RUDIMENTS, pt. 876
(interstellar travelers)
I may have mentioned all this
before, but it stands out to
me so vividly yet that I
write it again. One night,
it was bout 4am, and we'd
set out in my Volkswagen
Squareback, dark green,
wonderful car (bought for
800 bucks over the way
other side of Elmira, out
where the city withered
away and there were car
lots of dubious vintage),
making trip back to Jersey
and NYC (about 5 hours
off, comfortably). There
was a sudden, silent flash
across the sky, and it landed,
still in silence, in the far field
to our right, which would have
been, at that point, the low,
farm country southeastward
of Elmira. Now, yes, that
little part of the tale is both
plain and probably laughable
enough (to the non-believer),
but the cinch was, at about
the same time as whatever
this was landed, maybe a
half mile from us, in the
open field, the car lost ALL
power, shut down, no radio,
no lights, no engine. Deserted
roadway right then, just us.
Nothing else happening. We
were stunned (wife, and
sleeping 5-year old on the
rear seat). Not knowing what
to do nor what had happened,
I suppose we just gaped, at
something we could not see.
There was no further activity,
no materialization of a craft
or space vehicle, no smoldering
wreckage, no trace. It probably
tool, all told, 4 minutes, and
then everything went back to
normal - lights came back on,
radio again played, and the
car was, once again, running.
-
Amassing and recreating all this
later, we were quite sure to make
note of what had happened, and
the location and setting. We
continued on our way (long trip
ahead of us), and, days later, upon
return, and after, we checked out
the area, as we could, walking
the brush, some - though it
wasn't really that accessible and
the only real, good, vantage was
from that highway-view angle,
beyond the ranch type fence.
We never got to the bottom of
it, and eventually just let it go.
Since that time (this would have
been 1974, perhaps earliest Spring.
The remainder of my life since
those days, filled with many
other things, has always kept
this strange occurrence within its
background material. The reason
for that is that, frankly, I fully
believed in what I'd witnessed
and because, as well, it fit in
with all the concepts of life that
I'd by then accepted. It was a
reinforcement of my psychic
beliefs, and I was not about to
turn them away because of a
lack of ground marks, burn
marks or tunneled and smashed
up areas. Sometimes life is just
greater than all that.
-
So if I say my life is an echo, I
hope you'll understand that. It's
as if I've always been reacting to
things instead of determining them.
Perhaps it's like that for everyone,
but I don't think so. All of my
sidetracks have been deep and
bizarre ones. Weirdness had
always, just maybe, been in the
wind for me. My first recollections
of things were unsettled to begin
with, and then proceeding out from
the train wreck, everything was
fused anew. It was as if I was that
guy, 'Beutyl' - he used to have
a welding shop at the rear of his
house (still standing) as you enter
Clark. He was an old, hunch-back
guy, back in the 1960's, and his
welding skill was such that no matter
what you brought him - things
which ranged from broken bicycle
frames, bad welds, swing sets that
had come apart, old parts, household
things - he was most always able
to get it back to snuff, in 1960's
prices too, and willingly. Three
bucks was tops probably. His odd
situation of hunch, limp, and what
seemed liked a struggling 'frame'
actually held within a cool, gentle,
old guy. That's what I myself often
felt like, about myself - give me
any old broken junk of idea, I'll
make it work, and it will avoid
me all of the grief of interpersonal
dealings, bonhomie, and small talk.
I've seen fire come from the sky.
-
I was doing some reading the other
day and realized something I'd
forgotten. West Point. Up along
the Hudson, West Point is still
in place, yes, but in thinking of
it I realized how cool a factor it
was that both Jefferson Davis,
and Robert E. Lee had come
out of there. As did Brigadier
General Gustave Tourant
Beauregard. In fact, Robert E.
Lee had been its Superintendent,
as also had Beauregard (for five
days), and later bombarded
Fort Sumter, to begin the war,
and he also won at Bull Run.
and he also won at Bull Run.
It's all probably meaningless
in the long run of things, but
I always took it as a cool marker.
I've visited West Point a few times;
the first time was the worst. It
was right after one of those
horrible terrorist bombing deals,
the whole western world is on alert,
and here I come slow-driving to
the guardhouse at West Point,
looking like your average Arab
terrorist and driving a large,
white van. They were all over
me in ten seconds. Step out of the
van, present your credentials, etc.
They searched the van from top to
bottom too, but let me back in,
and allowed entry. It's a cool place,
especially up at the far end where
there's a broad expanse and a vista
out over the Hudson, where they'd
come up with that 'Seven Chains'
fortification thing in the Revolutionary
War to keep the British flotilla out
of the upriver. There are cannons and
big armaments and story boards for
each. It seems there's always been,
early on anyway, an old West Point
tradition of capturing and displaying
here, a large cannon or some gun
emplacement from each city or
large place that the US Army has
'conquered' or taken, or whatever
they call it; I forget now. So, these
guns are arrayed everywhere there,
looking out over the Hudson. It's an
oddly peaceful scene, actually.
How that could be always baffles
me. It's a lot like that field onto
which an uncontrolled blast of
light came down from the sky,
shut everything down, and then
left not a trace, and turned it all
back on. Weird.
No comments:
Post a Comment