A few weeks ago, there was a large renovation project taking place at my apartment complex. They were replacing the roofs of the units and doing some painting.
After this renovation was complete, I noticed that the workers had left a few things of value behind. One of these things was a roll of industrial garbage bags, each probably 50 gallons large. There might have been 10 or so bags in the roll.
Upon finding it during a morning walk with my dog, I grabbed the roll and took it home with me. Who can't find a use for some heavy duty garbage bags?
Yesterday, I decided to put one of these bags to use. It was a bit cold and damp after work but I decided to spend some time picking up trash on the block that I live on. It's not that there's a trash problem in Westminster...it's quite the opposite in fact. This place is remarkably clean.
So I started off on my quest for errant trash - big ass trash bag in hand. What I found along the way didn't really surprise me but I did smile after coming across a woman's discarded shopping list, which I found soaked and crumpled in the roots of a roadside bush. The list went something like this:
- 1 bra
- 2 panties
- razor
- toilet paper (fluffy kind)
- hand lotion
- food
A few of the items on this list were scratched off, presumably, because the woman had managed to buy the items. I'm also presuming she is in fact a woman, barring the possibility that it could have been a man shopping for ladies undergarments either for his partner or for himself, were he to have a fetish for such dress.
Anyway, as I was standing there on the side of the road with cars zooming by and me growing increasingly wetter due to the falling drizzle, I smiled. It was more of a knowing grin actually, because I realized I was holding a piece of paper that at some point meant something to someone. It, at a time, had real value, because it was a way of helping someone accomplish what most would consider a pretty banal task, namely shopping for underwear and toiletries.
And it just happened that I ended up being the one to find this list, assist it on it's journey into the trash bin, and enjoy a brief moment of involvement in someone else's life without their knowing.
I ended up gathering about 15 pounds of trash yesterday over the course of an hour and a half.
When I returned home I greeted my dog with a hug and concluded the evening with some reading and a few pieces of pizza.
Thursday, May 13, 2010
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Lyman Ward Military Academy Hazing, Beatings article
http://www.insidehazing.com/letters_view.php?id=8
The above link describes the atrocities at LWMA (Lyman Ward Military Academy) as they're told by the parents of cadets attending the academy.
In 2005 at least 8 lawsuits were filed against Lyman Ward Military School, and to this day at least a dozen are still unresolved.
http://www.insidehazing.com/letters_view.php?id=8
It's stuff like this that gets swept UNDER THE RUG and removed from internet search engines in a pathetic (yet effective) attempt by the academy to keep these awful incidents under wraps.
The above link describes the atrocities at LWMA (Lyman Ward Military Academy) as they're told by the parents of cadets attending the academy.
In 2005 at least 8 lawsuits were filed against Lyman Ward Military School, and to this day at least a dozen are still unresolved.
http://www.insidehazing.com/letters_view.php?id=8
It's stuff like this that gets swept UNDER THE RUG and removed from internet search engines in a pathetic (yet effective) attempt by the academy to keep these awful incidents under wraps.
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Patchwork Peace
I began my day today with a certain peace that I haven't felt in a while.
I can remember ending my day yesterday with a long meditation session just before bed, and I can't help but think that the early retiring and focused relaxation contributed to this morning's levity.
But it's more than that.
I'm tripping through memories of when I was a boy, remembering the very specific calm I experienced when I sat in a stream with only my shorts on, letting the flow of the water course over my shoulders. Laying down on the rocks in that stream was sort of a respite from the confusing, awkward time I was having as a teenager. Now that I am older, I appreciate more the value of completely forgetting the worries of the world and retreating into the mind for solace.
The true, undeniable peace I can reach through meditation and focused relaxation puts any artificial means of euphoria to shame. 20 minutes of deadening my thoughts and completely isolating my consciousness from external stimulus is equal to or better than any drug I've tried.
5-6 years ago, this kind of disciplined rest would have been impossible. I was far too concerned with ego and projected image to really be able to cut off the world and reside in my own mind.
Many things since my childhood have contributed to my current level of peace, not the least of which is music. Then there's my attention to physical health and nutrition. Also, the intentional simplicity in my life attained by not constantly adding material things to my domain and always opting for the less complex lifestyle.
I'm excited to see where else I can go with this kind of living. I'm curious about which patch will be added that elevates me to yet a higher, more transcendent way of living.
I can remember ending my day yesterday with a long meditation session just before bed, and I can't help but think that the early retiring and focused relaxation contributed to this morning's levity.
But it's more than that.
I'm tripping through memories of when I was a boy, remembering the very specific calm I experienced when I sat in a stream with only my shorts on, letting the flow of the water course over my shoulders. Laying down on the rocks in that stream was sort of a respite from the confusing, awkward time I was having as a teenager. Now that I am older, I appreciate more the value of completely forgetting the worries of the world and retreating into the mind for solace.
The true, undeniable peace I can reach through meditation and focused relaxation puts any artificial means of euphoria to shame. 20 minutes of deadening my thoughts and completely isolating my consciousness from external stimulus is equal to or better than any drug I've tried.
5-6 years ago, this kind of disciplined rest would have been impossible. I was far too concerned with ego and projected image to really be able to cut off the world and reside in my own mind.
Many things since my childhood have contributed to my current level of peace, not the least of which is music. Then there's my attention to physical health and nutrition. Also, the intentional simplicity in my life attained by not constantly adding material things to my domain and always opting for the less complex lifestyle.
I'm excited to see where else I can go with this kind of living. I'm curious about which patch will be added that elevates me to yet a higher, more transcendent way of living.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
"Hurricane Season"
Hajar walked along the arid and litter-strewn beach as he always had, at about 6am in the morning, killing time before his father picked him and his two brothers up to go work in the factory in town.
Life in Hajar's tiny town in Mauritania, north Africa, was simple. There was never any prospect of becoming rich or going anywhere beyond the 10 square miles they called 'home', and yet somehow everyone managed to stay happy.
Hajar had been carrying with him a small stick - he was using it to prod at objects of interest. There was no shortage of unique things here and there, that washed up on the beach from who knows where. One day, with his brothers, Hajar found a golden necklace that he traded for a new pair of shoes at the market.
As he was just about to head back for work, an object caught Hajar's eye, about 20 feet out from the shore, gently bobbing in the morning wake.
ما هو هذا؟
"What is that?"
It was a square piece of leather about 10 inches from corner-to-corner. It had a very strange, fluorescent orange coating to it, as if whoever discarded this had intended for it to be found again.
The underside of the object had a 1-inch thick piece of Styrofoam glued to it, presumably to ensure its buoyancy.
هناك رسال& #1577; هنا... في الوس& .
"There is a message here...in the center."
Hajar peeled back a thin piece of coating to reveal a very detailed, handwritten note. He took special care to unfold it and attempt to decipher it.
It was written in French.
La saison des ouragans est d'origine humaine. Des quantités massives de produits chimiques sont déversés dans l'Atlantique par les cargos intercontinentaux, de stimuler les conditions météorologiques catastrophiques. Les preuves peuvent être trouvés à 14.09433 latitude, longitude 31.31965. S'il vous plaît aider. Les gouvernements du monde derrière tout cela.
Hajar heard his brothers calling for him - it was time to head to the factory. Not knowing French and thus considering the message useless, he threw the object into a trash heap on his way to work.
It would never be seen again.
________________________
Hurricane season is man-made. Massive amounts of chemicals are dumped into the Atlantic by intercontinental freighters, to spur catastrophic weather patterns. Proof can be found at 14.09433 latitude, 31.31965 longitude. Please help. World governments behind this.
________________________
Life in Hajar's tiny town in Mauritania, north Africa, was simple. There was never any prospect of becoming rich or going anywhere beyond the 10 square miles they called 'home', and yet somehow everyone managed to stay happy.
Hajar had been carrying with him a small stick - he was using it to prod at objects of interest. There was no shortage of unique things here and there, that washed up on the beach from who knows where. One day, with his brothers, Hajar found a golden necklace that he traded for a new pair of shoes at the market.
As he was just about to head back for work, an object caught Hajar's eye, about 20 feet out from the shore, gently bobbing in the morning wake.
ما هو هذا؟
"What is that?"
It was a square piece of leather about 10 inches from corner-to-corner. It had a very strange, fluorescent orange coating to it, as if whoever discarded this had intended for it to be found again.
The underside of the object had a 1-inch thick piece of Styrofoam glued to it, presumably to ensure its buoyancy.
هناك رسال& #1577; هنا... في الوس& .
"There is a message here...in the center."
Hajar peeled back a thin piece of coating to reveal a very detailed, handwritten note. He took special care to unfold it and attempt to decipher it.
It was written in French.
La saison des ouragans est d'origine humaine. Des quantités massives de produits chimiques sont déversés dans l'Atlantique par les cargos intercontinentaux, de stimuler les conditions météorologiques catastrophiques. Les preuves peuvent être trouvés à 14.09433 latitude, longitude 31.31965. S'il vous plaît aider. Les gouvernements du monde derrière tout cela.
Hajar heard his brothers calling for him - it was time to head to the factory. Not knowing French and thus considering the message useless, he threw the object into a trash heap on his way to work.
It would never be seen again.
________________________
Hurricane season is man-made. Massive amounts of chemicals are dumped into the Atlantic by intercontinental freighters, to spur catastrophic weather patterns. Proof can be found at 14.09433 latitude, 31.31965 longitude. Please help. World governments behind this.
________________________
Friday, August 28, 2009
"Not Enough Gasoline"
>>>>>>> WELCOME TO THE X9-MARAUDER NAVIGATION MENU <<<<<<<
...
VERIFYING IDENTITY
...
HELLO MAJOR THOMAS JENSON D'ARCHOUS - USN #69148830XQ - DOB 04/22/2231 - SPECIES: HUMAN MALE - PLANETARY ORIGIN: EARTH - COMMAND POSITION: POINT COMMAND
...
CURRENT POSITION OF X9-MARAUDER: X = 0924429, Y = 9611049, Z = 5934440, PLANETARY PLANE 211B12 - WARNING: CURRENT LOCATION OUTSIDE OF TETHRA COMMUNICATION ZONE. NO COMMUNICATION TO TETHRA AVAILABLE AT THIS TIME. WARNING: CURRENT LOCATION OUTSIDE OF TETHRA EMERGENCY BEACON DETECTION ZONE. NO EMERGENCY BEACON DETECTION AVAILABLE AT THIS TIME.
...
WHAT IS YOUR QUERY?
...
...
Thomas' sweat accumulates on his pale face as his weak fingers type commands into his Marauder's control panel. The systems controlling the Marauder's cabin environment are failing. Oxygen levels in the control pod are borderline sustainable. Carbon dioxide and nitrogen gas levels inch up by the second. The nearest Galactic Aid Station is 23,901,811 miles away.
Thomas punches in the request for an update on the rest of the starship's crew.
...
SCANNING HABITABLE ZONES...PLEASE WAIT.
...
...
...
...
...
46 ENTITIES DETECTED. SCAN FOR VITAL STATISTICS, MAJOR?
...
Thomas, his vision blurred by the enlarging veins in his eyes and his voice obfuscated by the build up of blood and mucous, manages to speak.
"Yes," he says.
...
PROCESSING
...
...
42 ENTITIES DECEASED. 4 ENTITIES ACTIVE.
"We still have survivors..." Thomas mutters to himself. "Must...reach aid station..."
With the little energy he had left, Thomas keys in the coordinates for the aid station, then sits back in his chair and waits.
...
NEW COORDINATES RECEIVED. PROCESSING...
...
...
Thomas feels his consciousness slipping from him as he looks over his shoulder, through the cabin window, out at space...solitary, black, cold space.
There are no sounds and no light. There is no life at all.
An empty ration packet floats by his face as Thomas begins convulsing, his bloodshot eyes rolling back into his head.
...
PROCESSING
...
COORDINATES CONFIRMED. GALACTIC AID STATION #T-11EWA-TETHRA.
...
...
ATTENTION MAJOR THOMAS - INSUFFICIENT PROPULSION RESOURCES. DESTINATION UNREACHABLE.
...
Thomas' body stills. Froth from his mouth begins drifting forward into the cabin. His eyes still open, Thomas' corpse remains buckled into the cold, grey, metal command station.
...there is complete silence.
...
...
...
WHAT IS YOUR QUERY?
...
VERIFYING IDENTITY
...
HELLO MAJOR THOMAS JENSON D'ARCHOUS - USN #69148830XQ - DOB 04/22/2231 - SPECIES: HUMAN MALE - PLANETARY ORIGIN: EARTH - COMMAND POSITION: POINT COMMAND
...
CURRENT POSITION OF X9-MARAUDER: X = 0924429, Y = 9611049, Z = 5934440, PLANETARY PLANE 211B12 - WARNING: CURRENT LOCATION OUTSIDE OF TETHRA COMMUNICATION ZONE. NO COMMUNICATION TO TETHRA AVAILABLE AT THIS TIME. WARNING: CURRENT LOCATION OUTSIDE OF TETHRA EMERGENCY BEACON DETECTION ZONE. NO EMERGENCY BEACON DETECTION AVAILABLE AT THIS TIME.
...
WHAT IS YOUR QUERY?
...
...
Thomas' sweat accumulates on his pale face as his weak fingers type commands into his Marauder's control panel. The systems controlling the Marauder's cabin environment are failing. Oxygen levels in the control pod are borderline sustainable. Carbon dioxide and nitrogen gas levels inch up by the second. The nearest Galactic Aid Station is 23,901,811 miles away.
Thomas punches in the request for an update on the rest of the starship's crew.
...
SCANNING HABITABLE ZONES...PLEASE WAIT.
...
...
...
...
...
46 ENTITIES DETECTED. SCAN FOR VITAL STATISTICS, MAJOR?
...
Thomas, his vision blurred by the enlarging veins in his eyes and his voice obfuscated by the build up of blood and mucous, manages to speak.
"Yes," he says.
...
PROCESSING
...
...
42 ENTITIES DECEASED. 4 ENTITIES ACTIVE.
"We still have survivors..." Thomas mutters to himself. "Must...reach aid station..."
With the little energy he had left, Thomas keys in the coordinates for the aid station, then sits back in his chair and waits.
...
NEW COORDINATES RECEIVED. PROCESSING...
...
...
Thomas feels his consciousness slipping from him as he looks over his shoulder, through the cabin window, out at space...solitary, black, cold space.
There are no sounds and no light. There is no life at all.
An empty ration packet floats by his face as Thomas begins convulsing, his bloodshot eyes rolling back into his head.
...
PROCESSING
...
COORDINATES CONFIRMED. GALACTIC AID STATION #T-11EWA-TETHRA.
...
...
ATTENTION MAJOR THOMAS - INSUFFICIENT PROPULSION RESOURCES. DESTINATION UNREACHABLE.
...
Thomas' body stills. Froth from his mouth begins drifting forward into the cabin. His eyes still open, Thomas' corpse remains buckled into the cold, grey, metal command station.
...there is complete silence.
...
...
...
WHAT IS YOUR QUERY?
Friday, August 14, 2009
Comprehending the ultra-large
Lately I've been conducting little brain exercises.
"What, you mean like doing crosswords and stuff?" you might ask.
No, I mean exercises in comprehension of large numbers and space. I have been trying to truly understand how big our galaxy and universe is, and inversely, how small I am and the rest of the world is in comparison.
NASA and the operators of the Hubble space telescope now tell us that our 'universe' contains over 100 billion galaxies, each of them themselves containing billions of stars.
What's more, the distances between the 'ends' of our universe easily breach the 10 billion light year mark - a measure of distance that is truly incomprehensible.
...but still I try.
I sit here at work at times when I have a few minutes in between phone calls or meetings, and I try to really grasp the idea of even one million. That figure - one million - is tossed around so frivolously these days; there are so many millionaires and so many people talking about the 'millions of people' who are affected by things, and the 'millions of small businesses' that are thriving/dying.
But really - do I truly understand the gravity of one million? If I do, does that mean I can just mentally multiply that by 1,000 and instantly comprehend one billion?
I don't think it's that simple.
For me at least, my mind starts to wander after about a thousand. I do believe I understand literally what a thousand means...that it is composed of 100 tens and, as far as images in my mind go, that it's a number I can work with. It's easy.
But put the number at 10,000 or more...and before long it just becomes a number. There no longer is a mental representation of tiny dots, or apples, or flowers, or whatever it is I'm trying to count in my head. The sheer volume of 10,000 becomes way too much for my feeble brain to keep track of.
Trying, however...really trying to keep track of the additions of yet more - and more still - to whatever number I'm 'comfortable' with, is a fun challenge.
The exercise goes on and on, and before long I throw my hands up and just give in to what is essentially infinity. To me, one billion might as well be infinity, for I couldn't count that high even if I dedicated my life to doing so. But still it is humbling, challenging and fun to really try and understand just how grand time and space are.
Think about it - our solar system is roughly 4.6 billion years old. Modern humans have been around on Earth for about 200,000 years. 200,000 into 4.6 billion is 23,000. So we've been 'around' for 1/23,000th of the time that our solar system has been alive.
To further bend the mind - current theory and observations suggest that the universe in sum is between 13.5 and 14 billion years old, roughly 3 times as old as our solar system is.
Do these numbers even MEAN anything to the modern layperson? CAN they mean anything? Or are we destined to be forever ignorant of the true magnitude of volumes?
We are human and inherently limited in our abilities to think. But, pushing the boundaries and trying to really understand huge numbers is time well spent. :)
"What, you mean like doing crosswords and stuff?" you might ask.
No, I mean exercises in comprehension of large numbers and space. I have been trying to truly understand how big our galaxy and universe is, and inversely, how small I am and the rest of the world is in comparison.
NASA and the operators of the Hubble space telescope now tell us that our 'universe' contains over 100 billion galaxies, each of them themselves containing billions of stars.
What's more, the distances between the 'ends' of our universe easily breach the 10 billion light year mark - a measure of distance that is truly incomprehensible.
...but still I try.
I sit here at work at times when I have a few minutes in between phone calls or meetings, and I try to really grasp the idea of even one million. That figure - one million - is tossed around so frivolously these days; there are so many millionaires and so many people talking about the 'millions of people' who are affected by things, and the 'millions of small businesses' that are thriving/dying.
But really - do I truly understand the gravity of one million? If I do, does that mean I can just mentally multiply that by 1,000 and instantly comprehend one billion?
I don't think it's that simple.
For me at least, my mind starts to wander after about a thousand. I do believe I understand literally what a thousand means...that it is composed of 100 tens and, as far as images in my mind go, that it's a number I can work with. It's easy.
But put the number at 10,000 or more...and before long it just becomes a number. There no longer is a mental representation of tiny dots, or apples, or flowers, or whatever it is I'm trying to count in my head. The sheer volume of 10,000 becomes way too much for my feeble brain to keep track of.
Trying, however...really trying to keep track of the additions of yet more - and more still - to whatever number I'm 'comfortable' with, is a fun challenge.
The exercise goes on and on, and before long I throw my hands up and just give in to what is essentially infinity. To me, one billion might as well be infinity, for I couldn't count that high even if I dedicated my life to doing so. But still it is humbling, challenging and fun to really try and understand just how grand time and space are.
Think about it - our solar system is roughly 4.6 billion years old. Modern humans have been around on Earth for about 200,000 years. 200,000 into 4.6 billion is 23,000. So we've been 'around' for 1/23,000th of the time that our solar system has been alive.
To further bend the mind - current theory and observations suggest that the universe in sum is between 13.5 and 14 billion years old, roughly 3 times as old as our solar system is.
Do these numbers even MEAN anything to the modern layperson? CAN they mean anything? Or are we destined to be forever ignorant of the true magnitude of volumes?
We are human and inherently limited in our abilities to think. But, pushing the boundaries and trying to really understand huge numbers is time well spent. :)
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
What ever became of William Ward?
While most other teenagers were attending prom, going on dates, getting high after school and being, in general, average 'teenagers', I was suffering through 5 years at an Army-based military academy in rural Alabama.
It's not that I was a bad kid - I needed no reform and had no criminal intent beyond perhaps finding ways to get an extra credit on the pinball machine using a slug and some thread. No, it's not that I belonged at military school, but the memories that place gave me, I would discover later in life, would prove to be the most unique and resourceful of any others from my childhood.
There is one memory in particular that I have, which has stayed with me throughout the years since graduation in the summer of 1997. This memory constantly reminds me of the importance of compassion and respect; as well it reminds me that the people in this world who appear to be the most cruel, uncaring and soulless of us are just as human as anyone else who has ever walked the earth. They simply suffer more than most.
This memory is of a young man by the name of William Ward.
When I entered the academy, I was in the 8th grade. I was an awkward, chubby little redheaded kid and I didn't know a thing about drilling with a rifle, shining shoes or taking orders barked at me by someone my age. Needless to say, I was in great need of some sort of guidance - some sort of beacon to help ease my transition from a life of video games and fishing to one of regimented days, sleep deprived nights and egregious amounts of violence.
I found that guidance from many of the other cadets, many of whom had been at the academy for years prior to my arrival. They knew the ropes and they knew what to tell a new cadet (also called a 'scrub') in order to have the new recruit 'on their side'. It was very akin to prison in the way that social hierarchies sprouted.
Atop one such social hierarchy stood William Ward. He was a boy of average height and build, and he was quite ugly. His mouth was much larger, proportionately, than the other features of his face. He had large, clumsy feet and goofy ears. When I first met him I thought I was looking at Alfred E. Neuman from the MAD magazines I had so loved.
The very first thing William Ward said to me when I met him was, "I bet my dick is bigger than yours."
I am dead serious. That was the first sentence that came out of his (large) mouth, and he was being very sincere. This wasn't a joke, and at the academy penis size meant a LOT. I didn't know this at the time. His comment sort of threw me off, and I'm not sure exactly how I responded. I just remember him saying that firstly.
William Ward apparently came from a family with a lot of money. Incidentally, the Ward family had VERY tight connections to the administration of the school, and so this ugly, foul-mouthed young man was lauded by his peers for really only two reasons: he had a very large penis, and he was favored by those in command of the school thanks to generous financial contributions from his family.
This made for a perfect storm.
William Ward became a ruler of us. It didn't matter that he was ugly, stupid or, as I would find out later, completely illiterate. He had connections, money, and a big dick. He could do whatever he wanted. And so he did.
William Ward became a platoon sergeant in Charlie company, where he was basically given free reign to control a group of about 15 cadets, bending them to do as he wished and using them as pawns to further his after-school exploits often times involving hazing, drug use and other debauchery. He could do no wrong - the amount of power that William Ward had was unreal, especially considering his young age and puny amount of life experience.
When it is said that power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely, it rings truest with me, because I have seen it. I saw it in William Ward.
For 3 years I endured the constant berating of this young man. At every opportunity, William Ward would seek to prove his superiority by either whipping out his penis or punching someone bigger than he was, because he knew there would be no ramifications. He wouldn't have to answer to anyone. It didn't matter that he was an ugly runt who couldn't read and failed just about all his classes. He had street cred at the academy.
When William Ward graduated, I watched as this young man left the school and entered the real world, failing out of college and resorting to a life of blue collar servitude in a completely foreign and, I'm sure for him, scary environment. I can only imaging the shock when he realized that he actually had to be able to read in order to get a job...in order to go shopping, balance his checkbook or really just function as a human being in civilized society.
Looking back on it all, I can only feel compassion and sorrow for that guy. William Ward was probably the most callous, mean and disrespectful young man to ever exist in 1995, but it wasn't his fault. The corruptions of a military system instilled into the life of someone who had been born ugly and who never learned to read - these things would create a monster who would eventually be tamed into becoming, I'm sure, an insufferable, miserable peon with infinite regrets and no love in his life.
Wherever you are, William Ward, I hope things turned around for you. I hope you look back on your life at Lyman Ward Military Academy and I hope you see it as a period of serious confusion for you - and I hope by now you have learned that penis size and money mean absolutely nothing compared to respect, dignity and love for one another.
It's not that I was a bad kid - I needed no reform and had no criminal intent beyond perhaps finding ways to get an extra credit on the pinball machine using a slug and some thread. No, it's not that I belonged at military school, but the memories that place gave me, I would discover later in life, would prove to be the most unique and resourceful of any others from my childhood.
There is one memory in particular that I have, which has stayed with me throughout the years since graduation in the summer of 1997. This memory constantly reminds me of the importance of compassion and respect; as well it reminds me that the people in this world who appear to be the most cruel, uncaring and soulless of us are just as human as anyone else who has ever walked the earth. They simply suffer more than most.
This memory is of a young man by the name of William Ward.
When I entered the academy, I was in the 8th grade. I was an awkward, chubby little redheaded kid and I didn't know a thing about drilling with a rifle, shining shoes or taking orders barked at me by someone my age. Needless to say, I was in great need of some sort of guidance - some sort of beacon to help ease my transition from a life of video games and fishing to one of regimented days, sleep deprived nights and egregious amounts of violence.
I found that guidance from many of the other cadets, many of whom had been at the academy for years prior to my arrival. They knew the ropes and they knew what to tell a new cadet (also called a 'scrub') in order to have the new recruit 'on their side'. It was very akin to prison in the way that social hierarchies sprouted.
Atop one such social hierarchy stood William Ward. He was a boy of average height and build, and he was quite ugly. His mouth was much larger, proportionately, than the other features of his face. He had large, clumsy feet and goofy ears. When I first met him I thought I was looking at Alfred E. Neuman from the MAD magazines I had so loved.
The very first thing William Ward said to me when I met him was, "I bet my dick is bigger than yours."
I am dead serious. That was the first sentence that came out of his (large) mouth, and he was being very sincere. This wasn't a joke, and at the academy penis size meant a LOT. I didn't know this at the time. His comment sort of threw me off, and I'm not sure exactly how I responded. I just remember him saying that firstly.
William Ward apparently came from a family with a lot of money. Incidentally, the Ward family had VERY tight connections to the administration of the school, and so this ugly, foul-mouthed young man was lauded by his peers for really only two reasons: he had a very large penis, and he was favored by those in command of the school thanks to generous financial contributions from his family.
This made for a perfect storm.
William Ward became a ruler of us. It didn't matter that he was ugly, stupid or, as I would find out later, completely illiterate. He had connections, money, and a big dick. He could do whatever he wanted. And so he did.
William Ward became a platoon sergeant in Charlie company, where he was basically given free reign to control a group of about 15 cadets, bending them to do as he wished and using them as pawns to further his after-school exploits often times involving hazing, drug use and other debauchery. He could do no wrong - the amount of power that William Ward had was unreal, especially considering his young age and puny amount of life experience.
When it is said that power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely, it rings truest with me, because I have seen it. I saw it in William Ward.
For 3 years I endured the constant berating of this young man. At every opportunity, William Ward would seek to prove his superiority by either whipping out his penis or punching someone bigger than he was, because he knew there would be no ramifications. He wouldn't have to answer to anyone. It didn't matter that he was an ugly runt who couldn't read and failed just about all his classes. He had street cred at the academy.
When William Ward graduated, I watched as this young man left the school and entered the real world, failing out of college and resorting to a life of blue collar servitude in a completely foreign and, I'm sure for him, scary environment. I can only imaging the shock when he realized that he actually had to be able to read in order to get a job...in order to go shopping, balance his checkbook or really just function as a human being in civilized society.
Looking back on it all, I can only feel compassion and sorrow for that guy. William Ward was probably the most callous, mean and disrespectful young man to ever exist in 1995, but it wasn't his fault. The corruptions of a military system instilled into the life of someone who had been born ugly and who never learned to read - these things would create a monster who would eventually be tamed into becoming, I'm sure, an insufferable, miserable peon with infinite regrets and no love in his life.
Wherever you are, William Ward, I hope things turned around for you. I hope you look back on your life at Lyman Ward Military Academy and I hope you see it as a period of serious confusion for you - and I hope by now you have learned that penis size and money mean absolutely nothing compared to respect, dignity and love for one another.
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