on nine eleven

  On this day we mark a decade since the events surrounding the 11th of September, 2001. Many changes have taken place in our nation since that bright summer day, some that restrict us in our liberty, others that inconvenience to little noticeable advantage. Absent clear and defining purpose, we have foundered collectively among the shoals of short-sightedness and greed, bruised badly by the false promise of unlimited consumer credit, our public figures beating the drums of nationalism and xenophobia in tones ever more vituperative and religious, the cultural diversity of our peoples muted by creeping corporate homogenization, our inventiveness forgotten in the face of gadgets that rarely prove convenient to the economics of time, our artistic creativity lost in the mirror-maze of sequels, mash-ups, and gimmickry, our citizens willfully abusing the national flag in misguided attempts to prove to others their patriotism, that deep and pure sense of pride that shines most brightly when it is cultivated within the confines of the heart, a sense that shrinks when displayed too prominently.
  I was in Manhattan that day; I volunteered three days later in the dust and wreckage blanketing the North Cove; I lost a fraternity brother who had just started work high up in the North Tower. But, then as now, I will never succumb to fear, never believe in America-über-alles, never discriminate against someone because of their choice of religion, never accept torture as a means necessary to the common defense, never disgrace the Stars and Stripes to prove to another my love for country, and never cease in my attempts to secure the Blessings of Liberty to myself, my brothers and sisters, and our Posterity.
  My the people who died on that September day not so long ago continue to rest in peace.


Ultima Ratio Regum - 場黑麥 John Paul Roggenkamp

on cutting grass

  Over the past few months, I have been cutting an acre of grass on my family's estate that must be regularly trimmed (to avoid fines) with an eighty year old push-mower I had found in the barn. A regular spinning-wheel-of-death number, this thirty pound cast iron beast (which after a good oiling now operates much more smoothly) with a fourteen inch wide cutting surface cuts best when the blades are running at full speed. Momentum captured by gears within the wheel hubs rotates the spinning cylinder of blades as the wheel o' death moves forward.

  Cutting with the ancient system requires skill, physical acuity, planning, and determination; it best resembles a cross-training workout in which a person sprints while pushing or pulling a heavy object (necessary in this case to keep the blades moving at cutting speed), but it is more demanding, because she is constantly altering the course of the machine as it bumps and lurches across roots in an effort to make the cut even and to thus spare herself the hassle of going back over everything every time, all the while applying significant force on the wooden t-bar connecting her to the cutting deck to keep it mowing efficiently. Two of the more demanding sections to cut on this land are a steep and lumpy hill as well as a shallow, sloping incline rutted by a sunken septic tank.

  One reason I do this is because my powered mowing machines broke or were getting too expensive to maintain and run. Another reason is that it is such a good physical workout that, if parceled out among the days of the week, I will be performing an hour a day of intense physical labor with much good sweating and working out of the entire body (especially if done barefoot). A third reason I do this is because of the increase (in my observation) in the biodiversity of the mowed area since starting to hand-mow, an abundance of tiny insects and myriad spiders, praying mantises and crawling bugs, food for a robust food chain with avian predators (Barred owl, hawks, buzzards) at the top and smaller mammals, birds, and reptiles making up the middle class. The final reason I do this is because I believe that it is my patriotic duty, that as a Son of the American Revolution and as one seeking to carry on the spirit of self-sufficiency and -reliance that resonates yet today among the peoples of this land, even such a small contribution to the national necessity of weening ourselves off foreign oil supports the cause of American energy independence and reduces the need for our troopers to go and spill blood in distant and alien places.

  It takes me six hours to cut my lawn, but even if you have a smaller lawn, one that would take only an hour to mow by hand rather than twenty minutes on a ride-along, cut it up into two or three parcels and you've got your workout for those days of the week (20-30 min of honest sweating). It might seem less expensive time-wise to do it with a mechanized machine, but consider the time spent going to the pump, buying gas, filling up the riding mower and maintaining it regularly, spending time and money waiting for it to be maintained or driving it to the shop, the blades dulling down and needing sharpening, whereas a push mower sharpens itself while spinning.

  The wheel o' death cuts down on emissions because it runs on cheeseburgers. It strengthens communal ties because it puts you out there upright and strong, the proof of your efforts dampening your shirt, not on a clanking go-cart from which conversation with your neighbor is impossible, but right out there with your feet on the ground, a fine example for those in the neighborhood who might not know how best to show their love for country. It fills you with a deep appreciation for your land and the things that live on it, hastens the grasp of blessed rest, strengthens the muscles, toughens the bones, and fortifies the position of America in the world.

  So consider mowing by hand: the benefits over mechanized mowing keep stacking up. Do it for yourself; do it for the Earth; do it for your country. Few other forms of patriotism are healthier.

場黑麥 John Paul Roggenkamp