Little hints of blue sky today. Strange weather for August. Of course, everything feels strange these days.
Near the toad-truck, I picked up a dime. Which, of course, reminded me of Carlton. I’m glad he missed the end of life on the planet as we knew it.
Carlton ended every talk he gave at Harpers Ferry Park by pulling a piece of paper from his pocket and reading—always with theatrical flair:
Charlestown, Virginia Dec 2, 1859
I, John Brown, am now quite certain that the crimes of this guilty land will never be purged away but with blood. I had, as I now think vainly, flattered myself that without very much bloodshed it might be done.
(The note John Brown handed to a guard on the morning of his execution.)
There are small signs that real resistance is emerging. Or maybe I just want to see signs. In the spring, peaceful protests might have turned things around. But now—it feels like 1859.
