The Pursuit of Liberty: Chapter 2

        In their village, light showers that lasted a half hour were common anytime of the year. The bad storms were rare. Every few years there would be a string of terrible storms that would cause a lot of damage. The legend in their village was that the rain gods cried when a child would die in the river. As the rain would pour it would flood the river and there would be destruction done to the people near the river. The main part of the village rested on top of the hill at the base of the ridge of the mountain so most of the water would run down and cause little damage to the houses and shops in the center of the village. Since the village was on a hill the roads leading up to the village were dangerous during these storms.      

              As the sky turned dark, the baker reached behind him into the carriage and grabbed his hood. He handed it to Liberty and told her to put it on. Just as she finished putting on the hood, the rain began to pour. It beat against them and the dirt road quickly turned to mud. They were still five miles from their shop and another mile from their home. The rain picked up and the baker could only see a couple feet in front of the horse. He thought that if he hurried they could make it home before the storm became dangerous, but he was beginning to think that that was a mistake.

              “Slow down dad! We are going to wreck!”

              “We have to make it Libby, this storm is going to be a bad one and it is only going to get worse the longer we are out here.”

                Just then a streak of white hot light flashed across the sky and struck a large pine tree near the road. It fell across the road right in front of their horse. The tree spooked the horse and he tried to turn around. The baker gripped the reigns with all of his might, but the horse’s fear overpowered him. As the horse turned, the wheel of the carriage hit the tree. There was a loud crack and Liberty was flown from the carriage over the tree. The baker maintained his footing on the carriage. The trace holding the horse to the carriage snapped and the baker lost his grip on the slick reigns and the horse fled down the road. The baker jumped from the carriage just as it flipped.

                “Liberty! Where are you?!” He cried. 

                He searched frantically for his daughter. He found her lying in the mud unconscious, but still breathing. As he picked her up, her eyes shot open and she screamed.

               “My leg! Stop it! Stop! You’re hurting my leg!”

                As he turned to look down at her leg, even though it was dark he could tell her leg was bent in an unnatural direction at the knee. He persisted in carrying her to the closest maple tree and laying her down. It was as dry as it was going to get for her tonight. His thoughts were racing. He had to get her home, get the doctor, get their horse, and make sure the carriage was safe! He froze as she continued to scream.

“I am going to have to carry you into to town! The doctor’s house is only 2 miles away!” He was yelling so that she could hear him through the wind and the rain and her constant screams. “You have to calm down! Breathe Liberty breathe.”

                He decided to wait until she calmed down before they began their journey again. Afraid that she was going to pass out, he held her in his arms and told her that it was going to be okay. Slowly she began to quiet her screams to a whimper. Her tears were still flowing and the pain was only becoming worst. The baker knew that he had to get her to the doctor soon.

                “Alright, on the count of three I am going to pick you up and I am going to carry you. Okay? One, two…”

                “NO! Dad stop! I am not going anywhere! You get the doctor and bring him here!”

The baker looked into his little girl’s eyes full of tears and felt lost. He could not just leave her out on the side of the road during a storm, but if he didn’t do something quick he was afraid… He got up and went to the carriage. There was still a small loaf of bread and his canteen left. He looked in his pack and saw that his wife had packed them some cheese and berries. He gathered them all quickly together. Then rushed back to Liberty, he laid everything out that she would need while he was gone.

                “Are you sure you will be fine out her all by yourself? I won’t be long maybe a half hour.”

                “Daddo hurry! It hurts!”

                With that he leaned down and kissed her on the forehead and then he was off running at full speed.

*Check back next Monday when Liberty meets a mysterious traveler who will help her in her time of need.*

Life Is Just Too Precious

This weekend I spent time visiting my grandmother (she will be mad that I didn’t call her Nana). We talked over sweet ice tea and some juicy watermelon. She told me stories about my grandfather, when he was a teenager and how he used to sneak out of high school and smoke cigarettes with her brother. She said they got into so much trouble back in those days. I cherish that time with my Nana. She tells the greatest stories! For one Christmas I gave her a journal and asked her to write down all of her stories so that I will be able to remember them and read them to my own children one day. I am pretty sure she thought that I just didn’t want to hear her rattle them off anymore. That could not have been further from the truth! Her stories give life to something that is dead to me.  My father and grandfather have both passed away and these stories bring them back to life, even if just for a moment. These stories are precious to me because they are about life.

                I think that everyone can agree that life is valuable. We all value our own lives. Everyone has a natural right to their own life. We all have the right to existence, to live without others being allowed to take our life. Now everything I have said up until this point, I assume that the majority of people agree with me. Liberals, Conservatives, Communists, Socialists, and Anarchists all agree that life is valuable, thus they are so valiant in defending their philosophy of how to protect life or create the most valuable society for life. The point at which disagreement starts is when discussing, “when exactly does life begin?”  Some may argue that life begins at birth, others when a fetus can exist  on its own, a number of others believe at conception, and there are a few that believe that mothers can decide when life begins up to a year or two of the child being born.

                I am not so naïve to think that I will be able to change anyone’s mind so I will just give my opinion to open the doors either in your mind or in discussion. I believe that all DNA that makes up the human anatomy is present in the zygote. For those that do not understand the medical term, that is where the sperm and ovum unite. I believe that is where life begins. The rest of life DNA is adapting to its environment. Sometimes it will not be able to speak, think, eat, walk, and make a living on its own, but that is the way life is. There have been several instances in my childhood where my mother had to take care of me when I was unable to do some of those things and if she had not she would have been held accountable. What difference does it make if her baby is in her body or out of her body? She is still responsible until the child has become an adult.

                Many people think that it is the right of a woman to do what she wants with her body. I agree with that statement. I believe that any human being should be allowed to ingest whatever substance they want whenever they want to. The issue I have is that when a woman is pregnant, I believe that she has a human being inside of her from the very start of her pregnancy. She is not only affecting her body, but someone else’s. If you want to harm your body then go for it. But if in harming your body you are also harming someone else’s, then it is wrong. Any form of force outside of self-defense is wrong.

                That is my view on abortion. You might not agree and you might be angry or excited about what I just said. I don’t really care. The issue is that we have an epidemic in America. We have a group of individuals that believes this is okay and it is causing a crumble in our morality. We have 2,149 children being aborted every single day. Do you realize that there are 5,000 adults every day that agree with and practice abortion? That is one doctor and one mother. You can say that these women have the right to what is in their uterus and have the right to remove that parasite, but please remember you once use to be that parasite.

                Now, a common argument for abortion is that if this practice is outlawed, there would still be abortion. I completely agree. You cannot force people to believe what you believe, the war on drugs can attest to that. The problem is that we have a holocaust-like event taking place in America and we cannot sit by and do nothing. What we have to do is try to change the mind of the public then the law will follow. We have to speak out to these women that are having children and do not think that they can make it. We cannot demand that these teenagers and young adults keep their children and then allow them and their children to starve. This does not mean that we enable these people through welfare, but that we help out those near us through charity.

                Charity and love are what should bring us together. My father died when I was nine. My mother was left to raise four children by herself. There were so many people that helped her care for us. Teens from our local church helped with the yard work and babysitting. My uncles helped when the basement was leaking. I remember others bringing us meals. So many people pulled together and then my mother was able to provide for her children. On the other end, I watched my grandfather lose his memory for almost 10 years. I saw my grandmother, my Nana, stand by his bed side for all those years. Using her nursing skills that she had learned over the years and providing for him while he could no longer think, read, eat, walk, and communicate. She spoke for him and provided for his needs when he could not. I call on us to speak up and provide for those that cannot, whatever age they might be from conception to 96. It should not matter what stage of life a person is in, every life is valuable. Let every innocent human being know that there are those of us that cannot and will not sit by and watch their abuse, because life is just too precious.

The Pursuit of Liberty: Chapter 1

Preface

This is a story that I wrote for my wife. This first chapter has a lot of inside jokes. The following chapters that will be released every Monday evolve into an epic story of a young woman searching for truth, justice and liberty. If you enjoy feel free to comment and share with your friends. 

Chapter 1

A long time ago in a land far, far away was a village just under the ridge of a mountain side. In the middle of the village, across the street from the school house lived a baker, his wife and two children. The baker was a generous man. On every Saturday he would go with his daughter to the other side Hetvenöt Street. This is where the poorest of the poor lived in their village. Most of the people living on this side of the Hetvenöt Street were orphans, single mothers, and widows. When they would get there the baker would go and talk with the leaders of the orphanage and with some of the men that came to help. While his daughter, Liberty, would go and give bread to the people.

“Bread for the poor!” Liberty would say, “Come and get your bread.”

Now she did not say ‘bread for the poor’ in spite, but because when she was younger, people who were not from this side of Hetvenöt Street would come and try to take the bread. Liberty charged the people two farthings for a loaf of bread. This was to give the people pride. The baker always said, “Nothing is free, even salvation had its cost!” He believed that by charging the poor for their food it would encourage them to find work. By working they could earn money and with money they could throw off the chains of poverty and live as free people. Liberty of course thought that this was silly. She did not see the need to charge the orphans for the bread. She said that people were born free. Slavery is a mindset and has nothing to do with the money. She believed that God is the one who granted freedom, not money, people, or government.

She loved her father and had great respect for him. The baker of course was proud of his daughter. She was becoming a strong, educated, and virtuous young woman. Recently more than lately, she had started to challenge him on his philosophy of life. Not that it would ever appear that way, because the discussion always ended with ‘Father is always right’ and a hug.

After they were finished selling all the bread, Liberty would take the money that she had earned from selling the bread and give it to her father. He would then give it to the missionaries that ran the orphanage. While he was doing that Liberty would gather the children from the orphanage around and tell them stories. Today, she was telling the story about a princess named Aurora called Sleeping Beauty. She was never able to finish the stories with the children in one day, so it always took weeks to finish the stories. She had just gotten to the part of the story where Princess Aurora is all grown up and is singing the woods. “What was Aurora singing?” One of the little girls asked Liberty.

“It was a beautiful song that caused the birds in the sky and the leaves in the trees to join with her.” Liberty answered. 

“Sing it for us Libby! Please!” The children were getting really excited, because they loved Liberty and loved her stories.

“Okay, okay but you all have to join together with me. I need the boys to make the sound of the leaves in the trees 'whoosh, whoosh' and the girls have to make the sound like the birds 'chirp chirp tweet'." Liberty turned to a small boy with dark skin and said, “Joi, you have a big part to play. I need you to be the owl. Can you say hoot hoot…hoot hoot?”

Joi’s face burst into a huge smile, “Of course Miss Libby, HOOT! HOOT! HOOT! HOOT!”

As the children began to make the noises, Liberty began:

I wonder, I wonder
I wonder why each 
Little bird has someone
To sing to sweet things to
A gay little love melody?

I wonder, I wonder
If my heart keeps singing
Will my song go winging
To someone who'll find me
And bring back a love song to me?

As Liberty finished the song, the children clapped and cheered. They had been told to by the baker that anytime a woman sings or tells a story you should reward her with applause. Joi said, “Miss Libby I bet you sound just like Princess Aurora.”

 Liberty leaned down and kissed Joi on his cheek. His face became red and he wrapped his arms around her legs. Liberty knew it was not right to have favorites with the children, but if she was allowed she would take Joi home. Joi was a four years old orphan. He had been left at the missionaries door step when he was about one. His left leg had been broken when the missionaries had received him. The missionaries had called in one of their special doctors to come in and examine his leg when they received him. The doctor had told the missionaries that the leg seemed to have been broken for months and had not healed correctly. Every year the missionary doctor would come and give Joi a new brace. That brace had to last him a year so part of the year it was too big and the last part of the year it was too small. The other children made fun of Joi until Liberty had started to be especially kind to him.

As Joi was hugging Liberty, the baker came back and told Liberty that they had to go. The children all whined and asked if she could stay longer. She told them not to worry, because next week the Prince finds Princess Aurora in the woods and there is a battle with the Witch and the dragon. The children became excited and started talking about what they thought would happen. Only a few noticed that Liberty and her father where leaving.

The baker had already prepared the wagon and they were all set to go. Liberty waved to the children and then it seemed they were gone. Her father whistled the song that she had been singing. Liberty wished she could do more for the children.

“Daddo, isn’t there anything we could do for those children?”

“What else can we do Libby? They all need their fathers and mothers to take care of them, to provide for them. People need to start taking responsibility of the choices they make and their consequences. You know back in my time, men provided for their wives and children. Now all these men are running off and to go find gold, other women, and wars. Those children need their families and we cannot provide that.”

“But Daddo, that is the problem not the solution.”

He smiled at her, “You a bright young girl and I am proud of you, you know that?”

Liberty did not smile, because she felt that he was changing the subject and still not addressing the issue. She knew that if you did not smile back with that he would be forced to be kept in the conversation. This was one trick that her mother taught her.

“Your right Libby, I am focused on the problem, but I don’t know if there is a clear solution. We provide them with a means to obtain food. Whenever, we have extra money we have tried to hire them. I work with the council and we are trying to clean up the other side of Hetvenöt Street. I am not sure there is anything else we can do.”

“I think that the solution can be found in their education. Those children are never able to be educated and then they will grow up just like their fathers and chase the dreams of gold, women, and war.”

“Now just hold on Libby, the missionaries take care of their education. You don’t need to go start fixing something that isn’t broken.”

“But Daddo, it is broken! Here on our side of the village we have a good schooling and we are all able to travel to the capital to go to the university. None of those children are getting that type of education. They are being taught how to work, not how to think.”

“Why would teaching them to think be better for them than teaching them to work?”

Liberty could not come up with an answer right away. She decided that she would have to think about that further. Maybe, she would ask her teacher at school on Monday. Just then the sky began to get dark and they could hear off in the distance the rain coming. 

Fountainhead

Fountainhead is an organization that...well how about a video to explain.

Papa, Why Do You Care?

It’s November 15, 1969, I woke up this morning and made some coffee. I let the dog out and she brought me the paper. While reading the paper I am becoming more and more disgusted with the war. I have already been to some small town meetings in our local area, but they seem to me to be just of talk. I need to see more action in our cause to end the war. I thought by electing Nixon that this would end, but it has been 10 months and nothing has changed. My faith in elections has died. I no longer believe that electing an individual will change anything. If it did it would be illegal.

I heard some rustling in the hall and I looked over and there was my son with his hair all messy and rubbing his eyes. I had him sit down at the kitchen table. I got him some orange juice and cereal, and then went back to reading the paper.  I started reading an article about some of the protest in the last week. They have seemed to be escalating. Today we are going to Washington to protest. It is suppose to be the largest anti-war protest in the United States. The paper seems to only be talking about the violence and radicalism of the protest. They don’t even focus on was we are crying out for. It seems that they are only worried about the cries and the fist, but not the words. They are focused on the problem, not the solution. There was a time where the media spoke out for the people, but now they are all bought by politicians to say what they are suppose to say then end of story.

I slammed the paper down on the table and startled my son.

He looked up at me and asked, “Papa, why do you care? Why do you care what they make other people do? They are not making you or me or mama do it.”

I looked at my son across the table. I saw some curious eyes and decided that there was no better time to tell him this story.

“Son let me tell you a story. It was 25 years ago in Germany. There was a man who had made his living working as a construction man. He owed his own company. He was honest and hard working. One day a solider came to his door and asked him to dig some trenches with his equipment. The solider wanted unusual size trench, it sounded like a large pool instead of a trench.  The solider to the construction worker that he was further the cause of Germany by helping them build these trenches.

Two weeks after he had dug these trenches, the construction worker was woken up in the middle of the night. There were three soldiers banging on his door. They told him to get dressed and bring his bull dozer. He will need to fill in those trenches now. He got dressed and started his bull dozer. He drove out to the site and when he got out there he got out to see why they needed them filled in so urgently.

In the trench there were men, woman, and children. Some were dead, but it appeared most were dying and those that were not dying were clinging to those that were. It appeared that the soldiers had gathered these defenseless people placed them in the trench and fired their machine guns that the people. The construction worker was sick to his stomach; he could not believe what his trenches were being used for.

A solider came out with a gun drawn and pointed it at the construction worker. He told the man to get in the bull dozer and fill in the hole. The construction worker cried out that there living people in there and he could not kill a person let a long women and children. The solider told him he had two choices. First he could get the bull dozer and serve his country or the soldier would shoot him and get someone else to do it. Either way those people were going to be buried alive tonight.”

I paused to look at my sons face. It was shocked. He had heard some awful things about the War, but not something so personal. He asked me to finish. He wanted to know what the man did, but instead of finishing I asked him what he would do. His answer blew me away.

“Papa, I like living. I like playing baseball and going for walks with you and mama. You know? I mean those people were going to die anyways, does it really matter who does it?”

There was a long pause then he looked up at me and said, “But I don’t think I could do it.”

“Why?” I asked.

“Because I could not live with myself knowing that I had killed innocent people. I would rather die than live with that.”

Then I told him that that is why I care.

And that is why his grandpa cared. 

Top Story: Principle on the Run

                In the town of Greensville, there was a principal that ran away from the local authorities. He is wanted for sexual assault and stealing. This man has been the principal in Greensville high school for 20 years. Many people in the community were completely shocked to find that this man was capable of these actions. Some are denying that it is even possible and that it must be a mistake. But do you? Let’s be honest you are not that shocked. You have come accustomed to hearing these horror stories. Teacher raped students, students bullied kid to suicide, student shoots 20 children; have become a normal in America’s media empire. So the question begs: Why is this happening? How did we get like this? Has it always been this way? Can we fix it?  

                I do not like to use the word society, because it shifts blame from individuals to an arbitrary group of people.  So I am going to say individuals and dare I say educators, have desensitized our sense of morality. We have become a people that no longer stand by our principles. The only principle that we have been taught is that there is no absolute truth, because everything is relative. It has become immoral to be moral. The world extremist is a negative word in our culture, but what does it really mean? Consistent. An extremist is someone who will not compromise his principles. He stands by them no matter what the pressure of the masses are and it does not matter how much money is thrown at him. He is someone that will not back down and will do anything to change the course of evil.

                 Compromise is looked at as the ultimate principle. We become upset with congress when they do not pass laws, but what we fail to understand is that when they start comprising they start creating thousands of new laws. For example, the Affordable Health Care Act has over 20,000 pages of new regulation. There was no compromise here. One group got what they wanted and the other group signed off on it. (To clarify, I am using this piece of law as an example of compromise not of a moral or immoral piece of legislation.) It would be better for the men and women of congress to stand for by their principles and vote on issues the way they said that they would vote to the people that elected them…

                Whoa, almost got off track there. Let us start calling a compromise what it is: a person who as a value and gives up part of that value for someone else. It is not selling your soul to the devil, it is selling parts of your soul. Which if we are going to define that in a white and black (absolute morals), we would consider that? But you are still not convinced of black and white, so let me explain in gray scale (moral relativity). As one starts to compromise his or her principle where on the scale do they start to go? They start becoming darker? Why? Because under your own subconscious you are really referring to a black and white scale and you are adding more black to their morality.

                If we dig a little deeper as to why we cling to the gray scale, then we would find that we believe in grayness, because we do not think that we can be wholly good or wholly evil, therefore we must be both. So the truth is that people do not want to put the effort to be good and condemn those that try to be wholly good or evil. One might also say that it is impossible to be good to which I would say, if your law is so complex that it does not allow people to be good then the law itself is evil. Our law must be good and therefore allow us to be good. Remember this does not mean compromise this means that a good law does not have contradictions.

                In conclusion, we the people need to stop our run away from principles and turn around and start walking. I say walking because this is going to be something that needs to be closely examined. We do not need to be making rash decisions. We must think! We must use the mind that we were given to process what is truth and what are lies, what is good and what is evil. If we do not stand for something than we will die for nothing. I would like to leave you with a quote from my favorite author (Terry Goodkind) and book (Faith of the Fallen): “The first law of reason is that what exists, exists; what is, is, and that from this ineducible, bedrock principle, all knowledge is built...that is the foundation from which life is embraced... thinking is a choice...wishes and whims are not facts, nor are they a means to discover them... reason is our only way of grasping reality--it's our basic tool of survival. We are free to evade the effort of thinking--to reject reason--but we are not free to avoid the penalty of the abyss we refuse to see... Reason is the very substance of truth itself. The glory that is life is wholly embraced through reason. In rejecting reason one embraces death.” 

Welcome to The Roots of Liberty

I once read that knowledge is a weapon and I intend to be formidably armed. That has been my philosophy through my years. I acknowledge that I do not know the whole truth, but I have found edges and am starting to put the picture together. This blog will be used to document my journey through piecing together my picture of truth. As for the name “The Roots of Liberty”, I have found that as a basis of truth that liberty is the most valuable virtue. An individual has to see himself as free to actually be free. Knowledge is what allows a man to set himself free. A wise carpenter once said that the truth will set you free. People have to rise up and take control of their own freedom. It cannot be granted to you by society or culture or government. When this happens then the culture will become a culture of freedom. That is the only way. We cannot force people to be free; they must choose it.

I have seen many people in our age question everything. Questioning is neither good nor evil, it is the intent behind the questioning that is good or evil. If a person questions just because he does not believe in morality, truth, or reality then this is evil. If a person is questioning because they would like to learn the truth then this is good. One can see the difference in the questions if they are to seek answers based on previous conclusions of truth. When we question an idea then we should base it on what we already know as truth. If we do not know what the basic truth is for that question then we must go to the root of the issue and examine it closely.

That is the purpose of The Roots of Liberty to help me find what the basis of the truths are and then to venture out to the more complex issues of our day. To find the classically, timeless principles and then apply them to our age, culture, and lives. This journey will take me through politics, economy, business, ethics, and religion. Oh and many many lists. I sometimes find that people are turned off by these subjects because they are hot topics for arguments. There might be some random rants, because I am human and get angry and must vent somewhere, but for the most part I plan to keep these posts quite simple and easy to read. I might add in a tinge of humor because roots are created by a tree and a tree has a trunk and on that trunk is a heart with two lover’s initials. If we go further up that tree we see large branches. Among those branches are a tree house and in there are boys sitting around talking about….Welcome to The Roots of Liberty.