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The Beautiful Truth

By       Message David Glenn Cox     Permalink
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It wasn't cold much, Georgia cold maybe, chill in the evening, but not enough to require a coat. I'm sitting alone in the warehouse, beer in hand; I'm contemplating the new universe. Six beers in, I'm leaning on the back of a car in the parking lot, staring angrily at the moon, as silence turns to rage. I guess it's like 9-11; you can't fully appreciate the true significance of the moment at the time. You have to live it, like a bad past or a bad dream. Only then, can you look back and grasp where you've come from, where you are now, living the experience of this era.

On the Road, Bound for Glory, Grapes of Wrath, thinking it's personal, when jumping Jehoshaphat, Christ himself couldn't have been saved from the largest financial collapse in seventy years. Just throw down the bait and watch the suckers scurry. Promise them tomorrow, promise them anything, but take their money. I was on the Internet in a public library in Lawrenceville, Georgia. Beside me in the next cubicle, a woman weeps into her cell phone, "I don't have my last pay stub. Well" because I didn't know it would be my last pay stub. I was laid off over the summer. I've got two kids; it will take a month to get a copy from the Board of Education."

Welcome to the snake pit; a 25 or 26 year-old, college educated, single mother of two, cast off. Sorry, better luck next time! What an awful, wretched society that is. I met this soldier on a bus one night; he was going home for the holidays in Oklahoma. A carpenter by trade, he'd joined the National Guard to go to school. Nearing his home, he took pride in showing me the buildings he'd built. He hadn't been there in three years; his last deployment was in Kosovo. He said it was a plumb and I reckoned he was right. He was worried his kids wouldn't know him; he and their mother having divorced.

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I who am I? Born at the pinnacle of American prosperity to parents raised during the last great depression. I was the youngest child of the youngest children born almost between the generations and that in fact clouds and obscures who it is that I (more...)

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