by Darrel Mulloy

I recently observed, not celebrated, my seventy-second birthday, and it gave me pause to reflect what I had observed prior to that day. I have lived through most of FDR’s administration, all of Harry Truman, Dwight Eisenhower, the short span of JFK, all of LBJ, Nixon, the non elected Gerald Ford, Jimmy Carter, Ronald Reagan, Bush the first, Bill Clinton, Bush the second, and now, The One himself, the messiah.

One thing that has been consistent throughout all of those administrations is that the federal, rather central, government is a train wreck that is on its way to happen, and we, all of us, are passengers on that fated train. Like passengers on a train headed too fast for a curve in the track, we can (at least most of us can) see the impending danger in front of us, and most have a strong suspicion that we will not survive the coming wreck. We are also afraid to jump off of the doomed train for fear that we will be hurt when we make our exit. There may be rough ground outside and we may suffer pain and injury. It seems we would all rather take our chances with a train that we know will most likely take us to our end. Such is the human condition.

After seventy-two years, maybe I’m a little braver than I used to be, or maybe it’s because I’m not quite ready to concede to the final arbiter. I am not willing to ride this train to its final resting place. I’m all for taking my chances and jumping off, although it might hurt a little at first.

I found an open door on this doomed train and I have decided to rush through it. It is marked “Texas Nationalist Movement” and it promises not that we won’t be hurt if we jump through it, but that we will stand a better chance of surviving the upcoming disaster than if we remain on the doomed train.

Many of the current passengers are hoping that somehow, a miracle will occur and the train will take on a new crew and a new engineer, and all will be better; but the train has had many such personnel changes, and each new group seems to push the throttle a little further, speeding the train toward its ultimate end.

It’s been a long ride, and some parts of it were enjoyable. There were periods when I was proud of the countryside I saw passing by. There had been large industrial areas where most of our merchandise was manufactured, huge patches of farmland teeming with corn, wheat, and other food crops, ample enough to feed the world, There were people at work both in the cities and in the countryside making a living and feeding their families, saving a little bit for a rainy day and paying off mortgages on a small homes that they found affordable.

I saw people of many ethnic backgrounds working side by side, and I recall seeing some places where they did not, but they were all working and taking care of their families, and they all spoke a common language, saluted the same flag, most attended similar churches, some instead went on Saturday to synagogues, and we considered ourselves a Judeo-Christian nation. We had people who celebrated their religion in different ways, but we didn’t object to the way they worshiped. We celebrated Christmas, Easter, and Thanksgiving by recognizing who it was we gave thanks to and celebrated, and why. We didn’t ask those of other religions to comply with our beliefs, but we allowed them to join in the festivities if they desired, and most, it seemed, did, without objection.

I recall hot summers and cool autumns leading into cold winters followed by warming spring times that led back into hot summers. In fact I can recall nearly seventy-two of those periods with little if any change in the cycles, with the exception of when I lived in climates where winters lasted longer and in others where summer was the dominant season. Now we are being told that we, that is mankind, are dooming this train we are on because it is getting too overcrowded and there is not enough food in the dining car to feed all of us, and beside that we are all exhaling too much, causing the train to heat up and making it too uncomfortable for some of the passengers. We are told that if we continue to exhale, we will be charged more for our tickets as the train continues on its journey. Our train engineer and the conductors don’t seem to know how to operate this train, and it scares me that they don’t, but it doesn’t surprise me. I have seen too many such engineers and conductors on this train, and none seem to be able to keep the inevitable from happening.

There is a spur line with an engineer that seems to know how to operate a train. His name is Daniel Miller and he wants passengers for his little train. The big problem is that in order to catch a ride on his train, we will have to abandon the one we are on while it is still on its way to the crash. There are rocky grounds outside, and the train is moving pretty fast toward its end, but I am jumping. I hope there are others on board willing to take the risk of minor injury in order to get a seat on the train that is running to freedom and independence.

I hope to see you at the depot as our new train fills up.

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