Ultrconservative
Inactive
Be nice, this constitutres my first ever effort: all opinions are welcome.
As he leaned back against the clump of maples next to the fire, Tim reflected upon how life was destined to do only one thing. Change.
For, in fact, this would probably be the last open fire he would be able to enjoy in his lifetime.
So sad he thought, recollecting all the pleasant times he and his extended family had enjoyed over the years, basking in the warmth and light of late autumn and early spring fires.
Many a birthday party, weenie roasts, 4rth of July, Memorial and Labor day, had all been celebrated and enjoyed in the warm glow of a brushy pile of debris casually collected by children and grandchildren from the twenty surrounding acres.
God himself seemed to provide the fuel for those occasions, never did a fire require more than a brief trip through the woods to yield enough fuel for any impromptu gathering that demanded the sacrifice of a little of Gods’ bounty, in exchange for a burnt dog or a melted marshmallow, or even just a warm butt.
Children and grandchildren, happy to escape the confines of whatever particular urban environment they existed in - long enough to burn the hell out of a wiener and a couple of dozen marshmallows and to consume them with a glee that was matched by nothing else in their lives.
TV, Nintendo, the X box, nothing seems to delight a young child as does the time spent with those they love in front of an open fire. It is down right magical at times.
But, the magic was over.
It is now December 31, 2007. Tim’s’ holdings were to fall under the control of the UN’s’ Treaty on bio-diversity, beginning at midnight that very night. At that time the fire would become a crime against all humanity. A crime punishable by, fine, imprisonment, death, or forfeiture of property. Depending, of course, upon the animus of the environmental courts in charge of hearing such matters.
However, Tim had no problem with that, his fire would be extinguished before 12:00 am, and he would never light one again. At least, not without, the requisite permits fees and notice. For that was now the way the world “worked”, now. Anyone could do as they wished, just like always, provided all the proper authorities had been notified, and all the proper permits had been secured.
We are still, naturally, protected by the Constitution of the US of A. Anyone can do anything they wish, provided of course, that they have filed the appropriate permits, request and paperwork, and paid the appropriate fees.
This is, after all, still America.
Tim let his mind wander as he enjoyed the heat from the duff and forest trash warm his aching legs. Back to when he was a young man in Wyoming, in the winter of 1976…. The heat from slash burned in a 55-gallon barrel, in that weather meant the difference between life and death in the cold - ever so cold - weather. A bureaucrat demanding a permit for a fire at that time would have resulted in a dead or frozen bureaucrat.
That pervasive cold is what had driven him south, all the way to Tennessee, never, EVER, to be that cold again. His only goal when he turned 18 was to never be that cold again.
After meandering through the Northeast, the West, and the Deep South, he finally decided to try Tennessee, The high country along the highland rim, back where God and the hill-billies live. They had mountains, hills, and even more important water!
Rough country, not fit for cattle, corn or easy life. But, beautiful country, country that will take your every ounce of being to tame, and then nurture your very soul when you can no longer fight it.
When he arrived, he discovered that the mentality he arrived with, was just what had existed here all along:
He had come home. Odd that his Granddads had never found this oasis for he knew that they had searched for it for years.
Descent honest folk, that really appreciated a steadfast neighbor, a good man, or women, honesty and hard work.
The local accent dropped into his voice without his notice. The tenacious desire to live without help from “outside”, was the norm. He didn’t look to government for help…he deigned to help government get the hell out of his way.
The old “Bulls of the woods” gradually accepted his citizenship, …. Frequently at the end of a shotgun. The law came to know that he represented stability in the extreme end of their enforcement areas, a local reinforcement of their will, if you will. But only if their will was just
He had finally come home, and his people were happy to meet him there. And his people, in the form of his descendants were glad for what he had found, and shortly they too moved to be with him in Gods’ country. Or, at least very closely nearby
Not too bad for a sorry assed Wyoming Hill-Billy just looking for a warm fire.
Tim checked his watch, 11:30pm, time to go he thought to himself. Freeing his “firehose” from it’s mount, he peed out what was left of the fire and collected his gear. Time to see what I’ll be doing illegal tomorrow he thought. As he made his way to the single wide he and his wife considered home..
As he leaned back against the clump of maples next to the fire, Tim reflected upon how life was destined to do only one thing. Change.
For, in fact, this would probably be the last open fire he would be able to enjoy in his lifetime.
So sad he thought, recollecting all the pleasant times he and his extended family had enjoyed over the years, basking in the warmth and light of late autumn and early spring fires.
Many a birthday party, weenie roasts, 4rth of July, Memorial and Labor day, had all been celebrated and enjoyed in the warm glow of a brushy pile of debris casually collected by children and grandchildren from the twenty surrounding acres.
God himself seemed to provide the fuel for those occasions, never did a fire require more than a brief trip through the woods to yield enough fuel for any impromptu gathering that demanded the sacrifice of a little of Gods’ bounty, in exchange for a burnt dog or a melted marshmallow, or even just a warm butt.
Children and grandchildren, happy to escape the confines of whatever particular urban environment they existed in - long enough to burn the hell out of a wiener and a couple of dozen marshmallows and to consume them with a glee that was matched by nothing else in their lives.
TV, Nintendo, the X box, nothing seems to delight a young child as does the time spent with those they love in front of an open fire. It is down right magical at times.
But, the magic was over.
It is now December 31, 2007. Tim’s’ holdings were to fall under the control of the UN’s’ Treaty on bio-diversity, beginning at midnight that very night. At that time the fire would become a crime against all humanity. A crime punishable by, fine, imprisonment, death, or forfeiture of property. Depending, of course, upon the animus of the environmental courts in charge of hearing such matters.
However, Tim had no problem with that, his fire would be extinguished before 12:00 am, and he would never light one again. At least, not without, the requisite permits fees and notice. For that was now the way the world “worked”, now. Anyone could do as they wished, just like always, provided all the proper authorities had been notified, and all the proper permits had been secured.
We are still, naturally, protected by the Constitution of the US of A. Anyone can do anything they wish, provided of course, that they have filed the appropriate permits, request and paperwork, and paid the appropriate fees.
This is, after all, still America.
Tim let his mind wander as he enjoyed the heat from the duff and forest trash warm his aching legs. Back to when he was a young man in Wyoming, in the winter of 1976…. The heat from slash burned in a 55-gallon barrel, in that weather meant the difference between life and death in the cold - ever so cold - weather. A bureaucrat demanding a permit for a fire at that time would have resulted in a dead or frozen bureaucrat.
That pervasive cold is what had driven him south, all the way to Tennessee, never, EVER, to be that cold again. His only goal when he turned 18 was to never be that cold again.
After meandering through the Northeast, the West, and the Deep South, he finally decided to try Tennessee, The high country along the highland rim, back where God and the hill-billies live. They had mountains, hills, and even more important water!
Rough country, not fit for cattle, corn or easy life. But, beautiful country, country that will take your every ounce of being to tame, and then nurture your very soul when you can no longer fight it.
When he arrived, he discovered that the mentality he arrived with, was just what had existed here all along:
He had come home. Odd that his Granddads had never found this oasis for he knew that they had searched for it for years.
Descent honest folk, that really appreciated a steadfast neighbor, a good man, or women, honesty and hard work.
The local accent dropped into his voice without his notice. The tenacious desire to live without help from “outside”, was the norm. He didn’t look to government for help…he deigned to help government get the hell out of his way.
The old “Bulls of the woods” gradually accepted his citizenship, …. Frequently at the end of a shotgun. The law came to know that he represented stability in the extreme end of their enforcement areas, a local reinforcement of their will, if you will. But only if their will was just
He had finally come home, and his people were happy to meet him there. And his people, in the form of his descendants were glad for what he had found, and shortly they too moved to be with him in Gods’ country. Or, at least very closely nearby
Not too bad for a sorry assed Wyoming Hill-Billy just looking for a warm fire.
Tim checked his watch, 11:30pm, time to go he thought to himself. Freeing his “firehose” from it’s mount, he peed out what was left of the fire and collected his gear. Time to see what I’ll be doing illegal tomorrow he thought. As he made his way to the single wide he and his wife considered home..
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