David Letter(poem)

Freedom   poem by Ron Carnell I was fifteen when Grandfather died, his twisted body vanquished by too many years, his mind confused by too many diluted memories, his spirit still as strong and indomitable as the day he first killed another man to protect the life he loved. It was hard for me to see the war hero he had been within the wasted remnants of a wispy old man, his flesh sunken between fragile bones, his smooth, soft skin bleached paler than the sheets that wrapped him like a premature burial shroud. It was hard to see the war hero he had been until Grandfather opened his rheumy eyes, the blue as pale as a winter sky, as hard and cold as tempered steel. When he opened his eyes and looked into your soul, only then could you see it. Then you would know. Those eyes were a pool of profound strength, with unwept tears of pain and death floating just below their placid, unbroken surface, like ocean debris trapped within swift currents and forever forbidden to emerge, forbidden to pollute the sea that was his life. But, still, the soiled debris was a part of him. Grandfather survived the German occupation of his land, fought life and death struggles in an Underground that would not, could not accept the domination of others. And when it was over, when he had outlived the death, he had moved to a new land, a land of new-found friends. In America, Grandfather built a new life, while never forgetting the lessons of the old. His melodious French was replaced with broken English, the rifles with shovels, the knives with hammers. But nothing ever supplanted his implacable courage, nothing ever usurped his enduring strength. Grandfather was a warrior, but he was also a teacher. I listened to his words, saw his examples, learned from the stories and histories he shared. He showed me that courage and strength aren't independent qualities, but rather are the inevitable results of abiding love. "What you truly love," he would say, "can never be surrendered." And Grandfather, more than most, loved Freedom. I have since learned there are many who say it, but few who really feel it. And fewer still who understand it. Grandfather once told me he never fought for Freedom. He said, instead, he fought against domination. We were sitting in the old wooden swing, its paint as wrinkled and weathered as the skin of my grandfather's aged face, the sound of the river flowing through his yard a backdrop for a classroom with neither desks nor chalk boards. "A man can never take away your Freedom," he told me. "They can only take power and make you pay a higher price when you choose to exercise it. Hitler wanted to make that price a man's death. There is always a price to be paid for Freedom, but when the price becomes too high, a man must fight." I remember he paused then, his irregular breath like a clipped whistle as it wheezed past swollen nostrils. I was used to his long lulls, a habit so many found irritating. Grandfather was giving me time, I knew, to ponder, to absorb, to believe. And I knew, too, in knowing him, there would be more. When he finally continued, Grandfather's voice was almost a whisper. "It works both ways," he said, leaning closer, his minty breath an envelope around my face. "A man can never take away your freedom, and a man never grant it either." Grandfather's voice had many tones within it, and I had learned them all through the years. "The laws of this country are good ones, mostly," he said in a reverent tone, an awed tone that spoke of important lessons to be learned. "But you must always remember that its Constitution, and all the laws Congress has passed since then, don't give you one bit more Freedom than you already have. Laws are made by men. Laws change. Your Freedom is part of you. It's forever." I remember nodding my understanding, and I remember Grandfather's hand falling to my shoulder. He squeezed briefly, and I can only assume he was pleased. It would be another two years before he would lay in a death bed of virgin white, and another two decades before I would really understand his words. The Freedoms written within our laws are always conditional. Freedom of the Press is amended by libel statutes, and Search and Seizure laws are cast aside for Probable Cause. All the laws, all the guarantees, exist only at the whim of the courts and Due Process. Grandfather understood. Any government based on unconditional Freedom would necessarily be a government of unconditional anarchy. Our laws don't grant people Freedom. Our laws only set the price that must be paid when a citizen chooses to exercise our Freedom. But the Freedom comes from within. Grandfather was not a religious man, but he was a Godly man. And I think he knew. Our Creator gave us not only our existence, but he granted us Free Will, that we might choose between good and evil. And that power of choice is what Freedom is really all about. There will always be a price to pay for Freedom. The price is set by the hand of man, by the laws we make. When we are wise and good, the price is one we can bear. And when we are neither wise nor good, there will always be men like Grandfather, with the courage and strength to fight for what they love.

Honest letter to David

Dear David:

The average American is like other folks all over the world. He works hard to support his family and wants to see his kids become educated and to succeed in life. You have Christians, Jews, Muslims and a few Hindus. USA is called  a Judeo-Christian country. In general, there are tremendous advantages in USA. Truly, it is an environment of terrific abundance and the public education system is such that anyone who truly wants to become educated can do so. In other words, social class is no barrier to success. I think this is why people from all over the world come there to live and your only limitations are those you impose on yourself.Right? ....Though i amnot as well travelled as you are but,i have done almost the same things with BOOKS .I truly believe its the same with a little difference.so,I think of you as my friend and brother too and having a different faith is no barrier for us not to be friends and brothers.

Yours,

Honest

Ps: This is a poem by The great Iranian Poet "Sadi"

All men are members of the same body,
Created from one essence.
If fate brings suffering to one member,
The others cannot stay at rest.
You who remain indifferent
To the burden of pain of others,
Do not deserve to be called human

David Letter

My dear friend:   I am so proud of you!!  It takes courage to stand up to injustice and unfairness. All of you should be commended for your character and beliefs. I can't think of a more honorable profession than teaching. Teachers are so important to society and to the education of our children. You are shaping the minds of future generations. That is an enormous responsibility. I think it should be respected and paid well accordingly. You have a right to expect and demand a proper wage for your labor. I'm sure the principal and his superiors, are paid very well for their efforts. I am so proud of you my friend. I hope you all get the money that is rightfully due you. I mailed out your package this morning before I went to work. I hope that you like it. It will arrive in about ten days I was told. It's really no big deal, but it comes from my heart. I shopped around looking for something that I thought you might need. I enclosed a few post cards of my city for you to look at. I'm hoping perhaps we will meet face to face sometime. That would be nice. I thought about your question about funerals.......I'll try to answer you. In America, when someone dies, the family  has a public "showing" of their deceased loved one. Usually it lasts for one day, but sometimes may last for two days. Mourners come to the place where the body is laid out for viewing, to pay their respect to the deceased and their family. The deceased ones family greets the relatives and friends, and are consoled by them. Children usually do not attend the "showing" because of their age and sensibilities. It's also customary for family and friends to get together at their home, and bring food and drinks, and reminisce about the deceased. It is felt that by talking  about the deceased one, that their memory will live on in their hearts. Also, at the funeral, it is customary for the family to say something about the loved one. Usually it's about what the loved one meant to them, or a nice memory of the person. When it comes to the actual burial, the religious leader would say a prayer, and then the deceased is laid in the ground. Now that's pretty much the most common way. It's also the Christian type of funeral. Now, Jewish funerals are different. My brother in law is Jewish, and he practices the Jewish religion. Their funerals are a bit different from the Christian one. I will send you some information on it. I haven't been to a Jewish funeral in a long time. I don't remember all the traditions. I never asked you how you felt about me being part Jewish.  Although I'm a Christian, I have Jewish roots on my mother side of the family. How do you feel about me? I think of you as my friend and brother, I don't consider where you're from or your religion, or your politics. I'm your friend. I accept you the way you are.  I never thought about what you might think of where I'm from, or my religion, or my political views, and so forth. What's your opinion on Americans in general. (not the government, but the average citizen)? How do we seem to you? I'm just a little curious. I grew up so differently than most. I have had the privilege of being exposed to many different nationalities while growing up. I've had the honor of having wonderful mentors of all nationalities while growing up. I've traveled a lot, and found the similarities in all people. So when I look at another person of a different race or nationality, I see my mother, my father, my sister, my brother in them. We're truly all the same in heart. Don't you agree? I know, I may sound like a dreamer or that I live in a fantasy land. But what I say comes from my heart. I truly believe it. It's probably my religious up bringing. In the Christian faith, we are taught to love our fellow man. When we give to those in need, we're taught that it's like giving unto God himself. Because that's how God wants us to live our lives. Not all Christians follow these things, but they are supposed to. I hope I don't sound as if I'm preaching to you. I'm just sharing my thoughts with you. I know I said this before to you, but I'm glad we are friends. I hope you know that you can tell me anything, without fear of judgment or criticism. Good friends are like that. I want you to think of me as a good friend. well, I better say good-bye for now. It's getting late, and I'm a little tired from work. I'm going to go to sleep. Take care my friend. Best wishes to you and your family.                                        Your friend,                                         David