With maybe the lone exception being an escape from murderous pain over which you have no control.
Otherwise, you don’t go anywhere quietly. You fight with every single ounce of energy that you can muster, and you are not out (or gone) until you have given your all.
This life is far too beautiful, and despite our inability to coalesce as a people, individually we can enjoy God’s creations.
Faith teaches us there is a need for man to justify and explain things better left untouched. In most religions, there is a hereafter and the experience is portrayed as a heavenly, nirvana-state of perfection, love, and peace.
I hope so.
If not for me, for Karen.
She truly is one of the Good Guys.
Not an evil bone in that girl’s body.
How she ever ended up with me, a person who always looked for the quick score, the Big Splash, the flashy action, is another piece of evidence in the proof of God.
I am so much nicer of a person now that I am an old buzzard.
I actually care about other people than my own family or myself.
One of the quietest nights I have ever experienced was close to 10,000 feet up in the Chiricahua Mountains, southeast of Tucson, Arizona. I went up with my German Shorthair Pointer Chopper and all I took with me was a case of beer, a quart of whiskey, a quarter-pound of Thai Stick, a 16-ounce Porterhouse, and my Buck knife.
Oh yeah, I also brought three hits of purple mescaline with me, and I wasn’t conducting any science experiments if you get my drift.
A real trailblazer.
On my own.
I remembered how weird it felt when I went walking through the trees which were thick and dark. It felt like I was being hugged by all the branches and all of a sudden I was laughing like a hyena. The leaves were tickling me and I heard a voice in the wilderness whisper “Don’t wake the baby.”
I went on what ended up being about an all-night quest in the darkness to find a baby.
But I thought, the baby is sleeping. How will I ever find it?
I started thinking that eating the three hits might have been a little too much, and I could not get the smile off my face.
In the dark.
I remember walking through the forest for some time (of course it was some time, I just don’t remember how much time), and I was smoking Thai Stick blunts like Cheech and Chong, who I saw performing their “Dave’s not here!” routine on a stage in the middle of the reservoir that I now found myself waist-high in the water.
I remember smiling more as I approached my truck parked in the middle of nowhere. I lay my sleeping bag out and folded my arms behind my head and looked up at the tapestry of stars blanketing the mountains.
If you had to go quietly into a night, this was the one.