Watercolors
March 17, 2024 1 Comment
A short story . . .
On a cold and damp March afternoon, Maeve met with funeral director Finn Joyce to discuss final arrangements. The appointment was set up after she responded to a mailer asking if it “would give you peace of mind to plan in advance so that your family would not have to make the arrangements themselves” and after reading an article about “Unexpected Deaths in The US Are Rising at an Alarming Rate.”
Director Finn, a tall thin man with dark auburn hair, pale skin, soft hands and a whisky voice, greeted Maeve and showed her to the Arrangement Room. There, he offered her coffee and water.
Finn began their conversation by pointing to a photograph on his desk: “My wife Fiona and I have lived in the area and have operated this funeral home for twenty-five years. Fiona works with families of the deceased to arrange details of the funeral and the obituary wording. She also does the makeup and . . .”
Maeve broke in. “I was here for Eileen Delaney’s funeral. She was a friend of mine.”
“By the number who attended the funeral, she was well-loved. How long had you known her?”
“We worked together at the Evercrest Nursing Home for some thirty-five years.”
“I know the place. I been called there many times. Do you still work there?”
“Yes. I’ve taken over Eileen’s responsibilities.”
“Ah, well then, maybe I’ll see you there. My wife helped Eileen’s husband with the funeral arrangements and wrote the obituary with the help of her husband and family. We have a list of services that we can offer you and we can talk about your last wishes.” He handed her a brochure.
“We prepare obituaries, arrange clergy services and pallbearers, coordinate with the cemetery or crematory . . .” Finn stopped when he saw that Maeve wasn’t paying attention. She was looking over his shoulder at something on the wall.
“That watercolor. I know it.” Maeve said.
Finn turned around. “My wife bought it at an art show here in town. I love how the light filters through the trees.”
“That’s Summer at Blossom Grove.”
“You know the artist?” Finn got up from his chair and looked at the corner of the painting. “You know M. Monahan? Wait. Is that you?” He looked at the application on his desk. “Well Maeve, you’re quite an artist.”
Maeve blushed. “I painted the same scene at four times of the year. I wanted to show the greening and flowering and the fading and falling of leaves and the limbs in winter.”
“You know, Maeve, people have brought watercolor portraits of the deceased to the wakes here. The portraits are a beautiful memorial. They have a graceful ethereal quality to them. I provide an easel next to the casket for the portrait.”
“I paint them. I paint portraits of the people in the home. When they pass, I give the portrait to the family. I got the idea when I attended my Irish grandfather’s funeral. Family and friends came to look at his dead body the night before he was buried. They drank and shared stories about his life. When a person dies at the home, the funeral home is called and the deceased is abruptly taken away. With my portraits, I give the family a corporeal reminder so they can share stories about the person’s life.”
“The portraits are well done. You’ve must have been doing this for a long time.”
“Thank you. Yes. I started as an oil painter years ago when I worked as an ER nurse. I wanted to depict the actual strangeness of the real world I encountered every day with surrealism, in a Frida Kahlo kind of way. But over time, the work and my life were becoming too dark. So, I decided to make a change and work in a nursing home where there is a less tragic and more of a long-suffering realism. And, that’s when I became a watercolor portraitist. I like the medium. Watercolors have a life and a flow of their own when you brush them on the paper. You let go and see what happens. They are kind of unruly to a certain degree as are the subjects I paint.”
“From the comments I overhear at the wake, you certainly capture the essence of the person,” Finn remarked.
He went on to explain his services and then invited Maeve to the display room where several different caskets were showcased. He then showed her the Reposing Room where the prepared body rests until the funeral takes place. He went on to show her a Reception Room where memorial services are held.
“There will be a wake in this room tomorrow. A tragic story,” Finn shared. “A 46-year-old man – a husband and father and founder of an investment firm – was killed in a car-jacking. The newspaper said the killer got away.”
“How terrible. The sudden loss of a husband and father must be devastating for that family.”
“Yes, it has been. I met with his wife this morning. She is having a hard time . . . How does one reckon with the out-of-the-blue senselessness of what happened?”
At that moment, Fiona walked up and introduced herself to Maeve. She recognized Maeve from the art show and praised her work. She then mentioned to Finn that a call had come in. She gave him the name and location.
“I’ll walk you to the door,” Finn said. “Feel free to call if there are any questions. Maeve offered her hand. Finn took her hand and put his hand on hers.
“Sorry to share that with you. I am deeply saddened by what happened. After all my years as a mortician, I have never become accustomed to such unforeseen tragedy. And, sadly, there will be no watercolor portrait to place by the casket tomorrow.”
Maeve nodded her understanding and then thanked Finn and went on her way.
~~~
The next morning, after working a night shift at Evercrest and then making a stop, Maeve drove home to Valley Mobile Home Park and found two cars parked out front of her mobile home. She parked next to her trailer, grabbed the mail from the mail box, and then ran to the door and walked in. Sitting at the kitchen table were her younger sisters Molly and Morren and her niece Maisie. Duffy, Molly’s Pomeranian, began barking wildly when she walked in. Maeve put her purse and the mail on the counter and looked at all three.
“Who died and why is Duffy carrying on like that?” Maeve asked, taking off her rain coat. The three women sitting before her reminded her of nesting dolls – Molly the largest of the three and Maisie the smallest.
“Duffy doesn’t like that black cross running down your face.” Molly replied.
“It’s raining.” Maeve grabbed a napkin form the table and began dabbing her face.
“And Duffy doesn’t like that guy next store.” Morren added.
“My neighbor?” Maeve asked. “Why? What’s wrong with him?”
“He’s a disgusting creature, Molly blurted. “Those tattoos, that yellow skin, his scarred-up face and watery eyes. He looks like a carny who runs the Tilt-A -Whirl. He was out in front of his trailer and gave us a nasty look when we got out of the car.”
“Well,” Maeve asked the group, “was Duffy barking at him and did you give him a nasty look when you saw him?”
Molly sighed loudly. The other two just looked at their hands.
“I don’t know him, “Maeve said. “He stays to himself. There’s something sad about the guy – like he’s had a hard time of it.”
“Maybe so. He is what he is,” remarked Morren.
“We’re here to check on you,” Molly declared.
“Check on me?” Maeve laughed. She poured coffee for herself and the others and sat down.
“Yeah, Moreen and I are wondering why you’ve been so quiet lately.”
“I’ve had things on my mind. Last things things. Do something about Duffy.” Maeve replied.
Molly had Duffy come up on her lap.
“Is that why you went to church this morning?” Morren asked.
Maeve looked at the three of them. “I thought I should become a familiar face around there. I want to be recognized by the gate keepers when I go the way of all the earth.”
“I see that you’ve been reading the obits,” Molly held up the open newspaper.
“My co-worker Eileen died suddenly. Cardiac arrest. I wanted to see what they wrote about her,” replied Maeve.
Molly looked through the obit page. “Let’s see what it says . . .
“Eileen Delaney passed away on . . . at her home aged 68. She will be greatly missed by her family who adored her, friends who loved her, and many people whose lives she impacted in such a beautiful way at Evercrest Nursing Home. Eileen was along-time member of such and such Church. Eileen was born . . . married William Patrick Delaney. . . celebrated a beautiful 42-year marriage. Bill passed away . . . Eileen greatly missed him. She and Bill had many adventures together . . . traveling to Europe and Caribbean and Alaskan cruises. Ballroom dancing and hiking were their favorite pastimes. They are survived by two children . . . three grandchildren. Sadly missed by brothers . . . brothers-in-law, sisters-in-law, aunts, uncles, cousins, nephews, nieces, relatives and a wide circle of friends. Eileen stayed active throughout her life . . . she was a member of the American Needlepoint Guild. Eileen Delaney’s’ family invites you to join them in celebrating her life. Please attend with your best Eileen stories. The funeral service and burial will be held . . .
“How long have you been working at that nursing home,” Morren asked Maeve.
“About thirty-five years. Since the divorce.”
“Maeve, you could’ve gone on to get your doctorate in nursing like me,” Molly said. “Then you could write papers, have them peer reviewed, and published in journals. You would be recognized for your work, make better money, and move out of this trailer park.”
“Recognized?” Maeve replied. “I see myself doing what I’m doing. I don’t see myself doing anything else or living anywhere else.”
“Maybe not. But do you hate life? Morren badgered. “I mean, c’mon, you haven’t remarried and you haven’t gone anywhere and now you’re thinking about death. What about life?”
Maisie spoke up. “Aunt Maeve, do you have a bucket list?”
“A bucket list?” Maeve got up and walked over to the kitchen window and looked out. She was surprised to see her neighbor looking back at her from his kitchen window. How strange, she thought.
“Yeah, you know, things you want to do before you die.” Molly said.
“I had an appointment with a funeral director yesterday to talk about funeral arrangements,” Maeve pointed at her sisters, “so you two won’t have to bother with them – and I have an appointment with Father Flannery tomorrow after work to talk about the art of dying.” Maeve took the Joyce Funeral Home brochure out of her purse and placed it on the table.
“What brought on all this morbidity Maeve?” Molly prodded. “Is it because you are with the dying five six days a week? What about living a little?”
“It’s not morbid to plan one’s death. And besides,” Maeve smiled, “I am thinking outside the box.”
“Not too would be a grave mistake,” Molly came back.
“The funeral director blamed the cost of living as driving up the cost of dying. He said I could pay now or pay later with a payable-on-death bank account accessed by my family.” Maeve sat down and waited for a reaction.
Morren looked at Molly and then at Maisie. She wasn’t sure if that was a joke.
Maisie laughed. “Now I know where I get my weird sense of humor. Aunt Maeve, I meant doing things like travel. You could. . . go see the world, see the pyramids.”
“You want me to go look at tombs? No, thanks. And no, I don’t have a list like that.”
“You could go to Barcelona or Rome and meet some dashing foreigner and be swept off your feet.” Molly urged.
“You know,” Maeve replied. “I listen to the stories of seniors in the home. Their stories are better than romance novels and what’s on TV. The things they’ve seen and done . . . you’d be surprised.”
“I just want to see you broaden your horizons,” Morren pleaded. “You have work. You have a hobby. But with all that that the world has to offer, why not live a little.”
Molly looked at her watch. “Well, Maevy, we came to check on you. My TV program starts in twenty minutes. We better get going. If you suddenly decide to take off to parts unknown let us know.”
Maeve picked up the coffee cups and put them in the sink. She saw her neighbor again standing in the window. But this time he had a gun in his mouth. Maeve yelled “Oh God!” and ran out the door. Molly, Morren and Maisie ran to the kitchen window.
“What’s that creature doing?” Molly scoffed. “If he offed himself there would be one less freak in the world.”
“What’s aunt Maeve doing?” asked Maisie.
Maeve was standing in the rain between the two mobile homes in her blue nurse scrubs. She was saying something to her neighbor but his window was closed. He kept shaking his head. Maeve pleaded with him, “Open your window! Open your window!” Finally, with one hand, he pulled up the kitchen window.
“Talk to me, “Maeve begged, “I’m listening.”
The man took a swig of something and then wiped his mouth with his arm.
“Lady, my best girl died in January been together for fifteen years she was on dialysis my dog Biscuit hell I think some of those mean kids around here ran off with her I lost my job at the steel mill I’m about to lose my trailer.” The man held up a piece of paper. “I find myself in the impossible position of being who I am right here and now.”
“I’m listening,” Maeve replied.
“What are you looking at?” The man jerked his head angrily toward Maeve’s kitchen window where Molly, Morren and Maisie were watching. He waved his gun at the window and the three women disappeared from it. Molly called the police.
“I’m here . . . for you,” Maeve pleaded with her neighbor. “I don’t know your name. What’s your name?
“Esau.”
“Esau, don’t die like this.”
“Is there a better way to go about it?
“You could die holding someone’s hand. Can I call Father Flannery?”
“What’s he gonna do throw holy water on me and make it all better hell I was baptized as a little tiny baby and look at me now I done some stupid things in my life but I paid all my debts I am good people labeled not good enough to attend my own daughter’s wedding can you picture that?
“Yes! I can paint you,” Maeve offered.
Esau laughed. “Paint me?”
“Yes. I paint portraits.”
“Lady don’t you see I’m already painted.” The man pulled off his tee shirt. “My cross hain’t bleeding like yours is I got this in Nam.” The man pointed the gun at the cross tattoo. “I got a lot of things in Nam that’ll change a man forever.” He put the gun back in his mouth.
Maeve dabbed her face with her sleeve. Overhead, the sky was growing darker. A sudden crack of thunder and its rumbling off had Duffy howling. Large drops of rain were falling.
“I’ll paint a portrait of you, right now Esau. So your children can remember you.” Maeve said this to buy more time.
“Lady, they want nothing to do with me.” Esau scowled.
“They never will if you shoot yourself,” Maeve replied.
He took another swig from the bottle. “You’ll stand in the rain and you’ll paint me?”
“Yes! Or inside if you’ll let me in.” Maeve replied. “Do you have family?”
“Yessss I havvvvve family,” the man howled. “My best girl has family but you know NO ONE wants to see you until you’re dead.” He put the gun back in his mouth.
“I can call them. Hold on. I can paint your portrait for them. Hold on Esau,” Maeve yelled. “I’ll get my phone and paints.”
As Maeve turned to run back inside, she heard a loud pop. Esau was gone from the window.
Moments later, heavy downpours arrived.
©Lena Johnson, Kingdom Venturers, 2024, All Rights Reserved
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Not Heard, Herded
January 21, 2024 Leave a comment
“We whip the groaning masses … towards a theoretical future happiness, which only we can see.”
– Rubashov, a functionary of the Communist Party in Darkness at Noon by Arthur Koestler
“Rebuilding Trust” – the theme of this year’s World Economic Forum annual meeting in Davos Switzerland.
The mission of the “international” WEF, as the link states, involves “public-private cooperation” by engaging “the foremost political, business, cultural and other leaders of society to shape global, regional and industry agendas”. Sounds rather benign, so far.
To advance its “agendas”, the WEF needs the buy-in of the rich, the powerful, and the celebrated:
As we face an increasingly fractured and polarised world, this year’s World Economic Forum summit will look at ways of rebuilding and strengthening trust amongst global stakeholders.
But what about the trust between the global stakeholders and the common man? This was brought up by the CEO of Allianz.
Leaders speaking the truth would be a great start. But someone saying “I have to invest hundreds of billions in transforming our economy” is a non-starter for the common man who is to foot the bill for WEF “agendas”. And, our well-functioning economy won’t survive DEI, Degrowth and a lot of tinkering.
What I hear this guy saying: “the common man should know how he will be exploited for the cost of future WEF projects as if he was all in in their determination.
Behind the façade of benign WEF is malign WEF. The organization that presents itself as an instrument of deliverance is actually an instrument of totalitarianism. The WEF, while working to “Rebuild Trust” amongst global stakeholders, is intent on destroying trust in anything besides itself – the elites in cahoots.
From The People’s Voice:
The World Economic Forum has declared that anybody who promotes a “different perception of reality” and questions the authority of “experts” should be considered “more dangerous” than a terrorist in 2024. [sounds like Dictator Biden’s J6 speech: “We must be absolutely clear about what is true and what is a lie.”]
The danger for the global elite, according to [WEF managing director Saadia] Zahidi, lies in the fact that non-authorized views are capable of encouraging “different perceptions of reality” which can encourage people to question whether the mainstream media and global elite are telling the truth.
[non-authorized views? Tyranny? Anyone?]
“If some of those views start spilling over into very different perceptions of reality, when it comes to health, when it comes to what people are thinking about education, what people think about specific people, who then becomes the owner of the truth? “
For the WEF to be the sole owner of truth – The party is never wrong! – digital technology has been and will continue to be deployed to monitor content (via smartphones, online social media, and digital devices in your home and car) and circumscribe all aspects of one’s life (via social credit scoring and CBDC) so as to crush “misinformation”.
Did you know that information warriors are engaged in the act of shutting down dissent. . .
Per the Centre for Research on Globalization:
“At the height of the pandemic, the United Nations recruited over 100,000 “digital first responders’ to push the establishment narrative on COVID via social media.
“The revelation actually slipped out in October 2020 during a World Economic Forum podcast called ‘Seeking a cure for the infodemic’, although it is only going viral on Twitter today.
“In the podcast, Melissa Fleming, head of global communications for the United Nations, explains how the COVID pandemic and lockdowns created a “communications crisis” in addition to a public health emergency.
“Fleming acknowledged that in order to fight so-called “misinformation” about the pandemic, the UN tapped up 110,000 people to amplify their messaging across social media.
““So far, we’ve recruited 110,000 information volunteers, and we equip these information volunteers with the kind of knowledge about how misinformation spreads and ask them to serve as kind of ‘digital first-responders’ in those spaces where misinformation travels,” Fleming stated.
“That was nearly 2 years ago. It is not known how many ‘digital first responders’ have been recruited up to this point.”
You can listen to the WEF podcast in question here.
And so it is, the WEF in concert with the UN and the WHO, mankind’s Nemesis triumvirate, will enact its inescapable ‘divine’ retribution against those committing hybris or insolence towards them. For, we are to believe, the world needs the “owners of truth” to shape global, regional and industry agendas to make them instruments of deliverance from all that ails the world, so help themselves.
“Whip the groaning masses towards . . . a theoretical future happiness, which only we[f] can see”?
Not heard, herded?
Tell me. Does one “Rebuild Trust” by censoring voices? Doesn’t rebuilding trust involve hearing each other out? Doesn’t rebuilding trust involve embrace and not exclusion?
Speak out against the WEF madness!
~~~~~
Regarding the quote at the top:
The main character of Darkness at Noon, Nicholas Salmanovitch Rubashov, was at one time a “Commissar of the People” but he fell out of favor. He wasn’t discreet. He talked to his friends concerning his doubts about the effectiveness and correctness of certain Party policies. He is imprisoned and subsequently put on trial.
In Darkness at Noon, The Second Hearing: 7 we learn:
Rubashov is contemplating the suffering of the masses deliberately caused by the Party and its methods of control. He questions these draconian and inhumane actions because they are based only on a theoretical notion of the future. The Party thinks it can see the future it is whipping the masses toward, but in fact it can’t possibly know what future its actions will create.
The Party line is that the suffering of the masses will be compensated by future happiness. But, again, this happiness is purely notional and may never come about. Still the Party imposes pain on the people in the name of this unknown, hypothetical future.
“Darkness at Noon” by Arthur Koestler | A Podcast Summary of Classic Novels (youtube.com)
Interesting to note:
Ray Bradbury’s Fahrenheit 451 was influenced by Darkness at Noon, as Jonathon R. Eller writes in his essay The Story of Fahrenheit 451 in the 60th Anniversary Edition of the book:
Bradbury was initially inspired by Arthur Koestler’s riveting exposé of Stalin’s political terrors and finally motivated to write by the emerging climate of fear during the early years of the Cold War. His hatred of all totalitarian regimes came into sharp focus in his “Day After Tomorrow” essay, published in The Nation just as he was about to finish the final draft of Fahrenheit 451: Consider the similarity of two books—Koestler’s “Darkness at Noon,” laid in our recent past, and George Orwell’s “1984,” set in our immediate future. And here we are, poised between the two, between a dreadful reality and an unformed terror, trying to make such decisions as will avoid the tyranny of the very far right and the tyranny of the very far left, the two of which can often be seen coalescing into a tyranny pure and simple, with no qualifying adjective in front of it at all.
Seems to me, based on the suppression of dissent, the use of legal forums for political purposes – “lawfare”, and the central planning going on, that the Biden regime, the Uniparty, big tech, the WEF, the UN, and the WHO are coalescing into a tyranny pure and simple, with no qualifying adjective in front of it at all.
Biden calling Americans “extremist” for their objections to the above and to the direction their country is being taken is tyranny.
Lawfare seeking to keep Trump off the ballot and from being elected president is not “saving Democracy”. It is the opposite – tyranny.
Arresting J6ers and giving them horrific sentences and prison conditions for a made-up “insurrection” are draconian and inhumane actions. This injustice, highlighted by a J6 show trial, was meant to instill fear and to silence protest in Americans. Do not be silent about the injustice done to J6ers and the tyranny pure and simple it represents.
Ashli Babbitt was murdered that day.
Time for Truth and Accountability J6 Committee (declassified.live)
During COVID, voices opposing “the science” were censored. They were not to be heard. For, people were to be herded in one direction – toward big pharma.
The voice of millions was stolen during the 2020 election. For, “Democracy!” was to be herded in one direction – toward the OBiden regime and tyranny.
Isn’t ironic that while the Left is subverting systems of power in the name of social justice, critical race theory, and whatever so as to be liberated, they are creating a top-down monolithic power that will enslave them.
All one has to do to go along with the coalescing tyranny: remain isolated, remain silent and remain dependent on the state media.
Think local, not global.
~~~~~
Mattias Desmet / Tucker Carlson – MASS FORMATION PSYCHOSIS [Mirror] (youtube.com)
~~~~~
Not everyone is ready to turn over their lives to a totalitarian movement masking itself as an instrument of deliverance from inequality, poverty, sickness, and manufactured crises, e.g., “the climate crisis”.
President of Argentina Javier Milei demolishes socialism in front of a bunch of socialists at the World Economic Forum.
“I’m here to tell you that the western world is in danger and it is endangered because those who are supposed to have to defend the values of the West are co-opted by a vision of the world that inextricably leads to socialism and thereby to poverty.”
“Unfortunately, in recent decades, motivated by some well-meaning individuals willing to help others and others motivated by the wish to belong to a privileged caste.”
“The main leaders of the Western world have abandoned the model of freedom for different versions of what we call collectivism. We are here to tell you that collectivist experiments are never the solution to the problems that afflict the citizens of the world. Rather, they are the root cause.”
Javier Milei slams the west for ‘abandoning freedom for socialism’ in Davos (bitchute.com)
Sweden Scraps Agenda 2030 Goals – The People’s Voice (thepeoplesvoice.tv)
~~~~~
In a society where so many feel unseen and unknown, how do we become the kind of people who deeply see and know those around us? The conflict and division in our society demonstrate the need for people committed to pursuing human connection, even across lines of difference. What can we do – as individuals and in community – that will help us really understand the people in our lives?
In this podcast, David Brooks, discusses his book How to Know a Person: The Art of Seeing Others Deeply and Being Deeply Seen. What do you think?
Episode 67 | How to Know a Person with David Brooks | The Trinity Forum (ttf.org)
~~~~~
DAVOS Watch:
Davos Elite’s Vision Of Your Future | Davos Watch Ep. 1 (youtube.com)
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Filed under 2024 Current Events, Political Commentary, totalitarianism, WEF, WHO Tagged with Biden, censorship, Darkness at Noon, Davos, Globalism, Klaus Schwab, totalitarianism, tyranny, World Economic Forum