Lost Faith

As he limped off the last step of the bus he nearly stumbled. The man caught himself with his cane and swore, more at the cane than anything else. The bus driver looked down, seemingly concerned. Although it was bitterly cold, there was very little snow on the ground this day, rather unusual for an Ohio winter.

 

“Sir, are you alright?” 

 

“I’m fucking fine. I don’t like this god damn cane or people asking stupid fucking questions.”

 

The bus driver’s expression changed from one of compassion to that look you give every cranky old guy. The driver closed the door and pulled away without another word. The bus sent a frigid winter gush blasting at the old man, causing him to shiver violently. His weight buckled at his arthritic knees and he slipped loose of his cane, falling into the cold pavement.

 

Staring at the concrete, he laughed. “You wouldn’t think anyone would be so broken at 45.” He rolled over onto his back and slowly lifted himself back onto the cane. After dusting himself off, he started down the road.

 

“Never any time to be broken. I’ve still got a bit to go before I can see her again,” he said to no one in particular. These past 15 years he had gotten used to talking to himself more than ever. Sure, there were brief interludes of accompaniment, but having been alone so long he had to talk to someone. Once he started looking his age, and then surpassed the look, people no longer bothered to glare at him strangely when he reenacted the manic conversions in his head verbally. Now, they just avoided and ignored him. Which worked just fine for him. It had allowed him to get away with so much more. Honestly, that’s what his whole life had been about, seeing what he could get away with. Walking out of the center three days ago to return to Madison, his hometown, was just another example of this pattern.

 

As he walked slowly down the street he fished the ID badge from the center out of his pocket and read it to himself. “Michael Smith, age 45, no ID, issued January 12, 2028. Hmm, Mike... yeah, if I’m back ‘home’ it’s probably better that I start calling myself Ryan again. I remember how much it used to piss me off when people didn’t call me that, but I just abandoned that name, like so much here.”

 

Ryan let out a long, obviously animated sigh, hoping he might breathe some warmth back into himself. It didn’t work, and the cold penetrated  more. He sped up as much as he could, hoping that might keep him warm. As he walked he swung him arm, but slowed when caught sight of his scars poking out of his sleeves. He paused for a minute and unrolled his sleeves, unveiling lines of varying lengths permanently embedded in both his forearms. Every line stopped just short of his wrist. The cold breeze blowing made each line sting. He dropped his arms, and left them exposed as he continued walking.

 

“All the damn times I cut myself in some vain attempt to get out of my head I never had the balls to just raise the knife a few more inches and finish the job. I couldn’t kill myself, so I just removed myself from my life. I left, with one useless gesture, scrawled in spray paint on my door. Nothing, but the message, ‘I am gone’ told people what happened to me.”

 

Ryan’s imaginary conversation was cut short when he reached the edge of a long sloping field. “She should be here somewhere.” After searching for several minutes through tall grass he finally found who he was looking for.

 

“Hey, long time...” He paused for a minute to seat himself slowly in the grass. Ryan did not wait for a response from her. He never did. “Look, there are some things I need to say. I realize this might be too late, but I have to tell someone what happened to me.”

 

“The simple answer is, I just left. I abandoned everyone I ever knew. I got in my car and started driving. I truly did not want to live anymore, but some nagging survival mentality kept me from ever ending it myself. I even maxed out the cash limit on all my credit cards before I left so I could atleast eat. On one hand I was expecting to die and one the other I was making plans to stay alive.” 

“I guess I figured somewhere out on the road, somewhere else, I might find my life, or a better death. Either way, I wanted Ryan to not exist anymore. I’d let the scavengers I knew pick apart what was left of him here until there was no trace. There was only one thing I left behind that really mattered, one thing that kept me feeling subhuman all these years: my son. I wish I could say I had some grand reason why I left him, but I can’t. I really had no good reason. It was an act of pure selfishness. So many of the fathers who abandon their children try to justify it in some manner: the kid will be better off without me, etc., blah fucking blah. I actively fought to not to justify myself. There was no justification to be had. And I thought about that choice all the time, but never went back. Truthfully, I did forget about it from time to time, but I always carried it. When my car finally broke down in Texas, I even sent the rest of the money back to Erin, thinking this was the end. Instead, I went to a soup kitchen, filled my belly, and started walking. Maybe the money was some way of alleviating my guilt. It didn’t really work. But, then again, maybe it was just another selfish act, trying to jettison the last of Ryan from me. It’s not like I really wanted to start over, just have a good ending.”

 

“You know, of all the people I left behind, the three I cared about the most I never checked in on. I guess I felt if I did I would be drawn back and I just wanted that life to be gone. I always wondered though. Did Aaron ever write his book? Did it ever get published? Dante would almost be 18 now. I wonder what kind of man he grew into. Xander would be driving now too I guess. It hurts me so much not to know what happened to him, as much as it probably hurt him to never know me. What about Erin? I wonder if she ever found that love she was looking for.  Like she always said, it wasn’t going to be me. And as much as I fought her on that, she was right. That constant rejection definitely played a part in my leaving, but it wasn’t just her rejection. I felt rejected by the whole world, like I was never supposed to be part of it. I wonder if the cruel things I said about her being alone the rest of her life came to pass. I suppose I could try to find them now, but what would be the point. I died a long time ago.”

 

“The whole 15 years has just been one giant selfish act and it hasn’t really proven very effective. I was trying to kill one person and raise another. If I couldn’t even raise my son what made me think I could raise myself? You know for a while I really tried to be that person. I started calling myself Mike, but had no way of proving to anyone who I really was. I just wandered from place to place, heading closer and closer to California. I’m not sure why I chose that direction, but it just seemed the only way I could go until I reached something I could not walk over anymore. I didn’t really get that far from Texas anyways. Somewhere in New Mexico I hit a stretch of nothing, no soup kitchens or homeless shelters for me survive in. Half the time I ate from junk food I stole out of truck stops. I wound up with $5 in my pocket from collecting cans on the highway in some small town. I wandered into a diner, tried to clean myself in their restroom, and sat down in a booth.  I ordered coffee, but fell asleep in the booth before it came. The waitress let me sleep four hours before I woke up. It was first act of compassion a person with no other vested interest or religious doctrine telling them they had to that anyone did for me on this whole suicide mission.”

 

“When I finally awoke, the waitress only said one thing.”

 

“Long night”

 

“I don’t think I’ve ever had a short night.”

 

“She wound up buying me dinner that night and we talked until the place closed. I went home with her that night. That one night stand wound up lasting for quite a while. I guess it was her name that really intrigued me at first: Sarah. You know I was never much of a religious man, but it just seemed like a sign. Sarah, the name of the first girl I ever had a crush on, and the potential name for my first daughter. I wound up working in the restaurant, cooking and waiting on people. Since she owned the place, she never really asked for ID or took taxes. As far as she was concerned, who I was the night she met me was who I was to her. We were together five years before she got pregnant. All of it seemed to be falling into place.”

 

“I got comfortable and complacent. That has always been my downfall. About a month into the third trimester she started getting violently ill. We rushed her to the hospital, but it was nearly an hour away. By the time we got there it was too late. Our daughter, “Faith” only lived for 10 minutes. Every sign, everything I had worked for to create a new person; me, this little girl, every horrible part of Ryan and the life he created there, and his son all came crashing down on me. I was not meant to be happy or loved. I had left one child, and I felt as though I was being punished for attempting to create another.”

 

“That was the second time I lost faith. And I just couldn’t handle it. I left Sarah before she even got out of the hospital. I stole a different car that night so she’d have a way to leave the hospital.”

 

The wind suddenly picked up as Ryan sat there. A single tear streamed down his face and was promptly wiped away. He stood up and paced back and forth, slowly, his cane making a clink as it hit ice.

 

“It wasn’t this cold ever in California. I guess, logically, that’s why stayed there so long. I could live on the streets and not die, but it wasn’t for lack of trying. I just could not get out of my head. Mike and Ryan kept going round and round with each other. Honestly, looking back, I was probably having a mental breakdown. But, instead I took to drinking. Most of my food came from shelters, so what little I scrounged in change and cans I bought liquor with. But it was never enough to make me forget. Ryan still had some voice in my head that was terrified of surrendering complete control of his body to drugs, so Mike never really tried anything harder. Ryan, however, didn’t seem to draw the same line at booze, so Mike assumed he just needed more. So if he couldn’t buy it, he stole it. The liquor stores in California have Fort Knox type security, and a homeless guy kinda sticks out in them, so I stole my liquor from homeless people.”

 

“That was an even worse idea. I got away with it a few times, but as usual, got cocky, and messed with the wrong guy. Spending time in jail for robbing a liquor store probably would have been better than the months I spent in the hospital eating from tube or the years in rehab. Half my teeth are fake now, and I still can’t close my jaw correctly. As you can see my knees are bad and this cold air is doing hell on my punctured lung.”

 

“The one thing the hospital did do, was give me time to think. It’s not like I had some immediate turn around, but I was able to check in on the people I had left behind. The rehab center had internet and you’d be surprised how much information is free to the public, or how many people do not put privacy settings on their Facebook pages. I could never bring myself to lookup Erin, Xander, Dante, or Aaron, nor Sarah. I don’t even know if Sarah survived after the baby died. But, I did look into my family. Shawn had a number more arrests for meth and alcohol and Jen divorced him in 2020. Dad died in 2016, but the details were not given. I assume it was pill related. It was for so long. Mom was arrested a few years after Dad died and died in prison, apparently of a heart attack. Roger died of a diabetically weakened heart in his early 40s. I realize this is shitty, but all of those people struggled so much in their lives, made so many poor choices, and had so much pain to deal with, that I kinda envy the peace they get now. I’m jealous that they got an out, an ending.”

 

            “I even looked into Ashtabula, which I realize you have no connection to nor do you know any of my friends from there. There was nothing, but time in that place, and since I’ve obviously monopolized this entire conversation, I guess I continue spewing words at you. Alot of Ashtabula was razed in several fires between 2017 and 2020, which I guess is probably an improvement. One of them was started by Dean’s brother, Dale, and probably for the same reason as many of them. Dale was cooking meth in the basement and it, of course, exploded. The whole house burned down, killing Dean and his whole family. It’s a shame he never left home for more than a year, or he might have not been there when the house went up.”

 

“Josh was smart enough to move out of Ashtabula to a bigger city that better understood his brand of hipster. He self-published a few poetry books, but then went to Europe and as far as I know no one has heard from him since.”

 

            Ryan stopped pacing and shuffled awkwardly with his pocket. He pulled a small pistol from his pocket and sat it on the ground. He then sat down next to it.

 

            “And then there’s you. You were the last one I looked up. I’m not sure what took me so long to be curious about what happened to you. I guess I just sorta worked my way backwards through Ryan’s life, tiptoeing around anything too difficult until I came to something that seemed to be the beginning. Really, I guess this all began with my parents, but this whole rejection thing started, most definitely with you. I’m not trying to blame you for anything. I’m years past giving a shit about blame for anyone. Actually, I’m here to apologize. I found Tom’s and your mother’s obituaries first, and then I started to read the other articles related to you. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there that night. If I had known. There was still enough of Ryan left in me to care. I would have come back. I would have tried to protect you. I didn’t know you’d be raped that night. I don’t care what happened between us. I needed to be there that night. There are so many nights I needed to be there.”

 

The tears started again. This time Ryan made no attempt to wipe them away. They came so quickly, that there would have been no way to stop them if he tried.

Sobbing now, “There are so many people I left, I lost. So much I have missed pretending I was someone else. I was Mike, but I’ve always been Ryan, and I ran away from that so long that there’s no one left who remembers his name. I spent my whole life trying to believe in something, in myself if I could find anything better. But even I proved unworthy, and I just stopped believing. I was so obsessed for so long with creating something people would remember me by, and I just wiped it all away, threw myself and all of you away. I’m so sorry.”

 

Ryan began choking on his tears. He could no longer speak. The words were gone, much like he was so long ago. All that was heard for minutes was the sounds of an old man full of regret for the first time in his selfish life. After a while the crying ceased and he just stared ahead. Nothing, but silence existed, because for once in his damn life, Ryan has shut the hell up. He just listened to nothing. He removed his glasses and let them drop to the ground.

 

He reached forward and began brushing the years of neglect from the stone he had been talking to, revealing the inscription, “Our beloved rose in bloom.”  

 

He turned to walk away, but paused and took one final look at the tombstone.

 

“I’ll see you again.”

“Take care, Lisa. Don’t be a stranger.”      

 

Faith

As I limped in from the cold, I nearly stumbled as I tripped over the same ledge I have for the past ten years. Angie’s Diner on Main had been our usual meeting place for nearly a decade, but my friend’s latest drama had kept us from meeting for nearly six months.

 

Despite the “Please wait to be seated” sign I strolled to my usual booth overlooking the busy street outside. She might not have been to our meetup in a while, but I still frequented this restaurant at least three times a week. I had been here so much that this table and floor had been autographed mine with paint stains transferred from my clothes and shoes. As soon as I slouched into my seat, Angela, the sole proprietor, cook, and apparently, the only waitress on duty, looked up from her grill and gave me a quizative look.

 

“Where the hell is your cane, Ryan?”

 

Without letting her finish I blurted out, “Damn thing slowed me down. Besides, I told you I’d give that fucking tripping hazard the hammer years ago. Problem solved.”

 

Angela rolled her eyes. “The usual; ridiculous quantities of coffee?”

 

“Keep it coming. I want to taste colors before I’m done here. Tonight promises to be a long night.”

 

“Have you even ever had a short night?”

 

“If I did, you might want to check if I was still breathing. While we’re on the subject that we’re not, tell that husband of yours when he get back from Tokyo, that I need those prints from the shoot...YESTERDAY. City Hall is on my ass to prove I spent their money on community art and not another of my frivolities.”

 

“As I told you six times this week, he gets in tomorrow night. I will tell him again and he will be sure to promptly ignore you.”

 

“Speaking of ignore, uhh... coffee?”

 

Angela might’ve taken this for rude, if she wasn’t already used to my caffeine addiction, and quickly filled my cup. At that moment the phone rang, and she, more than obviously relieved, left to escape another of my black hole conversations.  

My attention quickly shifted from my steaming life elixir to the patrons standing around. My friend was as usual, predictably late. I looked up at the smart menu board, my eyes wandering past the ads to the clock; 7:17 PM. Yup. 17 minutes late. Is this even the right day? It would not be the first time I showed up here on the wrong day for a meeting. This is what happens when habit meet age. The board read, “Sunday, January 12, 2028.” Nope. This is the right day.

 

Suspecting disappointment, I turned around to look at the smoker’s pit outside. I frowned as I caught sight of her with a cigarette in her mouth. At least this time it was only tobacco. Ever since Ohio became the 26^th state to legalize marijuana, I still could not get used to people baking in public. Never liked it, never will. The decision made the majority of states weed friendly, forcing the Supreme Court to finally overturn the Federal illegalization. Ohio became the champion of pot heads everywhere. Roger would have been so proud.

 

I got up from my seat, doing my best to not draw attention to my limp and tapped on the window. Her head shot around.

“What the hell are you doing? C’mon.”

I did not wait for a response and went back to my booth.

 

She snuffed out her butt and opened the back door, bringing a bitter chill with her.

“Trading one addiction for another,” I said to her, “You smell like poison.”

 

“Shut up, old man. As weak as they make this shit nowadays, the air is more toxic.”

 

“Tell that to my punctured lung. And 45 is not old, anymore. You’re nearly the same age as me, ya bitch.”

 

“Where the fuck is your cane?”

 

“For the love of Christ, I keep telling people that I do not need it.”

 

She sat down and removed two separate coats. Years of alcoholism had left her unable to stay warm more than ever.

Without saying a word, and potentially getting trapped again, Angela quickly poured her a cup of coffee and left.

 

“Enough banter,” I said, “It’s good to see you on the outside, honey. How’d the program go this time?”

“Boring as hell, same as last time. At least I had your letters to read. Most people in there have burned so many bridges that their alone inside their heads the whole time. It’s no wonder so many relapse.”

 

“You write enough prison letters, you begin to understand how alone people trapped in their own problems really are?”

 

“I still can’t believe that Shawn fucking Kinney is my sponsor.”

 

“Better that than the alternative. We were all sure he was gonna drink himself into a coma after the divorce. But, hey, kids have a way of changing people. Who knew he’d grow up?”

 

“Yeah, he’s been telling me that the Cleveland Aquarium and his son have been keeping him running nonstop. He never even has the time to think about drinking.”

 

“Yeah, I think our parent’s deaths had a lot to do with that too. He fell heavier into meth after Dad’s pill overdose, but Mom’s death really woke him up.”

 

“This might be shitty to say, but at least John passed peacefully in his sleep, long before he ever had to touch a nursing home. But, your Mom, I could not think of a more Michelle Kinney way to go.”

 

“Yep,” I said, chuckling, “sipping Bacardi and Coke on a cruise ship and a heart attack on the dance floor. None of us knew Dad’s pension paid the remainder in full to his survivor. I think the peaceful way she went really made Shawn accept it so much better. Without Mom there to bail him out, and Jen’s pregnancy after the divorce, he realized there was no one to get him out of trouble anymore. He really put his shit together. Well, with the help of an ass kicking from his half-crippled brother.”

 

She laughed, as I began absently mindlessly playing with the larger of the two rings on the chain around my neck.

 

“That’s your mother’s ring, isn’t it?”

 

“Yeah, it’s the only thing I wanted of my mother’s. Shawn needed the rest to buy the house for the baby. I’ve been hanging onto it for when Xander proposes to a lucky woman.”

 

“How is the little, eh... big man these days?”

“He got his temps and has been generally terrifying his mother lately. She absolutely refuses to drive with him. He’s a little bit too much like me when it comes to driving. But, I’ve had him behind the wheel of that clunky ass truck since he was 14.”

 

“..You had him driving, at 14?”

 

“Relax; it was only in the high school’s empty parking lot. Besides, in all honesty, the kid’s probably a better driver than I ever was.”

 

“Let’s hope so,” she says, nodding at my leg.

 

“Hey, can’t walk away from every horrific accident. I got through three before one finally caught up with me. The fourth I had to crawl away from. Ehh, it was beautiful fire.”

 

“And she lets you teach him to drive?”

 

“I think she’s got a little bit of empty nester going on already. Watching her little boy drive away is the first step to him leaving the nest. Besides, what better warning to drive safely than looking over to see your car accident crippled father. Well, that and I didn’t tell her about the early driving lessons until his little sister blurted it out.”

 

“Sarah told on you two, Ha!”

 

“She thought Xander was gonna be her little chauffeur. Once she found out it would be two years till he got his license, she didn’t think she had any other reason to keep the secret. Two years is an eternity for a ten year old.”

 

“Did you try bribery?”

 

“All the candy in the world cannot keep that girl from tattling on us boys. Erin uses her as her own personal spy sometimes.”

 

“She puts up with a lot of your shit. How the hell did you ever get her to tolerate you, let alone marry someone with no religion?”

 

“Annoying persistence...maybe a few orgasms. Hey, it’s worked before.”

“Seriously, how does someone who has faith agree to spend her life, happily, with someone who doesn’t?”

“It’s all a matter of faith, like you said. She has faith in God and Christ, but just because I do not does not mean I do not have faith. I have faith in myself, in her, and our children. I attend church with her and the kids. I listen to the sermons. No, I do not always agree with them or even her. Sure, I do find it terribly subversive sometimes. But, I do believe in love. And those services are all about love. Sure, hers is a greater love, but I believe that my love for her and my family is my saving grace. If I cannot believe in omnipotent love, I can believe in hers. Every time they talk of a savior, I think of her. Whenever I hear redemption, I see my children. The name Kinney has been redeemed, and it is because of their love. The immeasurable love I get from her, is from her faith. It is a wonderfully inspiration environment, great for an artist, even if I disagree with most of the content”

 

“Jesus, I never had a chance, did I?

 

“Nope, not after I knew her love.”

 

“One thing has been bothering me for a while, though, about how we became friends again. How did you know about my mother’s funeral?”

 

“You have Erin to thank for that too. Her mother found the obituary in the paper and passed it on to Erin. Erin wrestled with telling me for about five minutes, because she knew exactly what I’d do. But, very quickly she realized it was something I was gonna have to do. I’m glad that she did”

 

“Her and I have never had a close relationship. I think she’s still pissed about how I hurt you. But, one of things I have to do for AA is apologize to anyone I’ve hurt. You’ve heard my sobbing apologies, but I feel like I hurt her too.”

 

“How?”

 

“The kiss...”

 

“Oh, that, she knew about that right away.”

 

“How much does she know?”

 

“Everything, I tell her everything. I made that mistake before with my stealing, so I made it a point to do this one right. I told her that when you saw me at the funeral, you broke down. After the service, you went out drinking. I followed, because I was really worried. I was able to babysit you for a while, but you disappeared later that night at the bar and I assumed you went home with someone. When the police called me the next day, Erin was right next to me.”

“The only reason they called you was because you were a suspect. Your number was the last one on my phone. I dialed it four times that night, but the guy I was with kept shutting it off.”

 

“If anyone should be sorry it should be me. I should’ve tried harder to find you. I didn’t know someone had slipped anything into your drink. I didn’t know you would be raped that night. I’m just glad they found you so quickly in that alley. Much longer and you could’ve frozen. I just thought that you suddenly remembered how much you hated me and left with the first convenient excuse.”

 

“You know, in a way, I’m kinda okay with how all that happened. I’m not happy, but now, I can see, it was what was needed. You came to the hospital, my only friend, the only one I would ever have, even after I hurt you so much. And I cried and cried and cried. I know I was grasping at straws when I kissed you, but you even let me down gently. If it wasn’t for that night I never would’ve realized where I was headed. I’m just sorry that I might’ve caused a rift with your wife.”

 

“She knew where your head was at. She never held it against you. The only reason she came the first few times we met was because she was worried that I would relapse into old feelings. But, she trusts me. And here we are. She doesn’t come because she wants you to be able to talk openly without fearing any repercussions from her. She wouldn’t have any, but she just wants you to be comfortable.

 

“You know, strangely, siting her in this booth is the only time I’ve felt normal in the past year.”

 

“It’s funny the way things work out sometimes. If I hadn’t been in that accident and unemployed for two years I never would’ve taken the time I needed to write the Ashtabula council. Who knew they were aching to revitalize this community so badly? They were trying anything to get people and money back into this city. I’m just glad mine worked.

Then, between the extra insurance Erin forced me to get, paying out; the Obamacare Reform Plan; and all the government programs they set up to prevent the 2020 Depression, we managed to stay afloat pretty well. Erin was finally able to go back to college, while both kids were in school. She makes one hell of a sexy librarian, even if most of the books are digital these days.”

 

“How are things at the Art Center?”

 

I pointed out the window, and looked across the street. “Well, it hasn’t burned down yet? We got another group of kids from Madison coming in tomorrow, then it’s the usual weekday program for Lakeside’s teenagers.”

“You get people coming from Madison, too? That’s not even Ashtabula County.”

 

“Yeah, but a lot of people know our sculpture at the park, so we get contacted constantly by Madison teachers. We’re getting people from a lot further too, especially our No-Holds Barred Poetry Readings. Every one of the writers I know are advertising us everywhere they go. Josh even stops in once a week to mix up fancy coffee and pretentious haikus. Thank God he got into a bigger city, where his pretension could reach for better things. You know, their publishing his sixth poetry book now?”

 

“Six books, how many fucking published writers do you guys have now?”

 

“Well, technically only two commercially published right now. Aaron just self-published the first book of his series, but I am fairly confident someone is gonna pick up the next one.”

 

“It took him fifteen years to self-publish?”

 

“He spent a lot of time just being a Dad. His writing kinda took a back burner, especially after he got married and have another kid. Dante took till he was ten to finally catch up verbally to the other kids, but by that point he was already so much smarter than them, that he skipped two grades. He’s turning 18 this year, and is gonna be only the second kid to graduate post-secondary college and high school in the same year. He’s gonna start graduate school next year.

 

“What’s he studying?”

 

“That’s the ironic part. He wants to be a linguist and a translator. He already grew up knowing ASL, and by the time he was a teenager, he had already mastered most of his Dad’s Japanese books. I think he knows something like five languages now.”

 

“God, I hated college. I studied and studied and still could not remember anything. Then, even after getting my degree, it took me another four years to get my license. I was well-taken care of financially, otherwise, but after he died and I drank through a half million dollars, I had to get a real job. I barely managed to get my license and pissed that away on booze too.”

 

“Hey, you’re not the only one of us who thought they had everything figured out and had to lose it all. Dean’s idiot brother blew their fucking house up with a meth lab. The accident killed his brother and his mother. His Dad wound up hurt and starting taking Oxys like they were candy. Add some liquor to that and poof; they’re living in a homeless shelter. Dean wasn’t innocent in that either. He knew his brother was cooking drugs in the house, but turned a blind eye for a few dollars here and there. His father and other two brothers had no fucking clue. They thought they knew all about Dale, until BOOM. The family is broken, their house and lives are shattered, and Dean let it all happen. Dean was more than happy to drink with his Dad, the two of them justifying their addictions. That was, until Dean got mouthy one particularly plastered night and told his Dad that he had known Dale was mixing meth the whole time. His Dad beat him within an inch of his life and threw him out of their Section 8 apartment. Dean wound up being picked up by the police trying to shoplift a bottle of whiskey. It turned his whole life around. He spent a year in halfway house, went back to school, and wrote his book. It became a best seller within a few months. Someone is even trying to get a movie made of it, but Dean refuses unless he’s able to direct it himself.

I’m sure he’d be pissed to hear this, but he had to be free of his matriarch and every assumption he ever had before he could grow. He still lives in Ashtabula. He sorta feels that he owes this city something for all the harm he caused. He’s not suffering that much though. Dean has a huge home in a nice development in the Harbor... with a maid.”

 

“I didn’t think I’d ever hear the words ‘nice development’ and ‘Ashtabula’ in the same sentence.”

 

“Once the Art Center put out a few big public pieces, the hipsters all decided this was the cool new place to remake in their image halfway between Erie and Cleveland. Hipsters have money; undeserved money; but money nonetheless.”

 

Angela walks up to the table and places a Paypad face down between us.

 

“Speaking of money, you got this?”

 

“Don’t I always?” I sighed.

 

“I hate to cut this conversation short, because honestly this is the only human connection I have that doesn’t have the shakes, but I am really feigning for a cigarette right now. If I do not keep my hands busy, then I keep trying to put a drink in it. It’s like second nature, now.”

 

“Fair enough, the kids are waiting for me anyways.”

 

“Same time next week, Ryan. I promise it won’t be six months this time.”

 

“Yep, same bat channel...

Take care, Lisa. Don’t be a stranger.”

 

 

EPILOGUE

This story is one of millions of possibilities for the future. I wrote a lot of tragedies for the people I know, because often it takes something tragic for us to finally find our faith in ourselves. We often have to break every part of ourselves before we can find what was underneath it all. Sometimes, you can never truly know yourself until it is the only thing you have left. Maybe, we have to face a tragic future before we can believe in ourselves, believe that we have choices in our own potential. Or maybe, we can find the faith in ourselves before we ever have to face these tragedies.

The Anti-Life Equation

The Anti-Life Equation

Philosophy 11001-Introdution to Philosophy

Dr. John Hammond

	January 24, 2010

 

1. The term “Anti Life Equation” originates in Jack Kirby’s Fourth World comics published by DC Comics. It is only the name that is used here and no other references in this paper to the DC Comics version exist therein.

My purpose here is to relate the philosophical components of life and death. Like many great philosophers I will use the principals of logical mathematics. The value in this equation is in the relation between its elements. No actual assignable values are capable, as each piece is highly subjective.

                We shall start with a simple relationship between death, which I shall denote as D, and life, which I will denote as L.

Death varies directly to life. If life goes up, then there is more death, i.e. more things to die. In keeping with established mathematical concepts, a direct variation calls for a constant. The question is: What remains constant no matter the amount of life or death? The answer is time, which we will symbolize with t.

Here, time may not be considered a true constant in that it is represented by a variable. However, time is unaffected by life or death. Theoretically, we could denote a moment in time and although incomprehensible to calculate, could possibly put in the amount of life or death at the moment. As more time passes, life or death changes. However, no amount of life or death can change time.

                If death varies directly to life, is there anything that varies inversely? What I ask is, “What makes death decrease as life increases?” There is something, which I will call truth (T).

For simplicity’s sake, truth means a truly believed form of understanding. For example, the advance of medical knowledge can increase overall understanding or truth. With increased truth, there would be less death, and life would increase and extend. A deeper explanation of truth is discussed later.

                Let’s change this formula from variation notation to equation notation.

Now that this is an equation, we must define its domain and range. What are the limits of the variables presented? The whole formula cannot exist outside the bounds of subjective human understanding. No function is possible here beyond what humans are capable of perceiving. What is more is that each factor is subjective to each individual. What I define as truth and life are very different from what another does. Even time is subjective, but this applies to the human race as a whole. Our whole concept of the passage of time is only perceived by changes received by our sense data.

                Having declared our bounds, let’s work within our means. Death itself cannot be broken into any further factors. Based on a lack of conclusive evidence on either side of the argument for an afterlife, we must “suspend belief” until further evidence presents itself. Our current subjective human understanding will not allow it.

                Time can only be broken into endless other segments of time. This would complicate the formula needlessly and result in an endless loop. Truth can be broken up, but we must first define some factors of life. Could anyone define any aspect of their truth without their life? If that person did not exist on our plane of perception, they would have no way to define their truth to us. The whole function fails beyond our perceptions.

                So, our next logical step is to ask, “What makes up life?” For the values of life, we shall focus on an individual, which is 1L. That being said, L can be represented as…

That looks rather complicated, but why shouldn’t it? Most would agree that life is a rather complicated thing. I will explain what each variable stands for. However, at the end of this discussion, it is up to the reader to decide what they mean to them.

                We see the concepts of causality in the variables E (environment), C (circumstance), k (knowledge), and e (experience). Circumstance and environment can be thought of as causes. An example of circumstance can be genetic characteristics with which a person is born. The environment can be the place into which the person was born. These are not the sole aspects of circumstance and environment. Circumstances could place someone in the path of a bullet. Environment may degrade or improve a person’s life likewise. Both can be said to spawn a variety of events in a life. Often, these two factors are beyond one’s control.

                Experience and knowledge are the effects of all circumstances and environments. The result of these causes is that something happens with the possibility that something is learned. Experience always happens, but knowledge does not necessarily do so. I could have a variety of experiences, but it may take repeated attempts before I gain any knowledge. It is due to this fact that knowledge is the slowest factor to grow.  Environment and circumstance will always be greater than knowledge and experience. The world will always be greater than I. The billions of processes surrounding me will always be greater than my experiences with them.

                Put differently, environment is the “where” in life, circumstance the “how”, experience is what is happening. The “who” is the 1L in question. Knowledge is the “why.” Why are we thrust in circumstances in some environment to experience things? To gain in knowledge. What is the value of this knowledge? The absolute value of experience multiplied by knowledge is wisdom.

                Due to this, wisdom, represented by W, must always be positive. If some “wisdom” caused negative effects, let’s say rampant disease, it would cease to be wisdom. Even if knowledge or experience is negative, but lead to a positive outcome, they may be thought of as wisdom. The effect of wisdom causes life to grow at an exponential rate. It puts the greatest value on all of our knowledge or experiences and allows us to affect the greatest changes to our circumstances and environment.

                Now, we can return to truth. Truth is a more universal concept. Truth is a lasting knowledge multiplied by our experience compounded by our wisdom.

As stated previously, truth is highly subjective. This being said, some widely accepted truths may exist, such as “proven” scientific knowledge. The difference between truth and wisdom is that truth may not always be positive. Negative experience or knowledge compounded by odd wisdom may in fact increase this negative truth. However, negative knowledge and experience, compounded by even wisdom may result in a positive truth. By even I mean a balancing wisdom, a wisdom that “evens” things out.  Odd wisdom, therefore would further imbalance this truth.

                At last, we have established the Anti-Life Equation.

Let’s discuss the motive behind creating this formula, the relationship between the factors. In mathematical laws, a zero cannot exist in a denominator. It causes an “undefined” number. Suppose our truth (T) was zero; that is, we had no truth. For that I mean our knowledge, experience, and wisdom amounted to nothing. Our life would be undefined. Death would not have any definition because our life would not. We must have some understanding, some truth; if only, I am here. How preposterous the philosopher whose truth claims he doesn’t exist at all. However, if one accepts this formula, the understanding of his nonexistence would be a truth. It would, therefore, prove the existence of his life.

                The same could be said of the denominator factors of knowledge and experience. Without these, life would also be undefined. A person would not exist. A birth must be experienced to exist. Knowledge must also be present, even as simple as the rudimentary knowledge to breathe or beat the heart. Following deductive reasoning, if knowledge or experience cannot be zero, then neither can environment or circumstance. If the latter are the effect of the causes, environment and circumstance, then it stands to reason that a zero cause cannot exist. There can be no effects if there were no causes.

                Finishing our examination on zeroes is time. Time has a special domain in that it cannot be equal to or less than zero. If no time passes, there is no life or death; nothing happens. Time cannot be negative. Time passes, ever increasing, but to date I’ve yet to have it go backwards.

                We move on to investigating negatives. Based on the inverse relationship of truth and death, a lower truth factor would increase death. If we understand that something negative is harmful to us, it is logical to infer we would die more frequently or sooner.

                Let’s presume that we had a negative environment or circumstance. These could lead to a negative experience or knowledge. Together, this may lead to a negative or bad, harmful life. Unless there was a higher positive number in one of these factors the whole of life could be negative. That is, of course, unless there was some balancing or “even” wisdom to put it all into perspective.

                Here, we run into a mathematical paradox. What if all 4 factors (environment, circumstance, knowledge, and experience) are negative? Or What if one in the numerator and one in the denominator is excessively negative? Mathematically these would calculate to a positive. Unless we had some “even-ing” wisdom that would solve this conundrum, common sense tells us that so many negative aspects in a life cannot possibly be a positive.

                To solve this issue, let’s look at this more closely with humanity as a whole. A person is born into poor circumstances and environment. Throughout their life they continue to have a disproportionate number of more harmful experiences and knowledge. This person is likely to die sooner. They die sooner by having a negative life in a rather short period of time. Based on our original statement of variation, as life goes up, so does death. In this instance our formula still holds. The negative experiences still calculated to a positive life, if only because they died sooner. Their death removed a large concentration of negative influences in a shortened period of time. This was a positive benefit for the species as a whole.

The actual calculation of any term for any of these variables is impossible. The value in this formula is the same as the value of philosophy as a whole; critical thought. Reading the Anti-Life Equation as a whole, one could say that life as a function of environment and circumstances divided by knowledge and experience compounded exponentially by one’s wisdom multiplied by the passage of time, all divided by a person’s great truths directly relates to their death. The final question to ask the reader is, “Will it be positive or negative?”