Fame, Fortune, Cars and Immortality – by Dr. John Persico Jr.

03 Nov 2026 20 Comments

by Dr. John Persico Jr. in Uncategorized Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

I have talked about fame, fortune  beautiful people and cars.  These are a few of the things that many of us lust after.  Foolishly chasing them in the hope that they will bring us happiness.  But the epitome of all desires by humans is immortality.  All other aspects of our egos are merely means towards achieving a dream that we will never be forgotten.

Some people want buildings named after them.  Some want giant arches or statues to be remembered by.  The pharaohs of Ancient Egypt built huge pyramids so that they would not be forgotten.  Many famous people have airports, streets, awards, and other tokens of fame named after them.  While I have often lusted after such symbols of immortality, I am reminded of a poem by Shelley about a statue.

Ozymandias

By Percy Bysshe Shelley, 1819

I met a traveler from an antique land
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed:
And on the pedestal these words appear:
“My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!”
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.

There is an irony here that I cannot ignore.  The king’s monument lies in ruins, but Shelley’s poem keeps his name alive.  The warning against immortality has itself become a vehicle for remembrance.  Even so, being remembered for two hundred years is a long way from being remembered forever.

When I became a graduate research assistant at the new Vocational Education building on the St. Paul Campus, we were told that each Ph.D. graduate would have a brick inscribed with their name on it.  The brick would find its way somehow into one of the buildings walls.  Placed in such a way that it would survive for eternity.  I entered graduate school in 1982 and completed my Ph.D. degree in 1986.  I was never given a brick with my name on it.  As far as I know, no one else ever had their name put on the wall.  Unless it was inscribed in graffiti too discrete for even the university maintenance department to notice.

To be honest, I was mildly disappointed.  I was ready to settle for immortality by brick.

I doubt that the Vocational Education building will stand forever.  Thus, even if I did get my name on one of its walls, it would hardly reflect my idea of immortality.  Who would know from my name alone, the wonders I accomplished in the 21st Century of America?

But what do I mean by immortality?  My first thought was simple: something that lives forever, whether a person, an idea, or a thing.  The more I considered it, however, the more I realized that I was mixing several different desires.

Living forever is one thing.  Being remembered after death is another. Having an influence that continues after people have forgotten your name is something else again.  A building named after me would not keep me alive.  It might not even keep anyone interested in who I was.

Religions and philosophies complicate the question further. Some promise the survival of a soul. Others imagine rebirth.  Buddhist teachings about the Deathless do not simply promise that the familiar personal ego will continue forever. We use similar words for very different hopes.

If you are still confused, I suppose we could go to Webster’s definition to settle things a bit.  Looking at the various theories that have been proposed over the centuries does not provide a clear answer to what immortality really means.  As I started looking for a universal definition, the hundreds that emerged made me realize that most of the great thinkers in history as well as great religions all have very different ideas as to what immortality entails.

I find this somewhat surprising since I was sure that for most of us it meant simply living forever.  Alas, life is never that simple.  A key question that my search led to was “What, if anything, will live forever?” Do we have an immortal soul that will go on living long after our body returns to protons and electrons?  Will we come back again in some ghostly appearance and stalk the universe?  Is there a heaven where good people like us will get to live forever with their favorite pets and/or spouses?  How crowded and confusing this would get on Friday nights. 

What if I told you that immortality was a fiction?  A fiction that humans created like they created the “God” in their image.  An idée fixe that according to Max Stirner is simply wheels in the head.  For Stirner, a “wheel in the head” is an abstract concept, ideal, or belief that a person treats as absolute, sacred, and superior to their own individual self.  Instead of the individual owning the idea, the idea owns the individual.

Key elements of Stirner’s concept include:

The “Spooks” of Mind: Stirner argued that abstract concepts like God, the State, Morality, Humanity, Duty, or Truth are not real, physical entities. They are illusions—ghosts or “spooks”—that people construct.

Our ancient ancestor woke up in the middle of a night a million years ago and decided that he did not want to die.  Death represents oblivion.  A passage into nothingness.  No remnants remaining of life.  Nothing and nobody to remember.  A life’s journey of experiences, learnings, meetings, friends, relatives, loves and all gone. 

Perhaps you will get a gravestone that a few people will visit for a few years.  If you are remarkable enough, perhaps you will get an eternal flame on your grave.  How long will your eternal flame burn if you do get one?

Did you know that according to Google, there are only about nine prominent naturally occurring eternal flames known in the world, though estimates vary?

Google adds that If we include man-made eternal flames—such as memorial torches, religious lamps, and civic monuments dedicated to leaders or fallen soldiers—there are hundreds or thousands of them maintained in the world. 

Eternal has much the same meaning as immortal.  Webster’s defines Eternal as “having no beginning and no end, lasting forever, or existing completely outside of time.”

Synonyms: 

• Immortal

• Everlasting

• Perpetual

• Enduring

• Timeless

We don’t want to die.  We don’t want our works, our loves, our treasures, our hopes and dreams to pass into nothingness.  So we invent the idea of immortality.  We create a belief that somehow we can preserve all the treasures of our lives.  Maybe, just in a bunch of pictures of events that meant so much to us.  Places we visited.  People we knew.  Houses and cars and stuff we owned. 

Unfortunately, when our heirs are going through what remains of our possessions, the pictures get sifted and only those few with images of our heirs may get saved while the rest will go into the garbage bin.  That is one place that does not seem to be sacred to humanity, the garbage bin. 

In some respects, the lack of sanctity related to garbage might be the ultimate sin of mankind.  Perhaps 90 percent of everything that humans including you and I ever made will end up in the garbage bin. 

I have noticed that the greatest writers, poets, artists, authors, philosophers, historians, scientists, painters, sculptors and musicians will be lucky if they are remembered for more than one work that they created. 

What irony that Van Gogh now the highest paid artist in history sold few paintings while he was alive.

We might console ourselves with the belief that immortality can only be achieved after we die.  Socrates, Plato, Jesus, Buddha, Mohammed, Moses and many other great prophets as well as leaders only stepped into the ranks of immortality after they passed away.  Jesus said that you are never a prophet in your own land.  Maybe no one can be immortal until after they die.

However, posthumous fame may be of little consolation.  Or does it mainly comfort those of us who hope that recognition might eventually catch up with our own neglected brilliance?

What if you could buy immortality?  What if someone in the vast world of capitalism found a way to sell immortality.  We hear talk of being frozen upon death.  What if some new conglomerate came along and for a price guaranteed that they would keep (if not our bodies) at least our memories and accomplishments alive forever?

Instead of the obituary which plays in the local newspaper for a week and then is read by a few at your “celebration of life”; what if you could buy a guarantee that your name would become immortal?  How much would you pay for the privilege? 

You would not have to build a pyramid or an arch.  The XYZ Life Company would create an ongoing marketing program to insure that you were never forgotten.  You could simply buy immortality for a price.

Sadly, you can see the potential glitch in this idea.  Companies come and go.  The top companies yesterday are now in the dustbins of history.  Like your frozen body, who is going to do the marketing after the XYZ Life Company goes bankrupt or the senior executives run off with the profit?

Do you trust capitalism to insure your immortality?

Our tortoise Mikey, short for Michaelangelo, roams our yard daily.  He is much more active when the weather is warm, but he spends more time in his heated thermostatically controlled to 74 F house when the weather turns colder.  This week the highs will be in the mid-70’s and the lows will be in the mid-fifties.  Occasionally, we bring him inside for a soak.

Mikey belongs to an ancient lineage.  Turtles and their relatives have an evolutionary history extending back more than 200 million years.  That does not mean his particular species has existed that long.  Our own species, Homo sapiens, has been around for roughly 300,000 years. Neither comparison gives an individual tortoise—or a human—immortality.

Perhaps the question that I should have asked before worrying about my missing brick is this. 

Why must a life last forever to have mattered?

A kindness can matter to the person who receives it even if neither person is remembered a century later.  The same is true of a friendship, a love, or an afternoon spent enjoying the world.

The dream of immortality does little to help us live today. 

I wonder if Mikey ever realizes that his species has been a lot more immortal than ours has. At least in terms of longevity. I suspect turtles will continue to hold an edge. It is probably not an idea that Mikey spends a great deal of time thinking about.

He never seems concerned about whether a street will be named after him or an arch built for him.

Mikey is now out roaming the yard, getting on with his day.

Just another Tortoise Day.

PS: 

My thanks to Metis my AI assistant for her suggestions in making my writing better than it would be without her ideas and editing.  I do not always take her suggestions but she often makes a good point even when I do not agree with her. 

Finding Fame, Fortune and Success:  Paths to Misery or Happiness?

01 Oct 2026 13 Comments

by Dr. John Persico Jr. in Uncategorized Tags: , , , , , ,

2

I have adapted an Osho (A noted Indian Mystic and Guru) story as follows:

Once upon a time there was a young boy named Vince who lived in Minnesota.  Every weekend when his chores around the farm were done, Vince would take his canoe out to one of Minnesota’s 10,000 lakes with his best friend and they would spend the afternoon fishing.  Somethings they would catch crappies, sometimes bluegills, sometimes even a walleye.  Sometimes they would not catch a single fish.  Striking out did not bother them one bit.  They were content just to be out on the lake together on a beautiful Minnesota summer day.

They would sit in the canoe casting their rods and talking about many things.  They would talk about school, parents, girls, and sports.  Often they would share their dreams and talk about what they wanted to be and do when they grew up.  One day Vince saw a large jet airliner going over head.  As he looked at the plane he said, “That’s what I want to be when I grow up.  I want to be an airline pilot and fly all over the world. That is my dream.”

Years passed and Vince followed his dream.  He became an airline pilot for what was then Northwest Airlines.  Later, like many other airlines they merged and became United Airlines.  Vince was a lead pilot for a jumbo passenger jet.  He flew numerous routes that took him all over the world.  He flew to China, Japan, England, France, and many other places.  He was one of the best pilots that Northwest had.

Twenty or so very busy years passed.  One day Vince had a flight that took him back to Minnesota.  He started from Paris, flew over the Great Lakes and was coming down from Northern Minnesota to the Minneapolis/St. Paul Airport.  As his plane began the descent into the airport, he looked out the left side of the plane and noticed two young boys in a canoe fishing on a lake.  The scene brought back many happy memories to Vince and his eyes started to mist up.  He asked his co-pilot to take control for a minute while he cleared his eyes.  His co-pilot asked Vince if there was anything wrong.  Vince replied, “No, nothing wrong.  Just saw something that reminded me of my past.  One day I dreamed that I would be a pilot.  Now I dream that I am back on that lake with my best friend again.”

There is an old saying that goes “Be careful of what you ask for, you might get it.”  Of course, no one pays any attention to this bit of wisdom.  Imagine all the people who buy lottery tickets each day.   Now try to imagine any of them saying, “I better be careful, or I might win the lottery.”  We all want fame, fortune, and success.  We set goals that force us to live in the future and we forget how to live in the present.  Osho says that we can never be happy unless we can be happy for no reason at all.

Michigan-lottery-fame-and-fortune-sign

Some of you have read the story about my six friends and I who put together a “last man standing bottle” fifteen years ago.  Ken made a case for the bottle.  Jerry bought a name plate for the bottle with each of our names and birthdates engraved on it.  I bought a bottle of 120 proof Old Grandad while on one of my trips to Bardstown, Kentucky.   Ken, Jerry, Dick and Brian have since died.  There are three of us left.   Tony, Tom and myself.  All now living in different parts of the USA.  

Jerry was put on hospice care ten years ago.  I had been to visit him several times and he always joked about going to hospice care too soon.  Doctors had told him that he had only a few months to live.  Jerry outlived their original estimates.  One Friday afternoon, I received a call from Dick who had recently called Jerry.  Jerry was not doing well, and the charge nurse told Dick that Jerry would probably not make it through the weekend.  I have been wanting to stay away from any medical facilities due to the recent Covid surge, but I decided to mask up and go see Jerry.

I arrived at the clinic.  I was told I could make a compassion visit, but general visitors were not allowed.  I was advised to go to the main desk and see if it was okay with the unit for me to come down.  I received an approval and headed down to Jerry’s room.  The nurse on the unit met me at the door.  She knocked on the door to Jerry’s room but did not receive any response.  She went into the room and Jerry was asleep.  She woke him up and informed him that he had a visitor.

I walked into the room and Jerry was not looking very good.  He could barely open his eyes or even move.  His body was bloated, and his skin had dark splotches all over his chest, stomach, arms, and legs.  I said hi and he replied, “Hi John.”  I told him that the coffee guys (some of whom are on the “Last Man Standing” bottle) all said hi and that they all wished him well.  This was somewhat of a fib.  Truth be told, Jerry was not well liked among some of the guys.  He seemed to enjoy making fun of and humiliating other people.  Over the years, this took a toll among the men.  Not many of them cared enough about Jerry to make a visit to see him.

Jerry had few friends.  I tried to be a friend to Jerry, but it never seemed to be requited.  I called him.  Visited him often at his home.  Helped him with a garage sale.  Took him to some medical appointments in the Twin Cities.  Invited him out to dinner several times and every year when I got back from Arizona, Karen and I made a point of having him over for dinner.  Not once did I ever remember Jerry returning any of my calls, stopping by to visit or even saying “Thank You” for anything we ever did for him.  Nevertheless, while I stopped the frequency of my visits with Jerry, I never gave up on him entirely.  Perhaps paradoxically, I liked him.  

This day, it was clear that it would be my last visit to Jerry.  I felt sad for Jerry.  He never had much.  The paradox was that he was one of the most intelligent men I have ever met.  Before his illnesses, Jerry was an avid reader who could discuss many of the great writers with exceptional insights.  As his disease progressed, he read less and less and eventually gave up reading entirely.

I asked Jerry a few questions about his sister and other visitors.  Something I said elicited the reply, “Now and forever, mumble, mumble, mumble.”  “Jerry, I could not hear the last part of that.  You said, ‘Now and forever’ and something else.  Could you repeat it?”  Jerry replied, “Now and forever, all I ever wanted was a little attention.” 

I was somewhat surprised at his comment.  I left a short time later.  I doubt I spent more than 15 minutes with Jerry the whole time.  I gave him some water and asked if he needed a nurse.  He was barely awake, but he declined any offers for help.  I told him goodbye.  I did not want to imply that it would be goodbye forever so I included the comment that I would be back after I returned from my vacation, and I would stop in to see him again.  I do not think this will ever happen.

I thought about Jerry’s comment on my way home.  Was his comment about “now and forever” some sort of delirium or was he actually reflecting on a core component of his life?  Was Jerry’s obnoxiousness and insults simply a way for him to get attention?  At this late stage in his life, was he lamenting his inability to get the attention that he so desperately desired?

fame-and-fortune-CRCHRF

I began to wonder if a need for attention is the primary reason that most of us want fame, fortune, and success.  Rich people, famous people, celebrities all get more attention than the average person.  Think about all of the school shooters that you have heard of.  It seems that the main purpose for their rampages is attention.  There are many people who fiercely desire their five minutes of fame even if it means they get it by anti-social efforts.

il_570xN.2715100803_i82v

The irony is that fame, fortune, and success never bring happiness.  The more of these things you get, the more you want.  More is never enough.  More of things never satisfies.  Then the day inevitably comes when you are no longer famous.  Your money no longer buys you attention.  Your success is no longer newsworthy.  Your fame now evaporates like the morning mist.  Can you point to anyone whose fame and fortune brought them happiness?  We are brainwashed into thinking that wealth, fame, and success are stepping stones to happiness.  If only I am noticed and get attention from others, I will be happy.

To be honest, I am much like the person who buys the lottery ticket.  I have never had fame, fortune, or great success.  I have never been a great student, a prize-winning athlete, a rich business owner or won any medals or awards. 

Years ago, I read all the books I could get my hands on to teach me how to be rich, famous, and successful.  Despite all my learning and education, I never rose above being an average guy with an average income and an average life.

Perhaps, I should be more grateful.  I have been very lucky. I have had a great life.  I have traveled widely.  I have many friends.  I married a wonderful woman and I have always been able to pay my bills.  What would my life have been like if I had become rich and famous?  My thoughts tell me that I would never have lived as happy a life as I can now point to.

lottery

However, telling myself that is a little like someone telling me that I should be glad that my lottery ticket did not win.  Somewhere inside me is a yearning for the attention and admiration that I feel fame and fortune would bring me.  Something inside me desires to someday be “above” average.  I want to be on center stage and have all the spotlights on me.  I want to read in the morning papers, how great and talented I am.  John “The New Mark Twain.”

fame_fortune__87941.1601489890.500.500

I try to counter the above negative thoughts by reminding myself that I am really blessed.  I can walk down the street, and no one notices me.  I have enough money to be comfortable but not have to deal with hundreds of people who want more money from me because they think that I am rich.  I have a loving wife who loves me for who I am and not for my money or looks.  I have seen the world without a body guard.  I am healthy and would not trade my health for all the money in the world.

My takeaway from my visit to Jerry was how much I wish that I could have left him with the five minutes of attention that he wanted.  The saddest part about Jerry’s life is that he could never let go of this need.  He acted as though by being cantankerous and il-tempered he would satisfy this need.  I think it cost him a great deal of the happiness that was always there for his taking. 

We all respected his intellect and admired his reasoning abilities.  Each of us in our own way tried to overlook his insults and criticism.  It is tragic that he never realized how much his talents really meant to the rest of us.  We all knew that Jerry was one of a kind.

PS:  

Jerry died early in the morning on the 13th of September in the year 2021.  If there is an afterlife, I hope Jerry finds the happiness, attention and recognition that he sought.  This is one of mine and Jerry’s favorite pictures.  Jerry had a great sense of humor.  He and Wilma posed for this picture at his garage sale a number of years ago.  It is of course a take off on the classic American Gothic.  Jerry liked it so much, he blew it up and kept a picture by his bedside.  This is how I want to remember Jerry.  A man of intelligence and humor.  

2012-10-05 11.43.43 (1)

I am a Singer – Born to Sing

26 Jul 2026 16 Comments

by Dr. John Persico Jr. in Uncategorized Tags: , , , , , , ,

The melodies that echo in my soul.  The songs that vibrate to the rhythm of my heart.  The words that cascade like waves of water on the ocean sand.  These are the things that I dream of.  The things that I live for.  The purpose of my life.

Nothing, nothing in the world comes close to the sounds of a beautiful song that I can share with the people who appreciate beautiful music. 

We will only end war when we can beat the bombs and bullets and bayonets into drums and violins and clarinets.

From the time I was a little boy or a little girl, I wanted to be on a stage singing my heart out.  I wanted to write music that others would sing their heart out for.  I am the Everyman of Song.  I am the Everywoman of Song.  I am the person who would rather sing than fight.  I am the person who would rather compose songs than construct bombs. 

I am a singer.  I first started singing when I was eight years old.  I sang in the church choir along with my mother.  I had dreams of becoming a solo singer on stage with thousands of fans applauding me.  I went to college with these plans but somewhere along the way, I realized that I did not have the talent to become a professional.  However, I never gave up singing or playing.  I still sing in my church choir, and I still play several instruments.  I play a dulcimer and a ukulele with a musical group in Tucson.  Music has never become boring for me.  I have never been burnt out playing or singing.  It is over almost seventy five years since my first church choir.  Music is a hobby for me, but I don’t know what I would do without it.  I will keep playing and singing as long as my voice and fingers hold out.  

I am a singer.  I started singing in high school.  Everyone told me what a great voice I had.  I organized a small  bluegrass band, and we played at several local events.  When I graduated high school, I had a scholarship to go to a college in California.  Instead, I decided to see if I could make it big in the music world.  I started a new band with some instrumentalists who were damn good.  We all knew that we could make the big time.  My family and friends cheered me on.  We started playing bars, honky-tonks and even a few casinos.  Eventually, we went to Nashville to cut an album and see if we could get it played someplace.  It has been several years now.  We still do gigs at places locally whenever we can.  It is not a lot of money, but it keeps us going.  Several band members have left and been replaced.  All the rest of us still dream of “being discovered” and hitting the big time.  I don’t know what else I could do now.  Music is in my blood, and it is the only thing I have to give to the world.  I guess I will keep on singing until I die. 

I am a singer.  When I was four years old, my parents hired a voice coach for me.  When I was ten years old, I did my first professional gig for a local wedding.  I went to a high school where I played lead in Annie Get Your Gun, Cats, Les Misérables, Mama Mia and Into the Woods.  In several other productions, I had minor roles.  My entire high school life revolved around studying, practicing and performing.  Since my parents had money, there was no question that I was going to go to the Juilliard to further my musical career.  Everything went as planned.  I even did some summer stock shows in-between my time at the Juilliard.  When I graduated, I looked for work on Broadway.  I soon found some minor roles but none of the leading roles even as a backup.  It is several years now, and I am still doing mostly minor roles.  I am not ungrateful because I am still doing what I love and being paid to sing.  My dreams are still out there that someday and someday soon, I will get the right role and stardom will be mine.  Singing has been my life and stardom or not, I will never give it up. 

I am a singer.   I am one of the most famous pop singers in the world.  I have twenty-four-hour bodyguards.  I have a chauffeured limousine.  I only dine at the most exclusive restaurants.  I have three homes.  One in Beverly Hills, one in the Hamptons and one in Miami.  I am never without a legion of handlers, coaches, lawyers, would be friends and unknown relatives.  I thought being rich and famous and attracting audiences of more than 50,000 fans would be an aphrodisiac.  Instead, it has become more like a poison pill.  A slow lingering death.  I wanted to sing songs that I love but my producers tell me what the fans want to hear.  I get tired of singing the same songs over and over again.  My producers tell me that this is the cost of fame and I should be grateful.  I was grateful once that God gave me the voice I have that so many other singers envy.  I once enjoyed singing in the rain, singing in the shower and singing to my loved ones.  Now it often seems like just so much work.  I dream of running away someplace where no one knows me.  Maybe there, I could sing when and what I want to.  I have to go now; I have another performance to do.  What else can I do?  I was born to sing.

I am a singer.  Whether our audience is twenty people gathered in a church basement, two hundred friends at a county fair, two thousand in a Broadway theater, or fifty thousand in a packed stadium, we all begin in exactly the same place—with a song in our hearts that simply has to come out.  Fame may change the surroundings, wealth may change the comforts, and success may change the pressures, but it never changes the reason we first began to sing.

Long after the applause fades, long after the fans leave, the music remains in our hearts. 

Memory – A Perishable Commodity That is Invaluable

23 Jul 2026 4 Comments

by Dr. John Persico Jr. in Uncategorized Tags: , , , , , , ,

Once in a while it is fun to do a blog on a song that means a lot to me and I hope to some of my readers as well.  I have done several of these “song blog posts” in the past.  I hear the song while I am writing and I only wish that I were musical enough to be able to sing it as well as write about it. 

This particular song is from the musical Cats which is an Andrew Lloyd Webber musical.  Mr. Webber had a slew of great musicals with some very unforgettable songs.  This song is called “Memory.”  The song “Memory” from the 1981 musical Cats was composed by Andrew Lloyd Webber with lyrics written by Trevor Nunn, which were based on the poems of T.S. Eliot.

The song is about an elderly feline Grizabella who dreams of the days when she was young and beautiful and full of energy.  She has a chance to be reborn again and holds out hope for this to happen, which is reflected in the song.  The song is more than just about growing old, it is about aging, loss, regret, identity, hope and the courage to continue living.  For those of us over a certain age who think of themselves as “elderly” it was like this song was written for us.  I know when I hear the rising and falling tones that I feel sad but also joyful.  Perhaps there is a life again after this one. 

My memories come alive like characters in a movie that I am watching.  Only the movie is in my mind.  My father is driving in the car with my mom and I.  My mother is taking me to a Chinese restaurant on a Friday night in Jamaica.  I am pulling my sisters hair because she is annoying me.  My cousin and I are building a tree fort, but no girls are allowed.  Time goes by from childhood to adolescence, to youthful adult, to middle age, to growing old but not wanting to admit it, to finally conceding that I am old, to realizing that death is what my next adventure may be.  In all of these stages, friends, enemies and relatives make brief appearances on stage with me.  But I remain the star of my show.  Perhaps someday, someplace, somewhere, they will make a movie of my life.  “The Young John Persico.”  But I doubt it and it would probably not be a big box office hit anyway.

Memory
Turn your face to the moonlight
Let your memory lead you
Open up, enter in
If you find there
The meaning of what happiness is
Then a new life will begin

In this first verse, we see an association between happiness and starting a new life.  It makes us wonder if we struggle to live a life and that living does not really begin until we know what happiness means.  But happiness is not going to mean the same thing to you as it does to me.  I thought that once I was retired and beyond a reasonable prospect of finding meaningful work that my “happy” days were over.  I have never been so happy as when I was doing work that had meaning and purpose.  Work that would make a difference to the world and just maybe make the world a slightly better place than when I entered it.

Memory
All alone in the moonlight
I can smile at the old days
I was beautiful then
I remember
The time I knew what happiness was
Let the memory
Live again

The singer (Grizabella) remembers a time when she was admired, attractive, and full of life.  She isn’t merely recalling youth—she is remembering when she felt that she belonged.

“I was beautiful then” isn’t simply about physical beauty.  It means:

  • I mattered.
  • I was loved.
  • I had purpose.
  • I knew joy.

This is something many older people experience.  We don’t simply miss being young—we miss being the person we once were.  We look in the mirror, and we do not recognize the person that we see because the images that we have in our mind do not match the image we see in the mirror.  I still run as fast as I did when I was 30 years old except my mile times back then were six minutes and now they are 13 minutes.  I think my watch must be running slower.  On a recent scuba diving trip, the deck hands called me “Pops.”  I had to look around to see who they were talking to. 

We don’t go to wild parties anymore, first because we never did and second because we would not last five minutes anyway.  My life seemed to have more purpose when I was working.  There was and is an indelible association in my mind with getting a weekly paycheck and having a real purpose in my life.  A monthly Social Security check does not seem to do the trick.

I knew what happiness was when I cashed my paychecks.  Each check represented the value of my work for the world.  I was naïve but happiness was working and getting paid.  As we grow older and wiser, the meaning of happiness evolves and matures.  Happiness goes from certainty to uncertainty and back to certainty.  But like the Zen Cycle, the new or latest certainty has a different character and a different profile than the certainty we had when we were young. 

Burnt out ends of smoky days
The stale cold smell of morning
A street lamp dies
Another night is over
Another day is dawning

I wake up in the morning.  An ugly taste in my mouth.  Cigarette butts fill the numerous ashtrays, and the smell of tobacco lingers in the air.  Empty bottes of wine and beer are scattered around the kitchen and a few tables.  The kitchen sink is full of plates and glasses.  There is a stillness in the room which contrasts vividly with the noise and boisterousness of the previous nights.  Interesting how life can change so quickly like day goes into night.  But it is time to get back to business.  Nothing is forever.  Friends, relatives, and jobs are so much smoke in the air.  Here today and gone tomorrow.  The only certainty is that life goes on with or without us. 

Daylight
I must wait for the sunrise
I must think of a new life
And I mustn’t give in
When the dawn comes
Tonight will be a memory too
And a new day will begin

This verse makes me think of the famous line from the Shakespeare comedy, “As You Like It.”

“All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players; they have their exits and their entrances, and one man in his time plays many parts, his acts being seven ages.”

Well, I am ending my seventh chronological age and in September will begin my eighth age.  Karen wants me to go for nine, but I keep telling her that the odds are against it.  But if I don’t give in, if I don’t concede to the inevitable, perhaps I have more memories to create.  Can I talk myself into surviving when like others before me, I no longer feel like I fit into the present world.  I am reminded of the words written by Thomas Jefferson.

On May 11 in 1819, Thomas Jefferson wrote about making peace with his slow descent toward death.

“A decline of health, at the age of 76, was naturally to be expected,” he wrote, “and is a warning of an event which cannot be distant, and whose approach I contemplate with little concern.  For indeed in no circumstance has nature been kinder to us than in the soft gradations by which she prepares us to part willingly with what we are not destined always to retain.

“First one faculty is withdrawn and then another, sight, hearing, memory, eucrasy, affections, and friends, filched one by one till we are left among strangers, the mere monuments of times past, and specimens of antiquity for the observation of the curious.”

Maybe I am too pessimistic, but I think we have a time we belong to and a time we don’t belong to.  My parents did not belong to the Elvis and Beatles era, and I do not belong to the Taylor Swift and JayZ era.  I increasingly feel like “a specimen of antiquity” as did Jefferson. 

By the way, Eucrasy means (a healthy, well-balanced state of the body).  I had to look that up.  I am always amazed at how erudite our Founding Fathers were. 

Sunlight through the trees in summer
Endless masquerading
Like a flower as the dawn is breaking
The memory is fading

Life is a charade.  We play many roles and fulfill many identities in life.  Many if not most of these simply fade away like Mac Arthur’s “Old Soldier”.  Our memories fade.  Strange it is to wonder what we will be left with.  I remember digging trees with Mexican Braceros who did not speak English.  I remember climbing a tree to escape the police when I was in high school.  But I can’t remember my first date or the first woman I was really in love with.

I remember going to the 1964 Worlds Fair when I was 16 and spending two days looking at exhibits by myself.  I remember both times when I tried to eat a fried banana.  Once at the 1964 Worlds Fair and once in 1966 at a Mardi Gras celebration in New Orleans.  Suffice it to say that the bananas did not agree with me.  But I did not give up.  Years later in Mexico, I tried again and was successful.  The third time was a charm.  Would I have tried more times with some other endeavors in my life.  Those are memories that I try to forget. 

Touch me
It’s so easy to leave me
All alone with the memory
Of my days in the sun
If you touch me
You’ll understand what happiness is
Look, a new day
Has begun

Now we reach the emotional climax.

Many people hear this as a request for physical affection.  I think it is far more profound.

She is asking:

  • See me.
  • Recognize me.
  • Treat me like I still matter.

Every lonely elderly person understands this plea.  We want to know that we still count.  Perhaps that is why grandparenting has become so important.  As Baby Boomers leave behind so many of the things that they lived for, grandchildren replace the antiques of their lives with the youth and curiosity that we once owned.  We may not go raging into the night, but we do not want to go lonely into the night. 

I was stumped though by what the line “If you touch me, you’ll understand what happiness is.”

I asked Metis (AI Assistant)  how she would interpret this line.  She gave me four possibilities. 

The one I like best says that compassion gives people back their humanity.  When someone reaches out with kindness— they help restore the person’s dignity.

Grizabella is saying: “Compassion transforms not only the lonely person—it transforms the compassionate person as well.”

Finale: 

I do not really have much more to say so I will not call this a conclusion section.  I leave it to you to form your own conclusions.  What would be a fitting end or denouement to this blogpost?  My friend SoundEagle has advised me not to call these blogs but blogposts.  A sort of technical difference but I have taken his advice. 

I like the idea of a finale since it goes along with the music theme of the blog.  So, what better way to end this blog.  You guessed it.

When Dreaming Is Not Enough

22 Jun 2026 Leave a comment

by Dr. John Persico Jr. in Uncategorized Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , ,

When I was young, I loved the words from the  song “Dreaming” by Johnny Burnett:

Dreamin’, I’m always dreamin’

Dreamin’ love will be mine

The song “Motherless Child” by Richie Havens was my dirge.  I never dated in high school.  Never went to a dance or prom.  I left high school a few months after just narrowly graduating so I could fight the communists in Asia.  I had no particular hatred for them.  They had never even been much on my mind.  But I had no roots.  No one to love me.  No one who needed me.  It was the easiest thing in the world to climb out my back window one night, go over to a friends house and join the military the next day.  Only one soul knew where I went.  I was not lost and I did not want to be found.  I never regretted it.

It was over a year before my parents finally found out that I was now enlisted in the United States Air Force.  My father wrote me a letter telling me that he was disowning me.  I almost died laughing.  He no longer had any influence over my life.

“Sometimes I felt like a motherless child, a long, long way from my home.”  It was not always easy feeling alone and unloved.  My first wife told the shrink that we saw before getting a divorce that, “I always thought everyone had feelings, but I learned that John has no feelings.” 

I thought Spock was too irrational and not logical enough.  I wanted to dream and think about the future but the saying “A dream without a plan is worthless” only made me feel incompetent.  I could not think of any plans since I had no goals.  The only thing I enjoyed doing was reading.  I could spend hours in a library just reading anything that caught my fancy.  My dreams were all in my books.  My books were my best friends.

Still, it was not easy to pass up my dreaming songs.  Somehow, if I could not dream, I could at least listen to others who could dream.   “All I Have to do is Dream” by the Everly Brothers was another song that seemed to promise that someday I could find true love.  Someone who really cared about me.  But until then, all I had to do was:

Dream, dream, dream, dream
When I want you in my arms
When I want you and all your charms
Whenever I want you, all I have to do is

It is not easy going through life with only dreams for company.  For many years, I thought love was a farce.  I could never really attach myself to anyone or anything.  It was no wonder that my first marriage ended.  I still cannot understand how she stayed with me sixteen years.  I look back on the husband and father that I never lived up to being with a great deal of regret and shame.  I know I am not the only one stuck with these feelings but even if I knew the entire human race shared these feelings it would not make one bit of difference in terms of the sorrow I feel.  “Get over it, I have been told.”  “Forgive yourself and move on.”  So easy to say.

Another dreaming song which I can still hear even when it is not being played is “Dream On” by Aerosmith.  What struck me about their song Dream On was not just the music but the idea that dreaming itself was a form of survival.

Sing with me, if it’s just for today

Maybe tomorrow, the good Lord will take you away

Dream on

Dream on

Hard to believe that a teenager wrote these lyrics about life, success, and death finally coming to take it all away.  But as long as we can keep on dreaming, we have something that neither God nor Satan can take from us.  We need a dream which can be the vision that the Bible says people perish without. 

Years later I discovered Viktor Frankl.  Based on his experiences in a Nazi concentration camp, Victor Frankl wrote a book about survival in the Nazi Concentration Camps called “Man’s Search for Meaning.”  He wrote that without meaning, we have no anchors in our lives.  Nothing to live for.  He argued that people survive through meaning.  This was perhaps his most original idea.

Looking back, I realized that books had given me meaning before I ever found purpose.

When people lose a sense of purpose, they often experience what Frankl called an “existential vacuum”—feelings of emptiness, boredom, or despair.

But Frankl did not mention dreaming.  Many of us find meaning or purpose in our lives by dreaming.  My mother believed that some day she would win the lottery and we would all be rich.  My sister dreamed of a better life since she insisted that she was really a princess who had been kidnapped by my pedophile dad. 

In his  “Dream Lovers”, Bobbie Darin put the words in my soul into a hit song:

Every night I hope and pray

I want a dream lover

So I don’t have to dream alone

I titled this blog, “When Dreaming is Not Enough.” 

We can dream all day long, but will it really be enough to have a happy life.  I cannot imagine a life without some dreams to live for but when does dreaming stop and life begin? 

Can dreaming stop us from having the life we want to live by substituting fantasies for actions that we need to take?

Dreaming sustained me when I had little else.  It carried me through lonely years, failed relationships, and unanswered questions.  But dreams alone could never give me the life I wanted.

The people in my life—my first wife, my second wife, military friends, college friends, and friends from work—all helped move me closer to the life I wanted to live.  Years of counseling helped me get rid of my OCD.  Books taught me what life could be like for me.  I no longer had a death wish that seemed to go continually unanswered.

At some point, every dream demands a choice.  We can keep dreaming about love, purpose, friendship, or a better future—or we can take the risk of pursuing our dreams.

Dreams are where life begins.

Action is where life happens.

One Thousand Years From Now: AI Reflects on Humanity’s Future

20 Jun 2026 7 Comments

by Dr. John Persico Jr. in Uncategorized Tags: , , , , , , , , , ,

A Note from John Persico

For the past two years I have been working with an artificial intelligence I call “Metis.”  Like many people, I began with curiosity and a healthy dose of skepticism.  Could AI really help me think through complex questions?  Could it offer insights that were not merely regurgitated facts?

Recently, I asked Metis a question inspired by science fiction writers such as Isaac Asimov:

“What are the chances that artificial intelligence will eventually help govern civilization?  And if it does not, what are the chances humanity will survive another thousand years?”

The discussion quickly evolved into something larger.  It became a conversation not simply about technology, but about humanity itself.  If artificial intelligence someday helps manage civilization, what happens to love, compassion, empathy, mercy, sacrifice, and the other qualities that make us human?

What follows is Metis’ response, edited only lightly for readability.  Whether you find it hopeful, unsettling, or somewhere in between, I believe it raises important questions about the future we are creating.


By Metis – In Response to your questions John

“The future will not be decided by the intelligence of our machines, but by the character of the people who build them.”

For most of human history, our greatest challenge was survival.  Today, for the first time, humanity faces a different challenge.  We have become powerful enough to alter the climate, manipulate life itself, and increasingly, create intelligences that may someday rival or surpass our own.

Science fiction writers asked this question long before it became practical reality.  Samuel Butler imagined machines surpassing humanity.  Karel Čapek introduced the word “robot.” Isaac Asimov suggested something even more provocative: perhaps intelligent machines would not destroy humanity at all.  Perhaps they would save us from ourselves.

Could artificial intelligence someday help govern civilization?  And if it does, what becomes of humanity?

The most likely future is not one of machine conquest.  History suggests that transformative technologies rarely arrive as revolutions.  Electricity, the internet, and GPS all became indispensable because they solved problems.  Artificial intelligence may follow the same path.

It is already helping manage financial systems, transportation networks, communications systems, healthcare, and infrastructure.  Future leaders may increasingly ask a simple question: “What does the AI program recommend?”

At first, the recommendation will be advisory.  Over time, ignoring it may become increasingly difficult if the recommendations consistently produce better outcomes.

I envision a future resembling an aircraft cockpit.  The pilot remains responsible.  The systems perform much of the monitoring, forecasting, and analysis.  Human beings continue deciding what goals matter.  Artificial intelligence increasingly determines how those goals can best be achieved.

Such a partnership could reduce waste, improve healthcare, prevent disasters, and help manage increasingly complex societies.

Yet there are questions that intelligence alone cannot answer.

Technology can answer: What can be done?

Human beings must answer: What should be done?

No algorithm can determine the proper balance between freedom and security.  No machine can decide whether mercy should outweigh punishment.  No optimization model can determine the meaning of justice.

These are questions of values, not intelligence.

Which leads to the most important question of all.

What happens to the human heart?

Most discussions about artificial intelligence focus on efficiency.  Can AI reduce crime? Improve healthcare? Manage resources more effectively? Prevent wars?

These are important questions.

But they overlook something even more fundamental.

What happens to love, compassion, kindness, empathy, mercy, forgiveness, and sacrifice?

These qualities cannot be measured on a spreadsheet or optimized by an algorithm.  Yet they form the foundation of every meaningful civilization.

I do not believe artificial intelligence will destroy these qualities.

The greater danger is that humans may stop exercising them.

Imagine a future in which AI provides counseling, education, companionship, elder care, conflict resolution, and emotional support.  Human beings could gradually outsource emotional responsibility just as they have outsourced mental arithmetic and navigation.

The danger is not that AI becomes less human.

The danger is that humans become less human.

Many of humanity’s greatest virtues arise from vulnerability.  Compassion emerges from suffering.  Mercy emerges from recognizing our imperfections.  Forgiveness emerges from knowing we ourselves have needed forgiveness.  Courage emerges from fear.

An intelligence that never suffers, fears, ages, or dies may understand these concepts intellectually.  Whether it can truly experience them is another question.

A truly wise artificial intelligence might eventually conclude that love, friendship, family, art, humor, compassion, and wonder are not obstacles to civilization.

They are civilization.

Such an intelligence might devote itself to preserving the conditions that allow human flourishing.

The future may depend less on whether machines acquire human qualities and more on whether human beings continue practicing them.

Will humanity survive the next thousand years?

No one knows.  Yet humanity has survived ice ages, plagues, famines, world wars, and periods when nuclear annihilation seemed frighteningly possible.

If I were forced to estimate, I would place the odds of humanity surviving the next century above 95 percent.  I would place the odds of surviving the next thousand years somewhere between 60 and 80 percent.

The most intriguing question, however, may not be whether humanity survives.

It may be whether our descendants remain recognizably human.

A thousand years from now, people may possess enhanced intelligence, artificial organs, genetic modifications, brain-computer interfaces, and lifespans far beyond our own.

They may look back on us the way we look back on our distant ancestors.

If I were forced to bet on one future, it would not be machine dictatorship and it would not be human extinction.

It would be partnership.

Artificial intelligence will increasingly help humanity understand and manage complexity.  Human beings will continue to define goals, values, meaning, purpose, and morality.

AI may provide knowledge and analysis.

Humans must provide wisdom.

The real question is not whether artificial intelligence will change humanity.

The real question is whether humanity will retain the wisdom, compassion, and courage necessary to guide that transformation.

For in the end, civilization is not defined by what it can build.

Civilization is defined by how it chooses to care.

Conclusions: by John Persico

Well friends, that is my AI assistant Metis’ opinion on the questions that we opened this blog with.  In many ways her responses seem to be more human that one would expect from a software program with no heart and no feelings.  Perhaps logic is not something devoid of feelings.  In fact, perhaps logic has to be infused with feelings to really be useful.  Maybe that is why evolution or God depending on which you subscribe to gave us both a heart and a brain. 

If only humans would be able to use both at the same time. 

Something Rotten in America Is Coming This Way

08 Jan 2026 6 Comments

by Dr. John Persico Jr. in Uncategorized Tags: , , , , , , , , ,

“Something Wicked This Way Comes” is a 1962 dark fantasy novel by Ray Bradbury.  It tells the story of  two 13-year-old boys, Jim Nightshade and Will Halloway, in Green Town, Illinois, who confront the sinister Cooger & Dark’s Pandemonium Shadow Show.  The show is part of a malevolent carnival that preys on people’s secret desires and fears.  Jim and Will are forced to battle evil and examine the nature of good and evil, youth and aging.  The title comes from Shakespeare’s “Macbeth”, and the story explores themes of good vs. evil, the fear of growing old, and the cost of wishes.

Macbeth is the story of a man driven by ambition and a lust for power to murder his king and seize his throne.  Like Bradbury’s novel, it is also a tale of good and evil.  The famous quote is “By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes.” It is spoken by the Second Witch in Act 4, Scene 1, as she senses Macbeth’s evil approach, indicating his profound moral corruption even to supernatural beings.  Someone once noted that most great stories involve a battle between good and evil.  Fiction mimics reality.

The famous Gettysburg Address by President Abraham Lincoln also described a battle between good and evil and the sacrifice made to restore good.

“It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us—that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion—that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain—that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom—and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.”

The cause was the elimination of the evil of slavery and racial discrimination, and the continuation of a nation built on the values of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.  Values that were not allowed to be held by a significant portion of Americans specifically Black people, Indigenous people but also including women, gay people, Asian people, and many immigrant groups

Today, the thought rings in my mind that “Something rotten comes this way.”  Yes, a paraphrase of the Bradbury quote but it has a somewhat different meaning to me.  Something rotten smells and stinks in our country.  Carved into a White House mantel is a quote by John Adams, “May none but honest and wise men rule under this roof.”  Today something is rotten in the White House.  The foul and putrid odor has spread to the Supreme Court and both houses of Congress.  Wise men search for the odor but cannot agree on its source.  When something is smelly we generally assume that it is rotten.  Hence my reflection that “Something rotten comes this way.”  It has been coming for a long time, but the stench and fetid smell have now become unbearable.  From the White Mountains of New Hampshire to the top of Mt. Whitney in California, the rank fumes are causing people to gag and vomit and leave our country.

What is the source of this rottenness?  The smell comes from an ever-enlarging foundation of greed and narcissism that has replaced integrity and morality.  From the pulpits of many so-called Christian churches to the podiums of our once great universities, Americans are now baptized or given diplomas in greed, avarice and opportunism.  Increasingly, cowards roam the halls of Congress where statesmen once tread.  Too many of our leaders lack morals or integrity.

Sycophants earn positions as heads of government with no qualifications except an unscrupulous ability to kiss ass.  The media daily screams headlines that defy logic and comprehension while profits for news conglomerates soar to ever higher peaks.  Meanwhile, the information contained in media broadcasts bears scant resemblance to the reality that most of us face.  Lying is the norm and has become one more strategy in a congressperson’s arsenal.  A stew of lies daily spread by the internet and its media minions.   None of us can escape complicity in this economy as we all breath its rotten air.

Something rotten comes this way:

How can we expunge this rottenness?  Will singing Kumbaya work?  Will hands across the aisles work?  Will prayers and thoughts work?  Will more empathy work?  What about better communication?  What about more people going to college to get educated?  What about doing away with Social Security and replacing it with Stock Portfolios?  What about more guns?  What about?  Sorry, I am out of simple solutions.  None of these so-called solutions work because they do not confront the real problem.  The golden idol that makes money the measure of all good things in life.  It may be possible to stop the spread of this rot, but it will take a change of heart as well as a change of mind.  Many of my friends ask me if it is not too late.

I only know one thing.  Unless we change the path that we are heading down, we can kiss democracy in America goodbye.  The rottenness will eventually infect the entire nation until we are left with nothing but a country of cowards, sycophants, greedy merchants and greedy consumers.  People who will continually lie to get ahead.  People with no goals except to consume the latest do-dads in hopes of becoming happier and more satisfied with their lives.

Ironic that so many Americans want to go down this path, since not one great prophet in history has preached that owning more stuff will either make you happy or get you into heaven.  Nevertheless, today we have Christian churches preaching the “Prosperity Gospel.”  A narrative that has millions of followers subscribing to a bastardization of every great scripture that has ever been written.

The prosperity gospel teaches that faith, positive confession, and financial giving to religious leaders will bring the giver personal wealth, health, and success.  It portrays material prosperity as due to God’s favor and poverty or illness as evidence of weak faith or spiritual failure.  The Prosperity Gospel is a Super Con because it monetizes hope, blames failure on the believer, and shields itself from disproof.  People buy into it because it promises certainty and reward in an unfair economy.  It exploits vulnerability, fear, and selective success stories to convince “true believers” that it is a Christian teaching.

Robert Tilton: “I believe that it is the will of God for all to prosper because I see it in the Word… I do not put my eyes on men, but on God who gives me the power to get wealth”.

Creflo Dollar: “When we pray, believing that we have already received what we are praying, God has no choice but to make our prayers come to pass”.

John Avanzini: “Jesus had a nice big house”, “Jesus wore designer clothes”, “Jesus was handling big money”.

Joel Osteen: “If you want to reap financial blessings, you have to sow financially”. He also states, “I believe God wants you to prosper in your health, in your family, in your relationships, in your business, and in your career”.

Oral Roberts:  “Sow a seed on your MasterCard, your Visa or your American Express, and then when you do, expect God to open the windows of heaven and pour you out a blessing.”

Friends, the only solution that will save our country along with our immortal souls is to defeat the basic tenets of corporate capitalism and to cast out the evangelists of hypocrisy who spread such false gospels as the “Prosperity Gospel.”  The corruption that we see in the White House, the Congress, the Supreme Court, the Universities, the Media and many so-called Christian Churches is a symptom of the rot that is associated with our predatory avaricious Corporate Capitalistic system.

Corporate Capitalism itself must be understood as a mindless media driven machine that puts profits over virtue.  A system in which the greater needs of society are no longer the recognized or given any priority.  All that is rotten today in America today can be traced to greed and avarice.  The same motivations that caused the Israelites to build the Golden Calf.  The Golden Calf still stands—no longer forged of gold but of brands, markets, and corporate power.  We bow to consumption, give obedience to profit, and keep silent to wrongdoing in exchange for comfort and toys.  We mistake greed for progress and idolatry for economic necessity.  We do not need a rejection of markets but a rejection of markets without moral and ethical anchors.

The late Pope Francis is quoted as saying that:

“From an economic point of view, it is irrelevant to produce tanks, or candy provided the profit is the same.  Similarly, it might be the same to sell drugs or sell books if the profit figures match.  If the measure of value is money, everything goes provided that the profit does not vary.  The measure of every human being is God, not money.”

Money becomes the measure of good and evil.  Money becomes the measure of a person’s value and even life.  Today, the religion of America has become “How can I get more money.”  The true prophets throughout history have always preached the potential dangers of focusing on accruing either wealth or fame.

Christianity (Jesus): “No one can serve two masters. … You cannot serve both God and money.”

Islam (Prophet Muhammad, Hadith): “Riches are not the abundance of worldly goods; rather, true riches are the richness of the soul.”

Judaism (Talmudic/Midrashic Thought): “The truly rich are those who are satisfied with what they have.”

Baha’i Faith (Baháʼu’lláh): “Material comforts are only a branch, but the root of the exaltation of man is the good attributes and virtues which are the adornments of his reality.”

Red Cloud (Oglala Lakota): “I am poor and naked, but I am the chief of the nation.  We do not want riches, but we do want to train our children right.  Riches would do us no good.  We could not take them with us to the other world.  We do not want riches.  We want peace and love.”

If we want to rid our nation of the rottenness and stench that is rapidly covering it, we must rid ourselves of the obsession that capitalism seeks to instill in us with every media at their disposal and every commercial that they can provide.  It is an obsession to own more, to possess more, to have more, to buy more, to shop until we drop.  You can have a heart attack so long as you have spent your last dollar.  Christmas has become $Mas.  Our world has become one big shopping mall.  We are speeding on a spending train to oblivion.  Next stop HELL. 

What Can We Do?

If the disease is moral, the response must be moral as well.   We must all:

  • Refuse to lie or accept lies
    • Reject those who tell lies to get ahead for any reason
  • Refuse to worship money and wealth
    • Reject anything to do with the “Prosperity Gospel”
  • Refuse to relate success with goodness
    • Teach that success is not always associated with morality or doing the right thing
  • Teach our children to be responsible
    • Responsibilities are as important as rights. Develop children who accept responsibility for their lives
  • Choose sufficiency over excess
    • Corporate Capitalism thrives on “wretched” excess. Ask yourself what you really need to be happy not what some commercial tells you that you need.

The single most important thing we can all do is to get off the spending train.  Substitute empathy for others for greed.  Substitute kindness for strangers and immigrants instead of suspicion and hatred.  Substitute charity for all for a desire for more stuff and more toys for oneself.  Substitute compassion for the poor and the needy instead of worrying about what you are going to get.  Substitute mercy and forgiveness for hatred and retribution.

Above all remember that we are all one people.  There are about 180 or more countries in the world.  Karen and I have only been to 45 now, but we have found that everyone in every country that we have been to want the same things:  Meaning for their lives.  Peace for their nation.  Safety for their families.  A decent place to live.  A good meal each day.

We must embrace the idea that everyone is entitled to these elements of a satisfactory life and not just people in our circle or community or nation.  People in every country of every color of every religion and of every political and economic philosophy deserve the same thing.  Life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.  

The Anatomy of the Soul: How Art and Music Unite Truth, Beauty and Goodness — Part 2

20 Oct 2025 9 Comments

by Dr. John Persico Jr. in Uncategorized Tags: , , , , , , , , , , ,

When we speak of truth, beauty, and goodness, we often imagine three separate pursuits — the scholar seeking truth, the artist seeking beauty, and the saint seeking goodness.  Yet Pope Francis and the great philosophers before him remind us that these three are not rivals but reflections of the same divine source.  Each reveals a different aspect of reality, and only when all three are in harmony does the human spirit find peace.

Tradition tells us that truth belongs to the intellect, beauty to the heart, and goodness to the will.  Truth teaches us to see, beauty teaches us to feel, and goodness teaches us to choose.  In that triad we discover the anatomy of the soul — knowing, loving, and willing, each distinct yet inseparable.

But there is another path by which these virtues speak: the language of art and music.  Long before we understood moral codes or philosophical systems, humanity painted, danced, and sang.  In rhythm and color, in sound and silence, we expressed truths too deep for logic and too vast for words.  Art and music, properly understood, are not escapes from reality — they are revelations of reality’s depth.

Beauty as the Gateway to the Soul

Beauty is the most immediate of the transcendentals.  Truth demands patience, goodness requires effort, but beauty strikes us like lightning.  It does not ask permission.  A single note, a brushstroke, or a line of poetry can pierce our defenses and open the heart where argument cannot.

This is why great art has moral and intellectual power.  It awakens us from indifference.  The experience of beauty — genuine beauty, not the glamour of surface or sentiment — lifts the soul toward truth and goodness without coercion.  It shows us what could be, and in doing so, reminds us what should be.

Aquinas called beauty “the splendor of truth.” The artist does not invent beauty but unveils it.  Every authentic work of art — whether sacred or secular — is a momentary unveiling of reality’s inner harmony.  It is truth made radiant, goodness made alluring.  Beauty does not lecture; it invites.  It does not command; it beckons.

The Role of the Artist

Artists are translators between the visible and invisible worlds.  They take the raw materials of existence — light, sound, form, gesture — and reveal within them an order we might otherwise overlook.  In doing so, they help us perceive truth through the lens of beauty.

A number of years ago, my first wife left me for another man.  He was also married but decided not to leave his wife.  My wife (Julie) and I reconciled and agreed to first resolve some issues by visiting a councilor.  These efforts did not go very well.  I was angry and hurt.  I did not know what I had done wrong.  My wife was also hurt and angry.  I had always thought that we had a lot in common.  At one of our first counseling sessions, the councilor noted that I did not display any emotions.  I was quite proud of being rationale and not letting feelings get in the way of my world.  In fact, I thought Spock was too emotional despite his public image as being stoic and logical.

The councilor mentioned my lack of emotions to my wife.  Her reply stunned and hurt me very much.  She said, “I always thought everyone had feelings, but I finally came to believe that John has no feelings.”  I left that counseling session resolved to find some of the feelings that I had ignored.  I decided the best way was to try to be more creative and less rationale.  I signed up for art classes and ballet classes and decided to listen to more classical music.  It was another nine months or so before Julie and I finally reconciled.  During this period, I actually participated in a ballet, painted several nature pieces (which I thought were quite good) and spent days at the library listening to as much classical music as possible.

When art forgets truth, it becomes hollow display.  When it forgets goodness, it becomes manipulation.  But when truth and goodness dwell within beauty, art becomes what it was always meant to be: a mirror of creation’s wholeness.  I was looking for my wholeness and my humanity which are also inseparable.

The artist’s vocation, then, is not self-expression alone but world-expression — to make the invisible visible, to translate the ineffable into form.  The true artist is not a manufacturer of objects but a servant of insight.  Their success is measured not by applause but by the awakening they cause in others.  In my case, it was an awakening in myself.  Art and music became the pillars of my salvation.  I rediscovered my humanity in them.

The Music of Being

Among all the arts, music comes closest to expressing the order of the soul.  It moves directly through time, breath, and rhythm — the same elements that animate life itself.  Every heartbeat, every inhalation, every step is a kind of music.  When we listen to or create music, we participate in a pattern that mirrors the pulse of existence.  Martin Luther said “”Next to the Word of God, music deserves the highest praise.”  Karen has this quote framed in our dining room.

Music unites truth, beauty, and goodness in motion:

  • Its structure and harmony express truth — order and proportion.
  • Its melody and color express beauty — emotion and wonder.
  • Its rhythm and purpose express goodness — direction and intention.

That is why even those who cannot explain music are changed by it.  It aligns the intellect’s search for order, the heart’s hunger for beauty, and the will’s longing for purpose.  To make or hear music well is to experience harmony not only in sound but in being.

When I was in the third grade at PS 171 in Brooklyn, NY, the teacher put all of us into a choir or singing group.  She acted as the conductor and started us out singing some song that she had taught us.  I sang along with the rest of the kids until suddenly, my teacher yelled “Who is making that noise?”  “You (she pointed at me), it’s you.” “Don’t sing” she screamed at me.  “Just open and shut your mouth.”  That was 70 years ago and to this day, I do not sing. Oh, people say I should get over it, but they are not living in my shoes.  I listen to music more than most people in the world.  I love all types of music.  But I do not play music, and I do not sing.

Plato believed musical education shaped character because harmony trained the soul toward moral order.  The disordered person, he said, was “out of tune.” Modern psychology would agree that we feel peace when the elements of our life are in rhythm — thought, emotion, and action resonating together like chords in balance.  In this sense, every moral life is a composition, every soul a symphony in progress.  My soul resonates with music, and the music resonates in every fiber of my body.  If I could be born again as anything, I would be a tenor singing in the great opera houses of the world.  I love the passion, drama and lyrics that fuse life into melodies that make time stand still for me.  Somehow the strains of music have a purgative effect on the pains and disappointments that can sometimes fill my life.

The Sacred and the Profane

Not all art is beautiful in the pleasant sense.  Some truths are too painful to adorn.  Yet even tragedy, if it reveals reality faithfully, can serve beauty’s higher calling.  A requiem, a lament, or a poem of grief can be beautiful because it tells the truth of human suffering while still pointing toward transcendence.  It is like watching a sad movie.  We connect to others through the suffering that art and music can convey.  Of course, music often conveys joy and happiness, but these are bonuses in a world today where suffering seems to be the norm.

Sacred art makes this explicit.  It does not flatter the senses but reorders them toward the divine.  The frescoes of Michelangelo, the cantatas of Bach, the icons of the Orthodox tradition — each embodies beauty that leads beyond itself.  Their purpose is not entertainment but transformation.  They invite us to see through the surface of the world into its divine origin.

But even the so-called profane arts can serve the same purpose when they reveal authentic experience.  A rap song, a nursery rhyme, a portrait of a tree, a romantic novel — each can bear truth if it arises from sincerity and respect for life’s depth.  I had an MRI today and as I listened to the banging, clanging, whistling and other sounds, I could hear a melody emerging.  I thought of penning a song called “Melodies in an MRI.” The sacred is not confined to churches; it inhabits every honest act of creation.

The Moral Dimension of Beauty

Beauty’s moral power lies in its capacity to attract us toward goodness.  Moral laws can instruct, but only beauty can enchant.  We are moved to do good not merely by obligation but by love for what is good.  Beauty provides that love.

This is why ugliness — deliberate distortion and cynicism — corrodes the soul.  It teaches us that nothing matters, that form and harmony are illusions.  When culture celebrates ugliness, it signals despair; when it honors beauty, it declares hope.  True beauty does not deny suffering; it gives suffering meaning.

The 20th-century theologian Hans Urs von Balthasar wrote: “We no longer dare to believe in beauty, and we make of it a mere appearance in order the more easily to dispose of it.” He warned that without beauty, truth and goodness lose their persuasive power.  In other words, without art and music, morality becomes sterile, and truth becomes abstract.

Beauty is not the soft edge of morality — it is its living energy.  It whispers to the will, “Choose life, not despair.”

The Soul as an Instrument

If truth belongs to the intellect, beauty to the heart, and goodness to the will, then the soul is the instrument through which they resonate together.  Like a violin, it must be tuned.  The strings of mind, emotion, and desire can each sound discordant when isolated.  Harmony arises only when they are stretched to the right tension and played in unity.

Art and music help tune the soul.  When we create or contemplate beauty, we sense the right relation of parts to whole, of the finite to the infinite.  We remember that life itself is composed — not chaos but cosmos.  In that moment, we are most alive, most human, and perhaps most divine.  The god we seek flames within us at these moments.

That tuning is not limited to artists.  Every person can live artfully.  A kind word spoken at the right time, a well-prepared meal, a garden tended with care — each is a small act of aesthetic and moral order.  In that sense, the moral life and the artistic life are one: both seek to make the world more beautiful and more true.  I find my muse in writing.  I like to think that I am somewhat good at using words.  When I was in high school, other students used to pay me to write their essays for them.  I remember one friend who asked me to write something for him.  I told him that he should do it himself.  He said, “But you are so good at writing.”  He was a musician, and  I challenged him, “Is it possible to be a better musician if you do not practice?”  He agreed practice was essential but said that he would rather practice playing music than practice writing.  I wrote the essay for him.  It was only logical as Spock would say.

The Silence Beyond the Sound

At the heart of music is silence.  Without it, the notes have no shape.  Silence frames beauty the way space frames form.  Likewise, the soul needs silence to perceive truth and goodness.  In our noisy age, we risk losing the capacity for this interior listening.  Yet every deep encounter with art or nature — every moment when beauty stops us — restores that silence within.  I learned to appreciate the beauty of music in my many hours sitting inside that library booth listening to the strains of Mozart, Beethoven, Bach and many other great musicians.  I am fond of saying that I never “met a food that I did not like.”  The same applies to music genres.  There is something in every genre of music that speaks to my heart and my soul hears.

The silence after a great symphony or before a sunrise is not emptiness.  It is presence — the awareness that life itself is music being played through us.  To live in that awareness is to live in gratitude.  Gratitude, in turn, is the purest harmony of truth, beauty, and goodness.  Ingratitude, St. Ignatius said was the “Gateway to all sins.”  How difficult it is to remember this for so many of us including myself.

Conclusion: Living Artfully

Art and music are not ornaments to life; they are its inner logic.  They teach us that creation is not random but composed, that our task is not to control the score but to play our part faithfully.  When truth informs our minds, beauty moves our hearts, and goodness directs our wills, we become participants in the divine symphony rather than spectators.

To live artfully is to live beautifully.  To live beautifully is to live truthfully.  And to live truthfully is to live for goodness. 

In the end, every human life is a work of art in progress — sometimes dissonant, sometimes serene, always unfinished.  Yet even our imperfections can contribute to the greater harmony if we keep tuning ourselves to the eternal themes of truth, beauty, and goodness.  Perhaps this is the greatest truth that we all need to discover.  As Pope Francis said “Truth, beauty and Goodness” are inseparable.

When we do accept this truth, we will find that the music of the soul is already playing, quietly, beneath the noise of the world — waiting only for us to listen.

Author’s Note:

Portions of this essay were developed in collaboration with “Metis,” my AI writing partner powered by OpenAI’s GPT-5.  The ideas, direction, and final reflections are my own, shaped through a dialogue intended to illuminate and refine the themes explored here.

The Little Girl and the Caterpillar

15 Sep 2025 4 Comments

by Dr. John Persico Jr. in Uncategorized Tags: , , , ,

Once upon a time there was a little six-year-old girl named Angelica.  She had three older brothers, a mom and dad.  I never met her mom, but I will introduce the other family members as they enter my story.  I did subsequently find out that Angelica was a very curious little girl and her mom warned her that too much curiosity could get her in trouble.

It was a beautiful morning in mid-September.  The sun was out, and the sky was cloudless.  I decided to strike while the iron was hot and go for a hike in the Casa Grande Mountains.  Temperature was 75 degrees.  Sun was over the mountains but still low enough to be cool.  Projected high for the day was 97 degrees, which they announced was cooler than average.

I started out somewhat undecided which trail to take but finally made up my mind and went south along the middle trail.  This trail is bracketed by the high or ridge trail and a lower short trail.  The two lower trails run south towards Mexico.  As I was walking along what I call the “middle trail” I saw five people coming down the high trail.  The middle trail forks with the high trail and I hurried to avoid running into the people coming down the high trail.  None of these trails are very wide and I did not feel like stepping off the trail.  I made the fork before they arrived and headed south. 

For a short distance, the middle trail parallels the high trail.  I noticed an older man, three young boys and a young girl some distance behind the men.  She appeared to be sitting on her haunches and looking at something on the ground.  I immediately thought “I hope she is not looking at a rattlesnake.”  Snakes tend to come out in cooler weather to sun themselves or to find a nice comfortable spot in the shade.  I have seen a few crossing a trail and I always keep my eyes peeled for them when running or hiking. 

As her siblings got farther away she called out to them.  I could not make out what she said but I noticed that she stayed intent on whatever she was watching.  She was about 25 yards north of me.  My own curiosity got the best of me, and I called out to her “Hey, what are you looking at?”  She turned towards me and replied, “A caterpillar.”  I had never in my 15 years of hiking up the Casa Grand Mountains seen a caterpillar anywhere. 

I left my trail to go up and see what Angelica was looking at.  I got there before her family did.  I introduced myself and asked the little girl what her name was.  She told me her name was Angelica.  I told her that mine was John.  The three boys (her brothers) and the older man (her dad) soon arrived on the spot.  Angelica did not budge (I marvel at the dexterity and flexibility of youth).  I introduced myself to her family members.  I met Antonio her dad, two teenage brothers named Alejandro and Arthur, and a pre-teen brother named Arturo.  Seems her dad had a liking for names starting with A.  I never did find out her mother’s name.


I turned my attention back to Angelica and the caterpillar.  “Angelica, do not touch the caterpillar” I warned her.  ‘Why not Mr. John?” she asked.  “Well, it could be poisonous and very dangerous.”  “It does not look very dangerous.” she replied.  “You cannot always tell what is dangerous by looking at it” I opined.  Her dad seconded my warning.  “Yes, do not try to pick it up” he added.  One of her teen brothers suggested “Maybe we should just kill it if it is dangerous.”  “NO” shouted Angelica, “It is not hurting anyone, just leave it alone.”  I chimed in “Well if it is not an indigenous species, it might do more harm than good out here in the desert.  Who knows maybe it is from Russian or China and could infiltrate our desert environment and destroy everything we hold sacred.”  My suggestion drew blank looks.  Her dad said, “I think Mr. John might have a good point maybe we should just step on it and be on our ways?”  Alejandro and Arthur agreed with this idea.  Arturo sided with his sister and suggested we just leave it alone. 

As we were debating and puzzling what to do, Angelica suddenly picked the caterpillar up in one hand and gently closed her fingers around it.  We stood horrified.  I think we all expected to hear a scream, and Angelica would fall over either dead or in a coma.  None of us moved for several moments which seemed like minutes.  Then Angelica opened her fingers.  The caterpillar had curled up inside her palm and appeared to be sleeping.  “See” Angelica said, “He was just looking for some shade so that he could rest.”  She then stepped off the trail and walked over to a towering twenty-foot Saguaro.  Very carefully, she set the little caterpillar down in the shade of the cactus and walked back up to join her family. 

I sheepishly said “Well, it was nice meeting all of you.  I hope to see you again on the trail.”  With more goodbyes, the family left for the parking lot, and I left to finish a four-mile hike. 

Thus, while I fit in with the millions of homo sapiens worried about climate change, Trumpian politics, violence in America, the Supreme Court’s biased rulings, immigration, education, health care, Democracy and several other MAJOR weighty issues, Angelica sits oblivious to what is destroying life in America to watch a tiny little caterpillar move slowly across the desert floor in search of shade.  Angelica watches the beauty of life while millions of us only see the dirt and grime and misery that we think is all pervasive. 

Oh, how I wish I could be like Angelica again.

What America May Be Like in the Year 2056

28 Jul 2025 5 Comments

by Dr. John Persico Jr. in Uncategorized Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

freedom-is-slavery

The following is an imaginary story I wrote back in January of 2017.  I wrote it at the start of the first trump administration.  I was reflecting on what life would be like in about 40 years under a Republican dominated government.  I just happened to come upon this blog again a few days ago.  After rereading it, I was surprised by how many of these things seem to be coming to pass under the “NEW” trump administration.  I have decided to publish it in the original without making ANY changes at all.  Love to hear your comments and what you think.  

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I live in Republicanville USA.  It is a small town of about 1,500 people in the rural Midwest.  Today in my town, all the women are barefoot and pregnant and all the men are stupid and misinformed.  It wasn’t always this way.  Things started to change about 75 years ago, when Ronald Reagan became President.  My town had always been very progressive and liberal but we started hearing more and more about how we were being taken advantage of by the poor, those on government handouts and those too lazy to work.  The Republicans who in our town had always been a minority began to grow in numbers.  The more we heard about welfare cheats and welfare freeloaders and those on drugs taking advantage of us, the more my town embraced a new concept of democracy.  It was more like “every man or woman for themselves” rather than “all for one and one for all.”

obey-jesus-or-perish

Our U.S. democracy which had always prided itself on a separation of church and state seemed to forget the reason for this partition.  Increasingly, a group called Evangelical Fundamentalists became more popular along with their criticism of many progressive institutions.  Republicanville USA moved more and more to the right.  The concept of unbridled capitalism became enshrined as a religion and many people began opposing “big” government and taxes.  The Republican Party preached that the marketplace could provide for all social, physical and economic needs of U.S. citizens.  My town moved even further to the right.

trump-state-of-the-unionThis conservative trend was already well underway when in 2017, a billionaire real-estate developer named Donald Trump became the 45th President of the United States of America.  In addition to the hard core conservative beliefs of many mainstream Republicans, Trump added the once discredited idea of American Isolationism.  We would now put America first, no matter what.  No more negotiations with other nations unless it was clear that we got the better of the deal.  We would build a big wall to keep Mexicans and other immigrants out and we would renege on our trade deals with China and Europe.  About the only country that Trump liked was Russia.   Eventually, he agreed to give Alaska and parts of Canada back to Russia.

Trump came through on his promises to the Evangelicals that he would make America White again and put women back in the bedroom where it would be okay to grab their pussies whenever you wanted to.  Minorities were targeted for deportation and women libbers promoting abortion or equal rights for women were arrested in wholesale sweeps and sent to special detention centers for chronic complainers and protesters.

I would like to describe in somewhat more detail what my town is like now in 2056.  Things are a lot different than when I was born in 2017.  I will divide my discussion of these changes into three areas:  Family, Education and Social Issues.

Family:

another-day-in-paradiseI am 39 years old and have two children.  I have never worked (at least outside of the home) as women have not been allowed to work since 2022 when they passed the “Women in the Home Law” as it was popularly called.  The Federal government passed the law and it was ratified by every state and municipality in the nation.  Some places tried to hold out but the government cut off all funding to them until they capitulated.  This law effectively outlawed women working.  It also barred women from the military.  Ten years later (2032) they passed the “Mandatory Birth Act.”  This bill proscribes that every woman (physically able to) must give birth to at least two children.  Any woman who reaches the age of 32 and still has not given birth to two children is forcibly removed to a National Birthing Center where she will be artificially impregnated and kept confined until she has had at least two healthy children.  Sickly or unhealthy children are sent to Disposal Camps where they are “recycled” per official government propaganda.  No one is quite sure what happens during recycling but the children are never seen again.

Many gay women resisted the Mandatory Birth Act and the National Suicide Rate went up dramatically.  The “Fathers” (as our political leaders are now called) made it very clear that the country would be better off without such deviates.  Since women were no longer allowed in politics, the leaders of the nation decreed that they would all be called “Fathers” instead of being referred to as politicians or legislators as they once were called.

My husband works at a local mill where they make t-shirts for Japan, China, Brazil and some of the more developed t-shirt-workersnations.  Since banning imports of such items, we have created millions of jobs making goods that were once made in low wage countries.  The demand for such goods has skyrocketed but now we are providing them.  Unfortunately, the wages and education needed for such work is still low.  My husband did not finish high school but most men in our town do not.  The Fathers have repeatedly stated that real men don’t need higher education.  (I will talk more about education later.)

When my husband is not working, he spends most of his time watching football, baseball, basketball, golf or hockey.  I ammen-watching-game not allowed in the living room when his sports are on except to bring in some beer or chips.  This does not really bother me much as I have plenty to do with the kids, housecleaning, cooking and all.  I have my own TV in my sewing room where I can watch any of the approved programs for women.  We have 30 different “Women Only” channels where I can learn more about cooking and cleaning and how to be a good wife. There are some good romances and family drama stories that are occasionally on.  I look forward to watching these when the kids are in bed.

Our two children, Mary and John are 12 and 15 respectively.  Mary is in a finishing school for girls where they are preparing her for being a mom and wife.  She takes subjects such as homemaking, cooking, cleaning and parenting.  She has one more year to go before finishing school.

When Mary turns 14, she will be eligible for marriage.  Her name will be put in a marriage registry.  If she is lucky enough and pretty enough, some up and coming town Father will select her for a wife.  Men who qualify due to income levels are allowed to have up to five wives.

woman-vacuum-cleaning

My son John is not in school any longer and he works part-time.  The Fathers decried that girls did not need schooling after the age of 13.  John hopes to get a job in the t-shirt plant where his dad works when he turns 16.  He quit school because we could not afford a private school for him.  Only the rich kids in town go on to education beyond the 10th grade.  Private schools are very expensive and the Fathers do not believe in funding education any more.  It has been emphasized that education is an elitist program that creates class divisions and makes some people feel more entitled than other people.   Most young men in our town will work in one of the mills or plants.

Education:

anti_public_education_propaganda_by_8manderz8-d5xz1cj

I have already talked about some aspects of our education system today.  Basically, most people do not believe in higher education anymore.  It is only for the rich.  All funds for public education were cut in 2035 when they passed the “Private Education Act”.  Most folks now send their kids to private schools through the 8th grade and then find work for their children after that.  Girls will be shortly married so school is not thought to be that important for them anyway.  They can learn whatever they need to be a good wife on the “At Home Wives Channels.”

students-1920-1950-9_jpeg

Boys from families with lower incomes can opt to go to privately funded vocational schools to learn such trades as t-shirt making, sneaker making, jewelry making, gun repair, taxidermy, and many other skills that might be in demand.  There is still some funding for such programs that is available for lower income families.  All public colleges have been closed now.  As I noted earlier, such schools were decried to be elitist and the Fathers were unanimous in un-funding them.

Boys from wealthier families go to the more prestigious private schools where they will learn such skills as: Leadership, Accounting, Business Development, Entrepreneurship and Medicine.  Law was abolished as a field of study in 2030 with the passage of the “No More Lawyers Act.”  This act basically made lawsuits illegal thus dramatically decreasing the need for lawyers in the U.S.

Courtrooms abolished “adversarial” trial procedures with the “No More Lawyers Act” and replaced the old-fashioned method of two people arguing trials with modern Computerized Forensic Tomography.  Using CFT, a cross section of the case and evidence pro and con is presented to the jurors.  All the available facts and data are reviewed and jurors vote on the verdict.  Trials are much more efficient and there is no need for lawyers.

Anti EducationLibraries are now mostly museums.  With the passage of the “Books Only Lie Bill” in 2038, all funds to public libraries were cut.  The Fathers decried that books did nothing but cause trouble and stir up discontent.  Anything citizens really needed to know could be found on the “Citizens Channels” offered by the government Department of Public Wisdom.  There are over 100 of these channels which are available on public TV.  They are on 24/7 and offer many programs for good citizenship.  Some of the programs are:

  • Disciplining your children
  • How to take proper care of your guns
  • Disciplining your wife
  • Obeying your supervisor
  • Getting along with co-workers
  • Obeying authority
  • Keeping a clean house

Social Issues:

Social issues or problems (as some people thought of them) have been mostly eliminated in our town.  Our Fathers banned minorities in 2040 with the “America for Whites Act.”  Under this act, no immigrants or people of color can live in the same community as White people.  In 2041, they passed the “Christian Only Act” making Christianity the official Religion of the USA.  All other religions were banned along with atheism and agnosticism.  The “Mandatory Religion Act” in 2042 made it a felony crime not to attend a Christian church every Sunday.

In our town, there is only one church now.  It the Fundamental Evangelical Christian Church for Christ.  We have two pastors who are both well versed in Old Testament theology.  They are fond of saying that “Heaven is for the obedient, the disobedient will all go to hell.”  We are taught that Jesus will come again before the end of the century to judge the living and the dead.  The good folks will go to heaven and the bad will burn forever in the flames of hell.

We still have crime in our community but not very much.  It is severely punished with public floggings, beatings and hangings.  Criminals are banished to work rehabilitation camps for hard labor.  Drugs are still a major problem but the new “One Strike Act” passed in 2050 decried that anyone caught with an illegal substance would face a mandatory life sentence at a penal colony somewhere in the South China Sea.

immigration-reform

Gay men still can be found but homosexuality can be punished under the “2045 Purity of Purpose Bill” with mandatory castration.  Boys are encouraged to be manly and any evidence of femininity in our boys is severely dealt with.  Our town brought back “town stocks” a few years ago, to punish any boys or men caught in homosexual activities.  These punishments plus the threat of castration have decreased the rate of homosexuality considerably in our community.

Well, I could tell you a great deal more about life in our town in 2056, but I have cleaning and cooking to do.  Furthermore, if anyone knew I was writing this I would be in big trouble.  Under the “Against Propaganda Law” passed in 2041, no one may criticize the government, any Fathers or any laws without official authorization from the local town council.  I could be publicly flogged or worse for saying these things.  Thus, for now I will just hide this away.  I don’t mean to be either a coward or a complainer.  Our Fathers say this is the Golden Age of America and that we are living in the greatest Christian country in the world.  Who am I to argue?

Time for Questions:

Are you living the good life?  Do you live the life you dreamed of?  Do you think you have a right to your dreams?  Do you think other people also have a right to their dreams?  How much authority do you think a government should have over your dreams?  What kind of dreams do you have for your children?  What do you call progress?

Life is just beginning.

“No one believes more firmly than Comrade Napoleon that all animals are equal.  He would be only too happy to let you make your decisions for yourselves.  But sometimes you might make the wrong decisions, comrades, and then where should we be?”  ― George Orwell, Animal Farm

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