground – thus not necessitating me to dive in after him – I helped him back up just as his father screeched his own bike to a halt and raced down to help, repeating to the son that he was okay as he dripped his way out of the water.

The greatest damage done was one shoe floating just out of reach. His father helped the boy as he cried, mostly from being startled by the events of those dreaded 5 seconds rather than any physical injury. The father thanked us for helping and tended to his son as the daughter looked on with the kind of look you knew meant her brother would never live down the incident.

And so we continued our trek around the pond, fascinated that we foretold the event that would happen, and the shock that it had actually occurred. We had to believe that the daring boy might be a bit less daring in the future, which despite helping to keep him dry, would be a shame.

David J. Kent is the author of Tesla: The Wizard of Electricity (2013) and Edison: The Inventor of the Modern World (2016) (both Fall River Press). He has also written two e-books: Nikola Tesla: Renewable Energy Ahead of Its Time and Abraham Lincoln and Nikola Tesla: Connected by Fate. His next book on Abraham Lincoln is due out in 2017.

[Daily Post]