THIRTY-THREE PACES BETWEEN TWO TREES

THIRTY-THREE PACES BETWEEN TWO TREES

By Andy Weddington

Saturday, 30 January 2021

Chaos is the score upon which reality is written. - Henry Miller

Since the second week of December two Christmas trees, lit or not, aglow our home.

Still standing. 

Early this morning long before most people stir, like every morning the past seven weeks, I turned on the big tree miniature multi-color lights to extinguish the dark but not the quiet from the family room.

Pretty the light. Calming. 

Then I went to the smaller tree, with patriotic decorations only and too miniature multi-color lights, in the library to likewise temper the dark. 

This morning was the first time consciously counting paces; I don't know why.  

Thirty-three. 

I retraced to verify.

Thirty-three. 

And then returned to the library to turn on an inherited antique toll lamp fitted with flicker bulb that oddly enough makes a large painting - of a Navy funeral detail carrying a flag-draped coffin - just above the glass globe come to life. 

That small element flickering bright orange as a candle airs reverence like a church deep red votive. 

Sitting in a comfortable chair, painting studied.

I was there.

At the funeral. 

The old cemetery in Council Bluffs, Iowa and it was a bitter cold, gray, snowy December afternoon a couple years ago.

To fend off weather, somewhat, I wore black watchcap, long dark gray wool overcoat, and a long bright red wool scarf; for small sketchbook and pencil, no gloves.  

A native son was recently identified and family opted for him returned home - USS Oklahoma crew 79 years ago Pearl Harbor, Hawaii (07 December 1941). 

The painting came from a couple of small pencil sketches and memory. I gifted it to the detail's senior officer. 

Photographs of the ceremony record the moment, sterilely. The painting illuminates, emotionally. The photograph is not the painting. And neither is having been there; privilege and honor. 

Sacrifices. I was thinking about sacrifices. And all the people who have sacrificed for America. Selflessly. All of them. All of them! 

Last evening we dined in a favorite quaint cafe in the tastefully revitalized downtown a few miles from home. White, soft yellow-orange actually, miniature lights, inside, strung around the big picture window looking onto the main drag practically magnetic.

The reflections in the glass amplifying wattage to just right. 

Something refreshing noticed the past couple of weeks and on the walks from and to car last evening.

More people without masks.

Civil disobedience? 

That sense of, "Enough!"? 

There's feel in the air.

It's like the citizenry is one giant capped carbonated beverage and government is vigorously shaking. 

There's eruption coming.

Was the little guys taking down the big guys on Wall Street this week past (another) sign?

All the particulars of GameStop befuddle me. I've asked a longtime friend, economist extraordinaire, to translate for a simpleton. He's working on it, per email this morning. 

But what I do understand is some good smart people outsmarted some not-so-good smart people at their own game. Legally. And technology made it possible. 

Serious money, as in billions, changed hands and not the way the outsmarted wanted. 

And a lot of people cheer whilst the outsmarted boil.

In a form of gambling, David took down Goliath is one analogy opined in explanation by an "expert." 

Gamble I do not. So no windfall. Nor loss. Envy? No. 

Real smart people invest; with patience comes reward and riches - of all sort - and peace of mind.

"Liberal scientist" caught my attention this morning. 

Language foopah.

"Scientist" means objective pursuer. Observe. Data. Collect data. Analysis. Interpretation (logical). Facts. Truth. Repeatable. Defendable. Irrefutable. 

Any preceding descriptor negates "scientist."

Now a scientist may be liberal, conservative, stupid, etc., but those are conditions not attributable to all. That is, a scientist who may be liberal is a completely different matter than the negating label "liberal scientist."

To be clear, someone language sloppy can be generally considered always sloppy with language. But sloppy language may only be an exception to someone generally considered competent with language.

There is such thing as 'precision of language.' 

The language sloppy and sloppy language problem is real and causes real problems. We live those problems. We're living those problems. 

For example, I heard report yesterday the Congresswoman known as AOC accused Senator Ted Cruz of trying to murder her (presume in reference to events on 06 January at the Capitol). Politics? Hysteria? Agenda? Sloppy language? Language Sloppy? That one absurd remark is enough for a book.

Moving on.  

What does word order have to do with Christmas trees, burying a long ago murdered Sailor, patriots, mask rebellions, carbonated beverages vigorously shaken, politicians, and Wall Street?

Not sure.

Yet. 

But connected, somehow; no doubt. 

And if I can plot this and other chaos over time until a 3-D strange attractor eventually emerges then figure out an algorithm that would make me a scientist (as well as an artist) creating conditions for one hell of a fire drill in China. Russia, too.

Repeatable might be a problem.

Anyway, snow in our forecast tomorrow; another data point.   

The trees might come down next week. 

Might.

Finally ...

The number 33: Is considered a Master Number and tells us all things are possible; is the number of vertebrae in a normal human spine; and is, on the Newton Scale, the boiling point of water (and blood). 

Coincidences? Not in this life. 

I'm trustworthy. 

A few days ago arrived card from the Sheriff substantiating. After signing with usual signature it was suggested laminating would extend the card's life. Done. And now that card concealed in my opposite hip pocket with hopes of never having to draw.  

I'm also loyal, helpful, friendly, courteous, kind, obedient, cheerful, thrifty, brave, clean, and reverent. 

Scout around. Ask any boy. 

Add honorable, courageous, and committed.

Ask a Marine. Or Sailor. 

And intolerant of anyone and anything, whatsoever, un-American. 

Cowardice emboldens bullies. 

Stand for something. Stand your ground. 

Calm courage triumphs.