“Life is senseless. There’s no meaning. It all comes to nothing anyway, so why not. Yeah! I lost that desire to create something new, and I turned to drowning my sorrows.
And then one day at home watching a ball game while having a few beers and snacks, I looked up and saw the picture hanging on the wall. Back to the ball game and another gulp of beer, I looked at it again. I liked the beautiful oak frame, while Angelia loved the picture. She proudly hung it above the entertainment center, where we couldn’t neglect seeing it every day, as we relaxed watching a movie.
Back and forth, my eyes drifted between the picture and the game. Over and over again. The picture slowly became my focus.
My soul was seeing it as if for the first time. It, that artistic painting for some strange reason, yet now not strange, appeared alive to me. I saw the blood pouring out of his sides, his arms, shoulders, feet, and wrists, the blood dropping to the ground. The blood coming out of those thorns around his forehead, dripping down his cheeks and jaw, mingling with the flow from the other side, gathering on his neck and down to his chest. I saw the lifeless eyes, eyebrows sticking out, and his head hanging low to one side as he is suspended from that wooden cross.
Inside each drop of blood, I began to see videos exploding within each droplet of the wrongs I had committed throughout my life. What I had done to a girl while in the third grade, what I had called schoolmates, my secret transgressions, the lies I told, the items I pocketed without paying, and thousands more including actions I would never have considered as having crossed the line. Still, motion pictures and movies of all my wrongdoings coming alive out of each drop of blood, and then disappearing back into the drops.
I fell to my knees and sobbed. I felt ashamed. I wept. I cried out.
All those wrongs were now wiped away, and I was forgiven. I was healed. I was starting over. A new person. I wept again, this time with joy running over.
Life had meaning again, and I have not felt sorry for myself since His light penetrated my darkness.”
Copied from the book “Log Cabin Escape.”
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Author: Arnold R. Kropp
About Mr. Arnold.
Back in the days when I was a kid growing up in south Chicago, freely roaming around the neighborhood was common, and just a part of life in the late '40s and early '50s. A train track was less than a mile away and a favorite place to walk along the rails. A large city park was a bit closer with areas of dense trees and areas of open grassy picnic grounds. A public golf course was just two blocks away, but the famed 4-lane busy Western avenue had to be crossed to get to it, and we crossed in the middle of the block running between the cars and trucks. We knew the risks. In the winters, we would climb that fence making our way to one of the ponds, we’d push and shovel away the snow and play a spontaneous game of hockey, or bring a sled and slide down the hillside ; no adults, no special padding, just a group of kids enjoying the contest.
Dad was at work. Mom was home tending to the laundry and preparing the family meal for promptly at 6 pm. Life was good. It was fun. Sunday mornings were dress up in suit and tie, polished shoes for Sunday school and the worship service, then to a restaurant.
Arnold went on to college immediately after high school, but could not find a subject, a major that was really up his alley, so he enlisted in the Army and served in Germany during the years the Berlin wall was built. Seeing what effects Soviet communism had on the people of East Germany left an impression on him. During those years, he would write many long letters home starting a desire to write more than just letters. Many years later Arnold developed a blog where he posted hundreds of articles on the political side of American life. Some of those are available in the collection named "Ramblings".
Today, Society is totally different from that of the '50s, a whole lot different.
Today, it has become scary to let the kids roam. Today it has become organized to the hilt with 2nd graders playing organized football. In my present relatively quiet neighborhood, I do see kids walking the streets, but there is a difference as the kids seem to be apprehensive and on guard or intently operating a telephone as they walk, not running after each other playing hide and seek.
Today, the above freedoms of the '50s are suspect and avoided as being dangerous activities. And that is sad. It's sad that today's kids do not have that freedom, and it may be having a direct effect on their development. Consider, one fact that is readily apparent today compared to yesterday; the preponderance of overweight and obese kids, even pre-school kids are heavier than we were, and this has to be affecting the rest of their daily lives. No doubt about it. But, I'd better hush, can't talk about those things.
Yes, in the '50s there were Semi-trucks, public transportation, murders, rape, robberies, house fires, sickness and diseases resulting in death, and yes, there were deadly vehicle accidents too. There was even poverty and homosexuals too. We went to public schools, and the high school was integrated. This was Chicago, but those events did not make the headlines, as news was only broadcast at 6pm and possibly 10pm nightcap. Days of the cold war kept us together as a nation. We saw the "Victory at Sea" war clips before the main feature at the theaters.
And now technology dominates life. A cell phone in every handy pocket posting selfies. A computer saving everything to one of those cumulous clouds. Room size TV’s broadcasting everything 24/7.
This is more information than I want.
Let me decide something.
I think. therefore, I am.
I was born a male, therefore I am.
I was born-again, therefore I am.
I have life within, therefore I am.
The news is not my guide.
The TV is not my Sheppard.
View all posts by Arnold R. Kropp
One Day at a Time 