Sunday, December 30, 2012

This Is Sparta! (Not)


     If you think about it, to tell a child to take the path of kindness and selflessness is asking a child to suffer humiliation, setbacks and gauranteed frustration.  To love thy neighbor as thyself is a hard road to travel.   Sometimes I feel like teaching my kids to be polite, respectful and kind is only going to hinder their success in life.  It would probably be better, at least in the short term, to teach them to be wisely rude, opportunistically disrespectful and cunningly unkind (meaning, only be nice when people are looking).  It would probably be wiser to train my kids like the ancient Spartans taught their children.

      I can sympathize with the ancient Spartan approach to child rearing.  The Spartans, who taught their kids from early on to be warriors, notoriously trained their young children to fight.  Considering the world we are living in, that sounds about right.  Send them out to fight the snow wolf to squash their fears and expose them to the cold elements to callous their tender hearts. Teach them to be mean and biting because that is the wicked world they will live in. 

      For this world, as Machiavelli taught (to be ruthless. clever and cunning), and to be like Nietzsche’s survival of the fittest, ends justify the means, superman, we should probably teach our kids to raise the Spartan sword, grit their feral teeth, and take what they want, for after all, it’s a dog eat dog world.  The only response in my heart, against this Spartan wisdom comes from someone who tells me to teach my kids to love their neighbor as themselves.  

      But, to ask a child to travel this road with it’s dead ends, flat tires and foggy morning pile ups is like sending them into a horrific battle zone, full of clanging armor, swords and darkness when they are only armed with a lamp and a loaf of bread.   But, that is what they are to do.  They are called to be a light in a dark, mean world.  I want my kids to be like Jesus, not like the guy in that 300 video.  They are called to be a beacon of hope and peace, not vessels of fear and conquest.  But when I count the cost of what that actually means, it’s troubling.  They may be mocked, scoffed at and spit on.  Bringing light to a dark world of sword clanging Spartans, Cretins and Barbarians may not be popular.  It's much "cooler" to yell and swing a sword than to speak softly and hand out bread.    

Thursday, December 27, 2012

(Fiction) My Dad's In Space Patrol Chapter 2: We’re attacked!


Chapter 2: We’re attacked!

       I was hiding behind some supply boxes.  They were large styrosteel boxes of ready to eat meals.  Other boxes were loaded with water bottles and hydrosorbs or small devices that absorbed and purified moisture from the air.  I was clever and turned off the sensor that would detect my presence in this spot where I was crouching, so Dad had no idea. 

       Lift off was normal.  I had visited other planets with the family before, but it was still rather exciting.  I knew dad was at the controls so I snuck over to the small port window on the back door.  I could see New Umdin, an orange and green suface, rotating slowly and then getting smaller as we headed to dad’s first patrol zone: the mining colony.

      I quickly ran back to my secret spot behind the supply boxes as I knew, Will, my dad’s partner, would probably be back here soon to check things.  Will was kind of a greenhorn.  He was young and a little nervous, but he would never admit it.  He meant well and had a heart of gold. 
           
     Just as I heard Will come through the autodoors, “BOOM” I heard a terrible explosion and within a second our ship was shaken terrible.  I screamed and so did Will.  “What was that?” I said, forgetting that I was a stowaway.  “I don’t know,” said Will, also forgetting. Then he realized and did a double take.  He made a bug eyed look at me and said “What are you doing here, Tom?”  

to be continued...

 

(Fiction) My Dad's In Space Patrol: Chapter One

(This is a piece of science fiction I am working on)


My Dad’s In Space Patrol

 

Chapter 1: The History of the Colonies

 

I shouldn’t have done it: gotten onto the patrol ship, slipped aboard when Dad wasn’t looking, but I did.  I wanted to see what his day was like.  My Dad was tall: six foot three inches.  He wore a cool suit, with space worthy protective material and even laser proof protection built in: at least low-level laser blast protection. 

He was a patrol officer in the Colony Police Service.  He would take a daily trip across the solar system, The Dury Leev System, named for the star that supported all eleven planets, Dury Leev, which was Umdin for “beautiful guardian.” Dad, in his Patrol Vessel, would soon be stopping at mining stations, patrolling moon bases and visiting inhabited planets looking for trouble or just making a presence.  He was one of three officers assigned to the system.  His patrol ship was equipped with all kinds of cool gadgets including a zoom bike, and a terra-buggy for surface missions where he needed to get closer to the situation.

Today he would patrol a third of the system.  The solar system of Leev Tong Bova was broken into three parts: the mining area, the capital planet zone and the outer reaches where some planets were still largely unexplored. 

Our people had come from earth and Umdin, an alien ally of ours in the United Planets Cooperative.  The Umdins and humans, established a colony on the capital planet, New Umdin, many years ago before my father was even born. 

New Umdin was a planet much like earth.  It had a moderate climate, oceans, jungles and deserts, but New Umdin had one major difference from earth: it was even more beautiful.  The landscape was fantastic with deep canyons, filled with a variety of colorful life forms and high mountains loaded with brightly colored plants and animals unlike anything on earth.  But, the sky on Umdin was blue and the grass and trees were in many ways the same.  Although Scooter trees were known to get up and walk; sometimes after rooting in one spot for many years. 

The mining colonies, the space stations and outer reach areas where rogues and misfits of the colonies went to live were all under the dominion of the Constitutional Republic of New Umdin.

For the most part there were no known sentient beings in the New Umdin system.  This was a good thing and one reason why the founders settled here.    There was a tribe of Gumfish (not really fish and not really gum) who lived on the planet, New Australia, but their sentience was debated and besides all this, they were left alone by our people and allowed to live in peace and they posed little threat to us as their technology was far behind our own.  The Troggs (colonials called them Troggs, but they called themselves the beautiful ones, or how they would pronounce it “Ung-shiv-warts-weenaws” were also a race of humanoids who were not considered sentient, although this too was debated. 

The Troggs were a brutal race of furry, stocky men.  They looked like our old earth cave men, but they had dog like, clawed hands, they were covered in thick fur, they had tails and they had forked tongues.  They were only five feet tall, but very muscular and broad shouldered.  Our best estimate was that their IQ were about 60, but their perception of their environment, their ability to hide and stalk prey, was far beyond our own. The troggs lived only in the outer reaches and posed little threat to the inner system colonies. 

There were tales of other species, of alien contact.  There were even myths, but none of it had been proven.  The Swamp dragons had all been extinct before I was even born.  The moon-bats were all killed by early colonial hunters.  The giant beetles were also killed by hunters.  At some point animal rights groups began preserving land for the many creatures, some of whom were dangerous to colonists.  These preserves became tourist attractions, but the threats of old, the dangers that the early settlers faced were mostly gone. 

Today, my Dad was going to patrol Precinct One.   He would check out the mining colony on asteroid Delphus.  He would scan the atmosphere of New Australia for residual traces of warp drive fuel.  He would orbit the moons of New New Jersey and finally he would land on Ursala and patrol by terra-buggy and even meet with the Gumfish to see how they were doing.  My dad cared about the Gumfish, but other patrol officers thought he was wasting his time.  Space Patrol Theme Song!

Wednesday, December 26, 2012

Christmas Time Was Here

"So this is Christmas...and what have you done?" sings John Lennon, over and over on the radio.  In between the cool sacredness Bing Crosby's White Christmas and the smooth sincerity of Nat King Cole,  John Lennon interrupts the joyous melancholy of Vince Guaraldi's Charlie Brown piano and makes us feel guilty.  All of this sung from Lennon's white Steinway grand piano, at his ridiculously large mansion, no doubt.  Christmas is over, so we won't be hearing that song again for another year.  Goodbye to the smoky pipes of Burl Ives.  Goodbye to the sultry voice of Mariah Carey singing All I Want For Christmas. It's all done now.

Dump Day, fortunately, came right after Christmas this year.  I brought the torn wrapping paper, the Lego boxes, the random cellophane pieces and the empty bottles of wine to the dump.  "Did you have a nice holiday?" I asked the lady who works there.  "Well, it was fine.  But, unlike you (who needs therapy when you have an ongoing conversation with your town dump attendant?), when you don't have kids, Christmas isn't the same.  But for you, well, it's probably great."  She's right.  I told her, I don't even remember what we did before the kids, and I don't. 

"Oh, you could work at a soup kitchen-that'll cheer you up!" I imagined saying to her.  No, that would be no help.  Christmas is mostly for kids.  It's true.  It's for kids and their parents and grandparents.  It really is.  Let's be honest, without one of those identities, you're at the soup kitchen. 

It's good to get rid of all that trash. All those shameful clods of red wrapping paper: a testimony to what we have: money(some), jobs and most of all, a nice family. 

Unlike Christmas and the holiday music on the radio, the laundry comes every week, all year long. Drove past the laundry mat on the way home from the dump.  I could see a large man, blue winter hat, like a lumberjack, flannel shirt, folding his laundry.  I'm so glad we don't have to go inside there: inside the town laundry mat with its hot soapy smells.  But, it's nice to know it's there if we needed it.  I'm grateful our machines still work.  This reminds me of another blessing: friends.  Friends who know how to fix laundry machines (thanks Jim).  I imagine it ain't so bad in the laundry mat.  It's probably heated.  Does it have one of those old candy dispensers?  The kind where you pull the handle to get your Milky Way Bar?  To this day, I still think of a Milky Way candy bar and I can almost smell the milk chocolate when I smell the lilac, chemical experiment scent of 20th century style laundry soap.  All of this is from a memory of childhood: when my mom had to use the town laundry mat.  It wasn't all bad: she'd buy me a candy bar.  Does a radio play inside the room?  Steam and the sound of the machines are probably all that guy can hear. 

The Lego boxes?  Take them away.  They are a reminder of the lavish money spent on our children. And such frivolity: tiny bricks of plastic to mess the time away.  The cellophane only reminds us of the food we shared with loved ones.  The bottles of wine remind us of the parents we cooked for and kissed.  The Godiva booze, little liquor bottles inside ridiculously large socks, no normal person could possibly wear these socks, these remind us of our family too: my wife and I and the pleasure we'll enjoy together in each other's company (that's a bit exxagerated---forgive me).  All these wrinkly paper reminders of our wealth. Quickly! Shove it into the compactor.  Don't let anyone see our little piece of the pie.  Maybe they'll be jealous or maybe they'll laugh.  Yes, maybe they'll laugh at our little piece of the pie---get rid of it quickly before they either get jealous or laugh.  Back to normal. 

So this is Christmas and what have I done?  Well, I had Christmas with my lovely wife, four beautiful kids and my two loving parents; that's what I've done. Now, I'm going bake cookies and play with my kids.    I'm going to drink a Mike's Classic Margarita and eat Peppercorn Triscuits.  And then I'm going to load up my stove with wood and the smoke will billow up the pipe into the snowy night of our first Nor' Easter and my sultry wife will sing me to sleep (something like that). And that's it for another year. 






https://soundcloud.com/#nateherrick/christmas-time-sam-joe