I went to bed last night after reading scripture with my wife, as we often do, and instead of drifting into a long, needed sleep, I was haunted by an idea.
Excellent piece. I often wonder the same thing too, though not specifically about living in the Somme. The idea of wanting to know if you have what it takes is fundamental to being a man, and we’re denied that at every opportunity now. And so to the question of whether I’d actually prefer to live in a past time, if I would given the opportunity, I err on the side of “No,” as tempting as that would be. Knowing what I know now, despite utterly despising living now, the most retarded of all possible timelines, knowing that it would be my progeny who’d have to suffer is what gives me pause. I wouldn’t wish Clown World on anybody, and I’d never be able to repent of being a part of its creation. Better to live in it and help create something better, than to be a generation looked upon as the architect of the Age of Retardation.
I’m once borrowed Memoirs of a Fox Hunting Man and found the world it described idyllic. Such a tragedy that it was destroyed. When I was younger I saw some romance in it, but reading Paul Fussell, The Death of the Ball Turret Gunner and other such literature cured me.
In high school I had a WWII veteran driving instructor remark that he would like to see me in the military after he saw my aimless, diffident driving. I see what he meant but I’m still glad I never had to join any military or participate in a war.
Excellent piece. I often wonder the same thing too, though not specifically about living in the Somme. The idea of wanting to know if you have what it takes is fundamental to being a man, and we’re denied that at every opportunity now. And so to the question of whether I’d actually prefer to live in a past time, if I would given the opportunity, I err on the side of “No,” as tempting as that would be. Knowing what I know now, despite utterly despising living now, the most retarded of all possible timelines, knowing that it would be my progeny who’d have to suffer is what gives me pause. I wouldn’t wish Clown World on anybody, and I’d never be able to repent of being a part of its creation. Better to live in it and help create something better, than to be a generation looked upon as the architect of the Age of Retardation.
My thing is, the fact that it's not a slamdunk decision is the biggest indictment of all. I put out a poll on Twitter and it's close
I’m not surprised. Even for me personally, it’s not a slam-dunk decision. It’s about 55-45.
I’m once borrowed Memoirs of a Fox Hunting Man and found the world it described idyllic. Such a tragedy that it was destroyed. When I was younger I saw some romance in it, but reading Paul Fussell, The Death of the Ball Turret Gunner and other such literature cured me.
In high school I had a WWII veteran driving instructor remark that he would like to see me in the military after he saw my aimless, diffident driving. I see what he meant but I’m still glad I never had to join any military or participate in a war.
I don’t know about the Somme, but I’d I didn’t have kids I’d go back to Afghanistan or Iraq in a heartbeat.