world, we have experienced over two-hundred years of political freedom, to a degree which most ancient peoples could hardly fathom, and our collective agony persists. Those who fought, waged and labored for political freedom in centuries past, whose sacrifices are now found in textbooks and commemorated in monuments, would be utterly exasperated at the current generation’s discontentment. Warriors and voices of dissent who lived, worked, fought and died subjects of their tyrants’ bridles expired with the only the hope that one day the world might see prosperity and peace among its peoples. We, as living Americans, are closer to living such an ideal than any previous civilization; the unprecedented technological advances of the past three hundred years have rendered our lives all but free of hunger pangs, and the most complete empowerment of the citizen has ushered in a new era of potency for the democratic process. Yet, mankind continues to lust. In ignorant spite of our historical benefactors, who began paving the way to this most privileged of societies millennia ago, we continue our endless campaigns of emotional discomfiture and material lust.
“It is this realization, Mother, that cripples my will. I departed for college believing that living at a home of academia and learning would empower me to pass on to the next generation the next steps in posterity and harmony. However, after spending time with the hypocrites, the picture I had painted for my future was washed away. What had been conveyed to me, and affected me to the point of disillusionment was not in conflicts of doctrine or worldview. The intellectual battleground between doctrines of ultimate freedom and ruthless statism is an entirely false dilemma, as both equally fail to address the inherent flaw in mankind. Preachers in the street claim to know the will and influence of God, the ultimate fate and design of mankind, and the knowledge that will free mankind from sin. Even if we assume their proselytizing was based in truth and fact, and that they did indeed hold the secret of mankind’s design in a book, I could hardly imagine a world in which their efforts are less relevant. No, it was not conflicting ideals or exclusive religions that caused my disillusionment; it was the helpless, hopeless behavior of ordinary people.
“Evidence is brought forth that we hate ourselves and everyone around us with every action we take. We are granted an ever-escalating standard of living by the machinations driving the illusion of progress, yet humanity never ceases its disastrous campaign of omnidirectional loathing. At the university, there was a significant movement of individuals who oppose the accrual of wealth, spouting such inconsistent contrivances as ‘Wealth corrodes the soul,’ and the cliched ‘Money is the root of evil,’ yet these individuals are, by one way or another, in command of enough wealth to attend an American university. Easily in possession of enough wealth to donate massive quantities of food and water to impoverished peoples of faraway lands, or donate their livelihood to teaching the deprived to read and write, I can not understand how these hypocrites live with themselves.
“They act as though their hypocrisy is a necessary evil along the path to enlightenment, and that their indulgences are overshadowed by the magnanimity of their pursuits; and while this does not go on unnoticed, never has the idea been addressed that wealth may take the form of knowledge and understanding. Still another sect of humanity advocates higher degrees of political and personal freedom. While these groups in the offices are less prone to tyranny than their counterparts beating on drums in the streets and parks, they too neglect to answer an obvious internal contradiction, which reeks of tragic irony. They preach and campaign, write articles, books, and plays about their ideals of freedom, and invest infinite energies into their pursuits. Yet, should this day of absolute freedom ever come, would they actually be any degree closer to freedom? No! Instead of being wards of the state, they shall become slaves to their lusts and fantasies. The hunger for the restoration of the right to live and let live is inevitably and invariably replaced by an endless thirst.
“Still yet, there are those among us who preach that a man who lived two-thousand years ago holds the key to eternal life, and that those who sacrifice their lives on earth will accumulate treasures in heaven. We know several of these individuals, and we met many of them at church, on the seldom occasions we went. These folks wage a campaign under the guise of selflessness and compassion for their fellow man. However, the core of their conviction reveals that their lust is not absent, but has only been replaced by a desire to live in a fantasy world, in which they will rightfully claim what they stored away with their righteous acts during their mortal lives.
“Mother, all of mankind participates in the war on themselves. I am only a conscientious objector to the material hysteria that plagues mankind, and dooms us to shallow lives. Though life is meaningless, there is no reason that I may not try to live mine in true liberty, and this is what strips me of my desires; for labor, for belongings, for motivation. Those who provide a drug addict with additional sludge with which to poison himself are called ‘enablers;’ I refuse to enable human suffering and addiction by laboring to produce articles that humanity uses to engorge themselves, thereby perpetuating the sick illusions of freedom, happiness and prosperity.”
With the conclusion of this episode, the mother of the distraught young lady was at a loss for words. She grasped the fundamental idea that prevented her daughter from pursuing fulfillment, but had not even a clue as to how to change her daughter’s heart. Despite the longing that she felt to reassure her youngest child, and tell her that the world is not such a depraved place to live, she was stonewalled by the doctrine that had been laid out before her.
Marjorie had become more and more frustrated during her stay with her parents. Her monastic devotion to her ideals became so relentless and all-encompassing that everyday tasks began to involve drawn-out, internal conflicts. Shopping for groceries, she would picture the farmers and canners slaving away at their jobs with the hope of securing themselves higher levels of material or financial wealth; this she could not abide, and endured guilt induction at every check-out line. When she found herself at a department store, she was experienced overwhelming pity for the people she witnessed shopping around; she pondered how so many people can live their lives thinking only about what their next retail purchase will be, and her pity multiplied.
As everyday life became more and more of a struggle, Marjorie was naturally less and less functional. She eventually had to move out; not so much because she longed for independence after so much time at home, but because she could not bear to see her own family chasing after norms which she understood to be nothing more than deceptions and frauds. Her heart tore when she imagined her own mother and father, her own benefactors whose generosity and compassion were what she knew of divinity, laboring and slaving away in the pursuit of a phantasmic satisfaction. Discovering the existence of a self-sustaining, agricultural-based community not far from her hometown, she immediately inquired about their ethical standards and codes of conduct.
The young idealist left home and all but disappeared for many years, only occasionally making contact with the family. Her parents were forced to make due with a letter or phone call every few months. Much to their dismay, she never called from the same place twice, and her letters never included return addresses. Neither did she divulge many details regarding her living arrangements or relationships, though she did claim to be staying in different cities all around the United States. Although she managed to express her concern for the family, and inquired faithfully about the goings-on of her siblings, she never made a return trip to visit.
Some fifteen years later, Marjorie made her way back to where she grew up, dreadfully sick, malnourished, and desperate. She reeked of smoke and oil, and quite apparently had not kept up with her hygiene for quite some time, as dirt and blemishes obscured her face and inflamed her ears. Hair was knotted and matted down to her worn, patchy peacoat. Below the bottom hem of the jacket, two bare, skinny legs held her body aloft. Scratches, scars and scabs wound around her legs from her knees to her ankles, which wore mismatched deck shoes.
After spending so much time with rare phone calls and letters as Marjorie’s only forms of contact, Gramma was equal measures thrilled and horrified at her daughter’s unexpected appearance. It was on this day that she returned.
Peter’s knowledge of Aunt Marjorie was all hearsay and old photographs. Mom had a way of withholding sensitive information from him and Trini while they grew up; she would usually shrug her shoulders, and the intonations of her voice would exhibit unusually frequent spikes. He was able to tell that neither Mom nor anyone else in the family