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| The Man on the ladder |
The
man on the ladder is a sentry. He focuses his gaze on the outside.
The man on the ladder never wavers. He exhibits supreme fidelity to
his purpose. His commitment is unbounded. He is alone. There are
regrets, but he knows his calling and serves. He is selfless, he is
a concrete truth.
The
truth used to be a different reality. The man on the ladder was once
an ordinary person. He had no loyalty pledges of devotion to
community. He loved his town. He sacrificed for his town. But it was not in the top three in his hierarchy of dedication. He served God, himself, and his family. Back then he was simply
Joseph the Carpenter. He had a fair skinned wife with scarlet hair and two
sublime girls. He worked hard building homes and businesses for his neighbors and
provided a comfortable life for his family. He warmly embraced his
wife at every opportunity and played silly games with his girls.
Things would change.
A
darkness trespassed upon the once virgin earth of their home.
Treacherous shadows invaded the unassuming tranquility of the
settlement. Darkness is the absence of light. This was figurative,
not literal. The invaders appeared normal and presented no
threatening ambiance about them, at first. They were charming. They
were amiable. They were three.
The
Tall One was slender and had a voice like sandpaper. He smoked
tobacco in a mahogany pipe, its aroma announcing his ubiquity. His
hair was the color raven. The Fat One rarely spoke. He trended
toward the edges. Unremarkable in every way and demanded no regard.
He was just present. The Leader wore a black lorado hat. His voice
was subdued yet had authority. If not for a lurid scar upon his left
cheek, he would have been handsome.
They
arrived at the village on horseback down the lone road leading to the
plaza. It was an overcast autumn day. They brought innocuous
salutations to the residents. They rented three rooms at the hotel
next to the apothecary. It was a modest hotel. The beds were small
and the baths not private. Normally there were vacancies and now
occupancy was full.
Little
did the good folk know that rage would abound. Their bright and
colorful world would fade to a troubled sepia and their uncorrupted
lives would wither. The Unholy Trinity had arrived.
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| This is a photo from the Schüppel photo collection. I believe it's my Opa. My Opa in no way inspires this story, though the photo does. I don't know why, but I love this picture. 1968(ish) |
I have always loved this song and think it goes really well with this post:
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