The Preservation of Favored Theories in the Struggle for Minds

In the nineteenth century, Thomas Huxley became known as Darwin’s Bulldog. In the twenty first century Richard Dawkins could be called “Darwin’s Rottweiler,” as suggested by the man who endowed the chair now held by Dawkins. Dawkins is a British Zoologist, and the Charles Simonyi Professor in the Public Understanding of Science at Oxford University. Charles Simonyi endowed this chair specifically to free Dawkins, in his writings, has exhibited an open hostility towards religion. As a guest lecturer at Auburn University in Montgomery, Alabama, he departed from his prepared text to critique a textbook label. A transcript of this critique was later titled The “Alabama Insert”: A Study in Ignorance and Dishonesty. Let’s match Dawkins’ complaint against relevant criteria. Where lays the ignorance and dishonesty spoken of in the transcript title? Is his evidence solid, and appropriately applied? Is his logic sound or faulty? Does he betray a motivation more aggressively anti-creation than merely enthusiastically pro-evolution?

While most people care little – or find themselves in the undecided middle – there are two widely separated and vocal extremes in the evolution verses creation battle. At one extreme are the young-Earth, Bible believing, uncompromising, fundamental literalists who’re sure they know every jot and tittle of their sacred text. At the other extreme are the billions-of-years-to-evolve, Darwin believing, uncompromising, fundamental naturalists who’re sure they have correctly interpreted sufficient data. Dawkins proves himself to be an archetypical extremist of the latter type as he critiques The Alabama Insert in a patronizingly harsh and arrogant manner. Contrary to showing why the label should not be used, he is an example of exactly why such a label is vitally needed.

What is this label that has Dawkins’ knickers in such a knot?

A MESSAGE FROM THE ALABAMA STATE BOARD OF EDUCATION

[to be pasted in all biology textbooks]

•This textbook discusses evolution, a controversial theory some scientists present as a scientific explanation for the origin of living things, such as plants, animals and humans.

•No one was present when life first appeared on Earth. Therefore, any statement about life’s origins should be considered as theory, not fact.

•The word “evolution” may refer to many types of change. Evolution describes changes that occur within species. (White moths, for example, may “evolve” into gray moths.) This process is microevolution, which can be observed and described as fact. Evolution may also refer to the change of one living thing to another, such as reptiles into birds. This process, called macroevolution, has never been observed and should be considered a theory. Evolution also refers to the unproven belief that random, undirected forces produced a world of living things.

•There are many unanswered questions about the origin of life which are not mentioned in your textbooks, including:

•Why did the major groups of animals suddenly appear in the fossil record (known as the Cambrian Explosion)?

•Why have no new major groups of living things appeared in the fossil record in a long time?

•Why do major groups of plants and animals have no transitional forms in the fossil record?

•How did you and all living things come to possess such a complete and complex set of “instructions” for building a living body?

•Study hard and keep an open mind. Someday you may contribute to the theories of how living things appeared on Earth.

Dawkins went through a sentence-by-sentence lambasting of this label. We will not have to do the same, because he establishes his pattern of argument quickly, and maintains it throughout.

He begins his critique by shooting himself in the foot. He comes out with guns blazing, and says, “This is dishonest. The use of ‘some scientists’ […]”, Dawkins complains, implies a significant “number of respectable scientists who do not accept evolution.” The use of “some” to denote an unspecified number – while perhaps an understatement – is not dishonest, especially considering the overstated nature of typical pro-evolutionary arguments. A number need not be large to be significant. The rest of his opening argument is ad hominem, launching into an invective against the credentials and qualifications of those who disagree with evolutionism. He claims the proportion of qualified scientists not believing is insignificant. He talks about “so called” creation scientists whose PhDs “are, I think, never in relevant subjects.” There are even working biologists who recognize the limits of the theory of evolution. Michael Behe – himself a biochemist – cites Klaus Dose as “a prominent worker in the field of origin-of-life research.”

“More than 30 years of experimentation on the origin of life […] (has) lead to a better perception of the immensity of the problem […] rather than to its solution. At present all discussions on principal theories and experiments in the field either end in stalemate or in a confession of ignorance.”

A number of qualified people have spoken their doubts about the more extravagant claims of the theory of evolution. A common ploy used by evolutionary biology extremists is to suggest that none other than biologists are qualified to judge evolutionary claims. It does not take a qualified biologist to understand nomenclature, methodology, contradictory evidence, and faulty logic; especially when there are qualified biologists like Behe and Dose who are willing to speak candidly about the limits of what is known. With whom does the ignorance and dishonesty lie?

Having shot himself in the foot, Dawkins abandons his pistols and picks up a saber to duel with the semantics of “theory.” Here we have an opportunity for a more revealing look at one of the facets of this complex issue. It is the unsubstantiated overstating of the certainty of the theory at one extreme, and the misunderstanding of the term at the other, that helps keep these two ends apart.

“Theory: an explanation or model based on observation, experimentation, and reasoning, especially one that has been tested and confirmed as a general principle helping to explain and predict natural phenomena.”

There are variables in this definition and nuances to consider: “based on,” not proven by; “especially,” but not limited to; “helping to,” but not totally explaining. The definition of scientific theory is broad, and in practice is broader still. Dawkins himself adds the phrase, “as well as for ideas that are little more than a hunch” to the definition of theory. It could be rightly said that a particular theory could be: “an explanation or model based on reasoning, and assuming to explain natural phenomena.” With this broad definition, Dawkins still manages to contradict himself within a single sentence, and again in the next sentence. After using the example of there being many different theories as to why the dinosaurs died out, and admitting that nobody knows why, he defines this as an example of an open question for which more evidence is needed. Then, directly referring to origins as just such an open question, he plainly says,

“That is also true of the origin of life, but it is not the case with the theory of evolution itself. Evolution is as true as the theory that the world goes around the sun.”

Did he just say, “We don’t have enough evidence to decide the origin of life, but the general theory of evolution – which includes origins – is as true as the world going around the sun?” Dawkins then engages in some stereotyping by contrasting theory with myth and comparing the “Jewish origin myth” with other creation stories that have the world being formed from ant dung, or being stirred up in a cosmic butter churn. I’ve yet to see an anti-creation writer fail to insist the entire theory of evolution is way closer to certainty than the evidence supports; nor have I seen anyone writing in support of creationism doing other than implying that “theory” is ever more than just a guess.

Another characteristic of the debate is the failure to recognize what a huge difference a single letter makes. The difference between microevolution and macroevolution is infinitely greater than a difference in spelling. It’s also the difference between Dawkins’ evidence being acceptable or its being inappropriately applied. The theory of evolution is two theories. Macroevolution requires an increase in complexity from one kind of life to another. Microevolution accounts for the tremendous variety we see, and does not entail an increase in complexity. Dawkins ridicules the creationists for making a point of the difference between micro and macro. Typical of anti-creation arguments, he haughtily sweeps it aside with the ubiquitous appeal to time.

“Actually, it’s no big deal. Macroevolution is nothing more than microevolution stretched out over a much greater time span.”

This logic would claim that because a motorcycle and a Mack™ truck both have engines, are made of metal, and roll on rubber tires, they both evolved from – as a common ancestor – a pile of tin cans and inner tubes that were discarded millions of years ago. Every attempt at evidence Dawkins offers is an example of micro – not macro – evolution. He chants the evolutionist’s litany of moths, finches, dogs, and hybridized plants, and expects you to pause-step in procession to the cadence of his liturgy. In every example he cites as proof of evolution he ends up with what he started with. He started with moths – inserted several words of gibberish – and ended up with moths; started with finches, and ended up with finches; started with dogs, and ended up with dogs. And what about the hybridizing of plants? That’s a planned, purpose-driven process inserting outside intelligence and design to influence the characteristics of succeeding generations. It mimics creation rather than evolution. When attempting to explain origins the anti-creationist always cites microevolution, and then appeals to the ubiquitous “lots and lots of time.”

There seem to be often repeated examples used by anti-creationists whenever they try to brush aside the questions of creationists. Archaeopteryx is a favorite. It is billed as a transition from reptile to bird. Remember the supposed evolution of the horse in your high school biology text? Peddlers of macroevolution also like to point out vestigial organs that he claims were of use in the far distant past, but are now mere reminders of our evolutionary history. The problem for the evolutionist is that every feature of Archaeopteryx has proven to be either a feature of modern bird or not a feature of reptiles. Archaeopteryx is not transitional. The classical sequence of horse evolution appears nowhere in the fossil record, and the Eohippus – the supposed ancestor – is nearly the same as the now existing African Hyrax. In addition, modern horse types have been found in the same fossil strata as Eohippus. And the list of supposed vestigial organs grows shorter and shorter as we discover their heretofore-unknown functions.

Dawkins continues ad nauseam in the same vein. There is the continual appeal to time – alone and without design input – as enough to account for macroevolution. One argument can be summed up as: Macroevolution happens too slowly for us to observe in the present, but it happened to quickly in the past to have left evidence. In his own words:

“The riddle for any theory to answer is, ‘how do you get complicated, statistically improbable apparent design?’ Darwin’s theory of evolution by natural selection is the only known theory that can answer this riddle.”

Any theory, as long as it’s the one he preaches. There will always be those at each extreme too stubborn to compromise. The evolutionist lobby employs the First Amendment of the Constitution, and its clause regarding the establishment of religion, as a check against the creationist lobby. What check is there on a peer-reviewed system of dissertation, hiring, publishing, and tenure? No matter how vital and dynamic academia is in general, or how professional most of those involved, there exists the potential for abuse. For the evolutionist to ask why – if there is so much evidence for creation – is there not more published in qualified journals, is akin to asking why you wouldn’t board your pet kitten in a Pit Bull kennel. Someone might accuse the worst of anti-creation extremists of being the academic equivalent of bullies beating up the little creationist kid.

Mr. Dawkins’ critique of The Alabama Insert is a prejudicial diatribe against an idea that he cannot disprove, but refuses to consider. His judgments are not adequately substantiated. He sang a little song about relevant credentials, did a little dance of nomenclature, and then – after squirting a little seltzer in your pants – he pulls closed a curtain of valid microevolutionary tapestry to cover his assumptions of macroevolution. He then relaxes in his dressing room to read Darwin’s book, the full title of which is, The Origin of Species by Means of Natural Selection; or, the Preservation of Favoured Races in the Struggle for Life.The Alabama Insert. Perhaps it should even be required. Evolutionism is not the only show in town. Close the curtain on their burlesque show, and allow the use of the Alabama Insert. Perhaps it should even be required.

The Medic's Unwanted Memory

I have been rewriting this poem on and off for over 20 years. It started with a creative writing class sometime around 1985 and was inspired by a picture of my brother that was in his personal belongings that were sent to my folks after he was killed in Vietnam.

It is a particularly haunting photo. The eyes. You could see the war in his eyes. Trauma, fatigue, despair. They were all over his face. Damn that war to hell, and the sonsofbitches in DC who wasted those lives.

The story of his death is full of the most bitter irony. He had less than a month before his rotation out of Nam and his discharge from the Army. He was no longer sent on Medivacs or patrols. He was finishing his tour at the Base Camp Aide Station of the 28th of the 1st. The camp was being expanded. The mine fields were being skimmed by a bulldozer. One of the mines had spilled out of the dirt and detonated far enough from the blade of the bulldozer to injure the operator. Practically every medic at the aide station went to his aide. Having followed the bulldozer track marks out to the injured operator, they had treated him and were ready to carry him out when another mine detonated in their midst. It may easily have been one of the mines produced at the Cornhusker Army Ammunition Plant... where my father was employed as a millwright.

In honor of my brother, SP5 Hugh Conrad Clausen, 8/10/1944 - 9/22/1966, SM/BS/PH

THE MEDIC'S UNWANTED MEMORIES

• With furrowed brow and vacant eyes,
• he stares from under the brim
  
• of a canvas covered helmet,
• unable to not remember
• the riotous fright
• of that last fire fight.

• With the unfocused glare
• of a thousand yard stare,
• he looks through you,
• not at you,
• you're not even there.

• In blood stained fatigues,
• jaw slackened by despair,
• his mouth hangs agape
• in the eternal unspoken
• "Why?"

• His mind has been scourged,
• flailed into a fugue
• by the lead beaded whip of war
• as he tried to reweave
• a tapestry of young flesh.

• The warp and weft
• of his company's fabric
• tattered and unraveled
• by the ordnance of
• explosive political failure.

• Frigid fingers of grief
• claw through the jungle
• to seize his soul
• in the icy hot grip
• of unwanted memory.

• Shuddering ever so slightly,
• his empty medical kit
• slips from his fingers.

• A tear begins to puddle
• in the corner of one eye
• as the medic remembers
• and stares vacantly
• from under the brim
• of a canvas covered helmet.

GOING WITH THE FLOW

I can no more fathom the fact of my age than I can make my cats come when I call them. That seems to be where the years have gone; like my cats, they are out of sight until they want to be seen... at meal time. My years, though, are pretty much out of sight until I get up in the morning; then my body feels every minute of my 57 years.
No major complaint, just a fact. There's good things about growing older... and some bad. Beyond diet, exercise, and rest I can't do much about the fact the I am not a kid anymore. What I can do is take advantage of the perspective that a person may gain by surviving long enough. I heard somewhere that the difference between wisdom and enlightenment is that wisdom is what you learn from your own mistakes and that enlightenment is what you learn from the mistakes of others. I may be growing wiser, but I have not yet quite grasp that enlightenment business.

I've been, at times (sometimes all the at the same time) a dreamer, a druggie, and a drunk. What I have not been, but rarely, is decisive. Nor have I ever remained particularly focused. Having gotten passed the drugs and toning the drinking down to a little beer once in a while to take the edge off, I am still a somewhat of a dreamer.

What I have learned about my dreaming is that it puts my mind out in some nebulous could-be place that is only vaguely connected with my present. So what do you do when you are only focused on the present just enough to keep yourself fed and the rent paid? You "go with the flow." Like aging, going with the flow has some good points and some bad points.

On the good side, I have a wealth of experience. Places, jobs, people, productive processes, different ways to live, and different ways to believe. Grist for the mill if you will. On the bad side, going with the flow can end you up in the rapids and over the waterfall: wet, bruised and battered, and, with luck, beached. And flat ass broke.

That's what being 57 and unemployed is like. Beached, washed up on the shore, castaway. Ageism may illegal, but it's a fact. If you think it is not, wait until you are in your fifties, get laid-off, and then try to find work in a shaky economy. The way I have gone with the flow has landed my where I am, but it has also equipped me to deal with it. I know how to do a great deal. What I can not afford to hire done, I can do for myself. I am not without hope.

But to wrap up this post and get on with scrapping together a few bucks: Go with the flow? Bah! Get your head out of the posterior region of your anatomy and pay attention to what you are doing with your life. Focus on something you are good at. And save your money.

EVOLUTIONISM: FACT OR FAITH? (A classical argument paper)

Is there a question more religious by nature than how life came to be? The theory of evolution – by reason of its premise – is as religious in nature as any theory of creation, yet enjoys a monopoly in public school classrooms. In spite of the evolutionist faith already being taught I’m not – repeat not – proposing that we also teach Biblical Creationism. The question of whether life was created or arose as a purely natural process of chance and time is challengeable on the bases of science and logic without appealing to any sacred texts. Fairness and academic honesty compel the inclusion in public school science curricula of a non-Biblical, scientific challenge to evolution’s underlying assumptions and interpretations.

“It is no more heretical to say the universe displays purpose, [. . .] than to say that it is pointless, [. . .] Both statements are metaphysical and outside science. Yet it seems that scientists are permitted by their own colleagues to say metaphysical things about lack of purpose and not the reverse. This suggests to me that science, in allowing this metaphysical notion, sees itself as religion.”

This allegation of evolutionism’s religiosity is not exclusive to the religionist; it was made by no less a personage than Dr. Michael Shallis, 1984 staff tutor in Physical Science at the University of Oxford. One characteristic of a religion is its acceptance of the supernatural. The supernatural is nothing more mysterious than that which “occurs outside the normal experience or knowledge of man.” The origin of life is such an occurrence. Any assumption concerning the origin of life is by definition an assumption of the supernatural. A philosophy that presumes to dogmatically answer the question of how life came to be is a religious and supernatural philosophy. Schools can teach about all the religion they want, but don’t compel the practice of one, and especially don’t imply there is only one to practice. By mandating the exclusive teaching of the theory of evolution, failing to include reasonable dissension, continually alluding to it as fact instead of theory, and using textbooks that are demonstrably riff with error, our schools are effectively shoving a judgment concerning a religious issue down our children’s throats. May whatever power or non-power you may or may not pray to save our young from those who are so awfully certain they are right.

Harvard Professor of Genetics, Richard Lewontin, a world leader in Evolutionary Biology, acknowledges the nature of evolutionism’s foundation.

“We take the side of science in spite of the patent absurdity of some of its constructs, [. . .] because we have a prior commitment, [. . .] (W)e are forced by our a priori adherence to material causes to create an apparatus of investigation and a set of concepts that produce material explanations, no matter how counter-intuitive, [. . .]. Moreover, that materialism is an absolute, for we cannot allow a Divine Foot in the door.”

The theory of evolution does not end with naturalism; that is, “the view that all phenomena can be explained in terms of natural causes.” It begins with an assumption of naturalism. The assumption of naturalism is an appeal to that which has neither been experienced nor observed by man. When forming a model for research, can anybody be purely objective and perfectly unbiased? If alternate scenarios leave the same evidence it is a faith-based choice which one will most influence your interpretations. Imagine a careless target shooter left his loaded rifle on the freshly waxed hood of his pickup when he went to reset his targets. A typical Kittitas Valley breeze gave the pickup a good shake and there went the rifle. It bounced off his front-mounted winch, discharged, and put a bullet through his brain. Or at least that’s what his wife told the deputy. Evolutionism is no less a religion or more a science than any theory of creation science; it requires as much faith – in the unproved premise of naturalism – to assume no creator as it does to accept a creator. Non-Biblical creation theories modeled on the existing evidence are no less scientific than the theory of evolution. I think it might be prudent to at least investigate how smooth evolution’s marriage to the facts has been, and if it has taken out any large insurance policies recently. And while we’re at it, let’s run a nitrate test to see if the missus has fired any weapons lately.

The theory of evolution – dogmatically asserting naturalism – is taught as the only way life could have arose. This is tantamount to teaching that the only religion is Catholicism, Fundamentalism, Islam, or even Atheism. Should any theory enjoy such a monopoly and be immune to critical examination? If the theory of evolution is as firmly established as it is pretended to be it should be easily defended, and nothing more than an exercise in the development of critical thinking skills and investigative practices will have been added to the curricula. Evolutionists argue against creationism on the grounds that it is religion, and thus to be excluded on the basis of the First Amendment. This fails to account for evolutionism’s own religious nature, and its status as the only officially sanctioned theory. This puts unfair pressure on those who would believe otherwise. The exclusive teaching of evolutionism is itself a transgression of the Free Exercise clause of the First Amendment. The repetition ad nauseam of a litany of theories disguised as facts has the effect of a brainwashing technique discouraging belief in an alternate theory that may fit the facts as well, or better, than the current version of a constantly changing theory. Whether intentional or not, this is the intellectual equivalent of “prohibiting the free exercise” of a reasonable belief. A mockingbird mimicking a meadowlark may fool you until you take the time to investigate the source of the song.

Many evolutionists fear the ideas of creationists as a stalking horse. This notion that once in the door creationists will run amok and attack all the sciences is absurd, especially in light of the fact that it is on the basis of the sciences that creationists wish to challenge the evolutionists. Those who wish to challenge evolution’s assumptions and conclusions are not Greek soldiers hiding in the belly of a wooden horse, nor are they enemies of science. Most scientists working today are dealing with issues of the present. Scientific methodology serves very well in the present. If methodology can be used at all to interpret the past it can only do so in an oblique and subjective manner. If different events leave the same evidence you cannot use methodology to authoritatively establish which event occurred. To insist that evolution is the only model that the evidence fits – or can fit – is just plain bad science.

Take two theorists with one assuming naturalism, and the other assuming a creator, and leave them the same evidence. Take one coin – assumption – and on one side inscribe: “Naturalism, no creator, life just happened.” On the other side inscribe: “Life was caused, life shows design, entropy increases.” For the evolutionist to argue that the creationist should have no influence in the science classroom because evolutionism is science and creationism is religion is as patently absurd as the Seattle Seahawks saying the Denver Broncos don’t belong on the football field because the Seahawks are a football team and the Broncos are a swimming team. In the same manner, non-Biblical creationism based on the assumption of a creator is no less a science than evolutionism based on the assumption of naturalism.

There is justifiable reason to doubt if evolution is the way we got here. Essentially, entropy – the amount of unavailable energy – is increasing. Whenever any process of any kind occurs some energy is forever lost to a form no longer usable. The observed trend of the universe is to grow increasingly diffuse and seek equal temperature. Things are falling apart and becoming less lively. They are not falling together and becoming livelier. When the evolutionist points out that the Earth is an open system – receiving energy from an outside source – he is still assuming that energy alone and undirected by design can account for the processes he claims the evidence supports. This is similar to pouring a gallon of gasoline over a random pile of motorcycle parts and expecting to ride it downtown when you ignite the gas. Actually the pile of motorcycle parts has an advantage: they are already organized into discrete building blocks that can be bolted together into a working machine. The evolutionist has assumed a natural process that must first form even the most basic building blocks. Further than this, he postulates a universe where even the material that forms the most basic building blocks had to itself come into being by purely natural means. The evolutionist is driving the wrong way on a one-way street.

Even if evolutionists were able to duplicate any supposed beginning of life from some assumed primordial muck the result would not prove naturalism – as the experiment would not happen spontaneously – and would only demonstrate that nothing happened until someone organized some material and conducted an experiment. Leave the results on the bench long enough and they will not crawl away. They will rot, mold, dry up, or in some other way demonstrate that entropy increases. Randomness suggests that for every action favorable to life there is an action hindering life. The evolutionist is peeking at the answers before he takes the test.

The fossil record does not support evolution. The record does not show a gradual change within species. It does show that species appear fully formed, suddenly, and with no evidence of intermediaries. The most notable thing about the fossil record is its failure to support the theory of evolution. The evolutionist is filling in the blanks with elaborate guesswork. This is only a minuscule sampling of hundreds of legitimate topics. There are hundreds of books, thousands of articles, and tens of thousands of websites devoted to this issue.

Neither the subject of God nor the possibility of God is prohibited by the First Amendment. This amendment prohibits federal sanctioning of any one particular religion and the compelling of citizens to observe that religion. God is all around us in our government, our national history, and our institutions with direct references in The Declaration of Independence, our Nation Anthem, our Pledge of Allegiance, and on our currency. Over the east portico of the Supreme Court Building is an image of Moses holding the two tablets of the Ten Commandments. The Ten Commandments are also engraved over the chair of the Chief Justice and on the doors of the court. These simple facts of our history and culture threaten nobody’s liberty or their right to disbelieve. While evolutionists and atheists have First Amendment grounds to ban Biblical creationism from public school it would be a bit of a stretch to include a non-Biblical scientific challenge to their assumptions in this same ban.

When the priests of evolutionism meet the preachers of creationism the contest quickly becomes what it has been from the beginning: a contest of religion verses religion. Ultimately both must rely on faith. The evolutionist must have faith in his unproved premise of naturalism just as the creationist must rely on faith. The evolutionist might remember when he looks at his side of the coin that the only thing separating him from the creationist is that assumption of naturalism from which his whole argument stems. And so too might the creationist remember the tremendous effort the evolutionist has invested in his science, and – given his assumptions – his conclusions are the justifiable results of a rational process.

May we be allowed aspirations greater than as participants in a parade from primordial muck to modern man? Or are we merely a freak accident caused by nothing, meaning nothing, and going nowhere but oblivion? Advocate neither as fact. Examine both as possibilities.

THE DROWNING SIREN

In 1966, the year I turned fifteen, my world was the Loup River, the gently rolling hills of a prairie plateau, and the sleepy little village of Boelus, Nebraska. Viet Nam, race riots, and the Cultural Revolution were all far away – just two dimensional images on a nineteen inch screen for a few minutes in the evening. Except for the space program, I didn’t pay much attention to the news. My biggest worries were my weight, my acne, and mustering up enough guts to ask someone to dance.

Most of my classmates lived on farms far from town, so most of our socializing was limited to school. When I did get together with the few friends who lived in the village it might be to listen to records, play catch, or just lounge around daydreaming. There was a lot of open country within walking distance, so camping and fishing were easy. I willingly spent a lot of my free time alone. I could explore the river and prairie for hours at a time before getting bored and going home to read Hardy Boys novels, build models, or watch TV.

The Rural Electrification Administration had built a dam on the river during the Roosevelt years. Water diverted to the powerhouse canal was controlled by raising and lowering guillotine-like gates. Swimming the underwater passage from the reservoir, under the gate, and into the canal was a dare to teenage machismo that some of the swimmers could not resist.

There were neither riverboats nor runaway slaves, so I didn’t really expect to meet Huckleberry Finn. Like the Mississippi though, life usually moved pleasantly and smoothly. The prairie was an easy place in which to dream. When I stood very still and listened closely enough, I heard the mournful, falsetto funeral cry of Sioux ghosts. A lifeless young warrior, wrapped in a rawhide cocoon, was lifted to the sky on an ornamented scaffold overlooking the river. Perhaps a Pawnee warrior had jumped unexpectedly out of hiding and viciously cut him down.

Though I was a dreamer and blissfully uninformed of current affairs, as long as I lived in Boelus I would always know four things: when it was noon, when there was a fire, when a tornado was spotted, and when someone was drowning. These four things were announced by the siren on top of the village fire hall. The siren would signal noon by winding up to a full wail and then unwinding to silence. It would summon the firefighters by repeating the signal over and over. For tornadoes, the siren would twist out yet a different signal by cranking up to full volume to fall off briefly before climbing back up. After five ascents to full volume, it would fall all the way to silence before repeating the cycle. But the most haunting cry of all was the drowning siren. It would be turned on and left to wail away, uninterrupted, at full volume for a minute or more. That unrelenting howl compelled the most urgent response.

One pleasant Friday afternoon in autumn, I was in sophomore typing class with the other fifteen members of the class of `69. As our nimble teen fingers were tapping out exercises on the keyboards of our IBM Selectrics, someone knocked at the door of our second floor classroom. When Mr. Ryan opened the door there stood a grizzly bear wearing a suit. It was our superintendent, Mr. Jensen. A pudgy finger shoved his glasses back up on his nose. His feelings were usually hidden under a mask of puffy flesh; that day though, as he spoke with our teacher he was twitchy and his eyes kept darting nervously toward me. As Mr. Ryan stepped back from the door, the jittery bear settled his eyes briefly on me and said, “David, come with me please… and bring your books.”

Not being guilty of anything worthy of his attention, I was mystified. What was the problem? In the hall I asked, “What’s going on? What do you need to see me about?” Turning away toward the stairwell, he answered tersely, “I can’t tell you anything, David. I don’t know. Your mother called and asked me to get you home right away.”

We walked in silence to the stairwell, down to the school house door, and out to Mr. Jensen’s big, black Chrysler. As we left the parking lot, his stony silence discouraged me from questioning him again. I stared out the side window without focusing until we got to the highway. Instead of turning onto the main road as expected, he crossed it. I began to look around apprehensively. This was not the regular route to my place. He was taking the dustier, slower way. I wouldn’t be able to see my house until we were very close. A fuse was sputtering in my guts. If he had to get me home so fast, why was he taking the slow road?

When we finally got to the corner by the store, my house came into view and I found myself staring at an olive drab sedan of the United States Army parked on the street in front of it.

I had only two connections with the Army. My brother, Hugh, was a combat medic in Viet Nam. Before Southeast Asia, he was at a prep school for West Point long enough to learn he didn’t want to tolerate the political crap that would be part of everyday life at the academy. His academy-trained officers didn’t like his opinion of the institution which they venerated so dearly. With less than a year left on his enlistment, they saw to it that he was sent to Viet Nam. By September, 1966, Hugh had little enough time left on his enlistment that he no longer had to go out on patrols or with Medevacs. He would finish his tour at the base camp aid station.

My second connection with the Army was Dad. My father was a millwright at the Cornhusker Army Ammunition Plant. They produced bombs and the antipersonnel mines nicknamed “Bouncing Betties,” which were designed to jump up like a bouncing ball and detonate in a deadly band of shrapnel.

Maybe someone was there to tell us Hugh or Dad was injured and in the hospital. Maybe everything would be okay. I got out of the car and quickly went into the house with Mr. Jensen coming along behind. My mother was standing alone in the living room wringing her hands together against her stomach, forehead wrinkled with worry, eyes pleading.

My eyes reflected hers as I asked, “Mom, what’s going on? What’s happening?” She answered plaintively, “I don’t know, son. That man from the Army won’t tell me anything yet.” Mr. Jenson asked mother, “Is there anything I can do here?” “Yes, Douglas, please,” she points out the window at the olive drab sedan, “he’s gone over to the store to find some neighbors. Could you see what’s keeping him?”

Dad was on his way home from the plant. An Army officer returned from the store with a couple of neighbors who bracketed my mother protectively. Dad soon arrived. The officer began to read a telegram to my parents, “It is with deepest regret that I inform you of the death of your son…”

Mother cried mournfully as she leaned into a neighbor. Father’s face twisted in pain as he took it in the gut, and sobbed, “Oh God!” Pain squeezed tears out of me as my fists clenched in helpless anger at my sides. I wanted to kill the pukes that had sent my brother to Viet Nam.

After our emotions faded to a mere numbness, we were able to hear how Hugh died. Someone had been injured when a mine was unintentionally detonated. Medics from the aid station went unhesitatingly to his aid. Just as they stood and started back to the aid station, another mine jumped unexpectedly out of the ground and detonated in their midst. A band of shrapnel viciously cut down seven young medics. Hugh was one of them. He would remain twenty-two years old forever.

The weight of a dreadful sadness unclenched my fists. I was pulled under a cold steel gate into a murky canal. An icy finger reached for a switch… and the drowning siren began to wail.