Another Time

Another Time

A ringing telephone, a knock on the door, a siren on the street, each sound absorbed and interpreted by our imagination.

*

“It was just a dream, wasn’t it?

“I don’t know, you tell me.”

“You were there, you must know. Did it really happen?”

“What I do know is that two people can witness the same incident and come away with two different renditions of what took place.”

“Can’t you just this once humor me. You are a world traveler, I’ve only been out of this state twice, and both times to the same place just across the border. You have a perspective on things that I don’t. I would like to know what you think happened?”

“My travels have nothing to do with what occurred or how I interpreted what I saw. Your recommendation though is a good one, except for the one small change I would make. You are the one who always accuses me of dressing things down to make them look less important than they are. So, I suggest you tell me what you believe happened, and I will either concur, or tell you my recollection of events, then we can compare. If you still believe your version is correct, so be it.

If my travels in any way influence this matter, it would be to point out that Americans have the notion that they are reviled because of our authority in the world, meaning our economy and military might. I do not believe that to be the case. Putting on airs does not make you anything but pompous unless you are correct, and I do not see our policies or attitudes toward other countries as anything but depending however upon who is in charge of course. And that can depend on how they feel that day, or what they want for Christmas; both lend themselves to interpretation by those affected. So, I suggest…”

“There you go again. Every time I ask you for a straight answer, all I get is nebulous euphemisms that I don’t understand.”

“I’m sorry, but I am what I am, I say what I believe. Do you expect me to become someone else so that you might better understand what I’m attempting to show you?”

“No, but I would appreciate you sticking to the script. Not going off on a tangent that leaves me wondering if you’ve heard what I said, or playing games because you don’t know the answer, or feel it is beneath you to answer such stupid questions. That is all I meant.”

*

We went on playing a verbal form of tennis with no net for several hours. He is more educated than I am, but has a tendency to believe because of it, he is able to render my contributions to an argument irrelevant. I was attempting to understand how we continue to repeat the mistakes of our countries past, over and over again. Has he and everyone else forgotten our pre-emptive bombings in Iraq and later Afghanistan? The whole notion of pre-emptive anything makes me extremely nervous. Guessing at what someone might do is far different than what they are able or willing to do. To prejudge another’s actions seems grossly incompetent when conducting affairs that involve many countries. I am not attempting to say that other countries aren’t equally guilty, I am just more familiar with the history of my own.

The wars of the past when looked at in hind sight, which they always are, leave little doubt in my mind that they were engineered with a purpose in mind, and it wasn’t the purpose that we were told justified our countries actions. So, we are now on the verge of making the same mistakes history has proven were founded on belief, rather than fact. Egos and arrogance seem to dance to the music they have created and performed for our benefit. Only later do we see that the justification was subjective. The objective was chosen and then the fishing began to find facts that implied they verified their assumption. It is only later after the dead have been hailed as patriots and heroes and parades held, that we realize they died needlessly to enhance the blotted egos of those who ran the con.

Although shameful and costly it is not the disease of any one man or philosophy, it rises from purposeful obscurity on both ends of the political system. Those who would engage in war, would depend upon who has the will to manipulate facts to benefit their agenda at our expense. I am not a student of history, or politically motivated, but have grown tired of being told one thing, only to find out that it has been supposedly “taken out of context,” mine. Most decisions that have impacted my life and societies in general, have come from the idealism that indemnifies that the answers are well reasoned, while the questions regarding the necessity to implement them are deemed to be asked from an emotional standpoint, and therefore not relevant as they are the experts on facts, and we are not. The idea that experts are not influenced by emotion is ridiculous. What needs to happen is that emotion, (9/11, shock and aw, 20yrs. In Afghanistan) should not only be included, but be a vital part of any decision-making process as it is often the harbinger of deceit.

*

I find myself at times theorizing when I can’t sleep. I find it helps if I slip out of bed, and find my chair by the window. The lights comfort me for a reason I can’t explain. Perhaps it the contradiction they pose. Lights prevent me from seeing the stars, but take me there.

It is that time when sleep gives way to waking dreams that aren’t really dreams, but subconscious revelations that give us the chance to delve into the unexplained and unreasoned absurdity we find difficult to comprehend when awake. It, I believe, is a way to ignore the norms that confine our actions and thoughts by wrapping them in civility, no matter the cost it may inflict upon us.

The sound of bells finds my haze. They do not belong, yet they are here. I could ignore them, but it may be too late for that. I’ve begun to lose the obscurity necessary to abandon reason and embrace truth.

“The ringing persists as I…”

“You going to get that. Christ, it’s 3:00 in the morning. Who calls at this hour unless it’s to deliver bad news. My dad hasn’t been well, I hope he’s not…”

“Go back to sleep.”

*

“You do know what time it is. What is so important that it couldn’t wait until a more reasonable hour? She thinks the worst every time something out of the ordinary happens. You should know that by now. So, what is it that causes you to intrude on our sanctuary?

“Were you asleep?....didn’t think so. I was thinking of what we had agreed to this afternoon and I wondered if you have rehearsed your story yet? Got it ready for publication? It is all over the news. I know you don’t watch what you refer to as “Pablum for the masses, but I do. So, you ready to play?”

I hadn’t really thought much about our discussion until that very moment. I considered his request on the subway ride home, but not in the way I believe he is expecting.

“Why not? So, I’m to tell you what I observed and then you are going to suggest I injected this or that, to satisfy my need to find the defendant guilty?”

“I don’t know if I’d go that far. I know you don’t care for the man, but he is the…”

“Yah, spare me the hyperbole. I heard what he’d spouted previously and all that happened today confirmed to me that he was right in assuming, not that no one cares, and that the law is filled with loop holes, but if you have connections and money you can buy justice.”

“I asked you to give me your recollection of events, not a political diatribe that you and half the country can’t wait to pin the tail on. Just the facts, Sir!”

“OK. We were about to go to lunch, when out of nowhere the concrete valley echoed with the sounds of sirens. A number of police had assembled across from us, and the streets that encompassed us were cordoned off. We were across the street from the Flatiron Building on Fifth Avenue. I found myself huddled in a crowd behind a seven-foot woman, who blocked any chance I had at a view of what was happening. You being much taller were able to view the scene and were kind enough to relay what you saw to me, despite the giant woman’s condemning looks. After a time I tired of the blind view allowed me and forced my way toward the building. The crowd had grown in size and if it had not been for the police presence, and the arrival of several black SUVs, I would have abandoned the theatrics of the hour and you, and made my way into the restaurant.

The type of atmosphere generated by the crowd and the police raised people’s awareness. We usually see that type of thing only at the filming of another block buster movie, or a celebrity is shopping, attempting to decide which shoes are best suited to her mood of the day.”

“Stick to the story line. You are injecting personal views that have nothing to do with what happened. You are too relay the events to me as they happened, as accurately as possible without imbedding your sentiments in the descriptions. You agreed, OK?”

“You’re right, sorry. There were four vehicles flanked by men in black suits wearing sunglasses, although it was a cloudy day. Is that what you want to hear?”

“Keep going, don’t leave out details, leave out sentiment, details are as important as the action.”

“ The third vehicle’s door is opened by a suit and a plump… no, strike that. A large man gets out of the vehicle and stands on the sidewalk. I still had no idea who he was or why they were there. I watched while he and those surrounding him made their way down Fifth Avenue. As he moved closer I recognized the swagger, and of course the hair. It was, as you know, the…”

“Yes, I do know, go on. You are making my job more difficult with the superfluous things you interject. I know they make you feel good, but it does not aid me in the responsibility of having to check your observations against the reality of what happened. Remember, I was there.”

“The cluster of men stopped at the end of the Flatiron Building on 5th Avenue and 22nd street. The light was red, and although there was no traffic they waited impatiently before proceeding. They were heading toward us. I assumed that it was one of those spur of the moment things politicians do to keep the attention of their devoted followers on themselves. OK, OK, I know.

He stepped from the curb and stopped. The crowd, of which I was a member was following his every move, no doubt wondering what he was doing in the middle of Manhattan. There had been no warning he would be campaigning in the heart of the city. I watched as they stood in the street looking at the crowd that had assembled across from them. They seemed to be discussing what I thought would be logistics because of the safety concerns; the crowd had not been vetted for possible weapons.

He turned suddenly and spoke to the officer standing nearest him. The officer appeared to be bewildered by whatever he was saying. He then reluctantly unfastened the strap on the guns stock, took the pistol from its holster, and held it…”

“Yes, I was there. The reluctance on the part of the officer was your interpretation of his reaction to a question, if it was a question. Go on.”

“He looked at the crowd as the officer began preparing to put the weapon back into its holster. He grabbed the gun from the officer’s hand and pointed it directly at him. The officer appeared to freeze.He did not attempt to retrieve the weapon, only look at those around him for assurances he wasn’t about to die.

You can’t tell me that everyone immediately surrounding him, and he holding a gun, was not stupefied to the point of inactivity.”

“I’ll allow it, but get on with it. I didn’t ask you to write a saga about the event.”

“He continued to wave the officer’s gun around like it was a toy, and he was playing some game they weren’t aware of or understood. The officers surrounding him stood ridged, their eyes seeking guidance from one another. Then he pointed the gun at the officer between him and the crowd of onlookers. The officer jumped sideways before the gun discharged. A noticeable gasp came from the crowd. Disbelief, shock, and confusion ensued. People began running, only a few stayed behind to aid the elderly man who lay on the sidewalk bleeding. One officer wrestled the gun from him while the others pulled him toward their line of vehicles.

Someone in the crowd must have called for an ambulance, or the ambulance was stationed there, because one arrived before the processions of vehicles hurriedly left the scene. The elderly man lay not moving as the EMTs jumped from the truck and headed toward him. Those that remained became the island of humanity in a naked environment void of movement and sound, holding on to the last vestiges sanity. I was in the doorway of the restaurant continuing to observe the aftermath of the incident. After several minutes one of the men attending the victim spread a thin blanket over the victim covering his face, while the other returned to the vehicle to… I’d assumed to bring a gurney.

And that was that. They lifted him on to the gurney, placed him in the ambulance and were gone. But for the blood on the sidewalk, it was as if nothing had happened. No one stepped forward to hold a press conference, no police, no reporters, just those on the street watching the ambulance disappear. It wasn’t until that evening that I saw the footage of the incident taken by one of the crowd members. The explanation given, contrary to what was being shown of the incident, was that there had been an accidental discharge of a gun, an elderly man was struck by a bullet and died at the scene. The focus quickly shifted to the Los Angeles protests which were claimed to be violent. No footage of the violence was shown, only the supposed aftermath; a burning car, teargas plumes enveloping bystanders, and a broken storefront window.

I imagine you’ve seen the news coverage of the event, and can only concur that he was responsible for the man’s death. Or did you find some blatant misinterpretation of the events I detailed? What, if anything, would you add or delete if I may be so inquisitive?”

He said nothing for a minute as though contemplating his response. “The facts, as you know, are not always what they seem. The obvious is often times the result of our eyes seeing what we want them to see, not necessarily the totality of what occurred. What you described was accurate from your point of view. You couldn’t hear what the protection detail was discussing, nor do we know why the gun was allowed to leave the officers possession. Or for that matter, who actually fired the bullet that struck the elderly man. All we saw was him pointing a gun at an officer.Who shot into the crowd will have to be determined. For all we know the man was killed by someone in the crowd. The autopsy report will confirm the cause of death, and forensics will determine the direction the bullet originated from. Like I said, there are many unanswered questions.Your depiction of what occurred may vary greatly from what actually happened. I’m sure there will be an official inquiry, and the details will be released after they have been substantiated. These things take time. They do not want to make a mistake. Peoples reputations are a stake. ButGood job overall. You should get some rest; you looked tired today. Goodnight!”

He hung up before I could contest his interpretation of events. It takes time? To what? Find a reasonable explanation for the events that took place? The usual will occur I’m sure. The investigation will be inconsequential in that no definitive determination will be made as to who fired the weapon, or where the bullet originated. The day after tomorrow we will be back to being concerned if our neighbor is an illegal gang member; gang tattoos, not Caucasian, here to steal my antique furniture collection from El IKEA.

The wheels on the bus go round and round, round and round… and where they stop nobody knows.

We can land a rocket on a moving asteroid, but can’t determine who pulled the trigger, or from what direction a gun was fired. All we have is the certainty that hearts and prayers will go out to the family of the victim, and that we should now vote as though our lives depended upon it.

*

“Who was that?” I call into the darkness while attempting to avoid her hanging Spider plant. My only reason for hope sits looking out the window.

“That was Gracie. Did I tell you she was in Australia? She forgot it was 3:00 O’clock in the morning here. Sorry about waking you, I couldn’t sleep.

“That’s alright. Let’s go back to bed and try and forget that we exist.”

“OK!”