The sudden diversity at local

  made for interesting conversation especially in regards to What is this all about.

  It took people who'd been studying to help explain why buying a hamburger at a McDonald's was okay on a Wednesday, but not so good on a Sunday.  People shared what textbooks and crossword puzzles they had with them during longer and longer waits to get back to cities boobytrapped and bloodied by "slaughters".

  "Ideologies as

  "Say, theories of society

  "And government

  "That form the basis of

  "Political

  "Yes, political

  "Programs?

  "It was pogroms," an interviewer of survivor commented in all the talking.

  What we'd witnessed, a bunch of us, was described as "a democratic orgy", "nothing", "happens every season", and "an indescribable hell".  A cross-section of road, train, and airspace had been fencing us all in.  People were robbed, beaten, raped, children taken, and terrorized.  Outside "le pen" seemed like an ordinary day.

"Your problem is

   that this isn't a Communism." One man had asked another man, "Can you tell me what the problem is?"  There'd been narrow margin between groups walked-back from warring against each other and pockets of enclave.  Limited resource flow had caused hostage taking and some peering into what had become death and destruction situation in our American town.

  "Why can't I get anyone?" A woman asked a public service walkie talkie.  "The chore aid is on hold."  Trash was starting to mount up on front lawns without compound-fencing.  A "witch doctor" had performed another "surgery".  And without definitive on the vote counting and a president with health issues, citizens were commenting in lieu of making investments, stuff like this feels like a bazaar, and, here's a quarter call someone who cares.  The quarter saved more than a few lives when someone could get past flesh-eating dogs guarding drugs and sex for sale and contact the authorities. 

  "Captain Wallace, why are those people sitting on shelving?" A person in a Star Trek costume asked a rabbit.  The answer was complicated and unfolded through "channels" over a few days.  It essentially had to do with "troops" and "homeland".

He didn't have his legs yet.

  So we kept stashing him.  A lot of our generation's people were still high school and college age.  And were on the poor side.  Certainly most of us hadn't seen field hospital surgery.  Nor health care that wasn't okay.  Advocates and friends and neighbors were the ones saying, that's NOT okay.

Back then

   we had some serious issues.  For one thing the Korean War had left some armed forces in various states of suspension.  That translated to chain of commands being potentially compromised.  And regular citizens holding piles of potential evidence in crime that had been underreported.

   For people of my parents' generation there was a formidable loss to overcome in losing the "greatest generation".  Whether or not people were actively acknowledging that didn't matter as much as the effects of loss.  Other civilizations and cultures had had similar experience.

  The LIbrarian's Index Card just read, yours crumbled

     "Well, love, it wasn't a good racer," an egg tapped on it's ricepaper ink lei line

An elephant ardvark, the weakling

  lifted head just enough to unpress cheek on cheesecutter wire.