Gone with tears are the four hearts of four souls,
Weeping for the world pitiless, merciless, cheerless,
Overawing and expiring the tiny flames of four lives, and
Leaving their remains soaked with tears with no friend.
Hope? Forget about the vanity of ethereal remote longing,
Unavailable to them, unthinkable to them, for their suffering
Was theirs, theirs only, theirs alone, not ours, not yours, not mine,
Thinking “Thank God, it’s them, instead of me” with a glass of wine.
Where was Charity when the four souls- two parents, two babies-
Were forced to wander around in the vacant lot nights and days
Facing daily unkindness, hopelessness, rejections, humiliations
Gnawing every part of them till their spirits plunged to a low bottomless?
Woe is to the four souls aborting their Fates so hard, so harsh
In defiance against such Fates that even allowed no remote wish
For instant happiness and now wandering the Place of Grief where
They tell us their failed dreams and disappointments hard to bear.
P.S. : This poem was written in memory of the family of four found dead in the backseat of a van in the parking lot of a CVS store located in Garden Grove, California. It is said that the family seemed to live in the van for about six months or so. The family was composed of a father, a mother, a two-year old daughter, and a nine-month old son. Although the Police is investigating the cause of death, I can’t shake away my strong speculation that it must have been a case of suicide… Hence, this is how I feel about these souls who had no choice but ending their own – including the little ones of their own- . If the father or the mother could have gotten a job, or if anyone could provide them information on how to get public assistance, such as acquisition of housing and food stamp, they would have been with us… They should have not died… I wish they would rest in peace., especially those little ones as my heart is crying…
When Sally Lamb, a resident reporter of the town’s one and only newspaper “The Calico Times” heard the news from Mr. Randy Beaver, an able-bodied mechanic who also functions as a town’s great plumber, that his distant maternal uncle named Mr. William Rustis had arrived in the town a week ago, her journalistic instinct prompted her to meet him in person. Besides, there had been no newcomer to this small town where urbanity meets rurality, teeming with a peculiar charm of fairy-tale like atmosphere created by the affably plumb and flurry appearances of the residents.
Sally gives a ride
So she drove to Dryad Park, where Mr. Rustis was reported to be seen with his camping belonging days and nights. When Sally got to the entrance of the park, she could see who Mr. Rustis was without a ray of doubt; a big sombrero, an orange-colored scarf tied in the fashion of a boy scout, a large and hefty frame, most of which was dominated by his wide waist circumference, and most of all, a striking grinning that was instantly recognizable of him even in a far distance. There he was, her Interviewee Of The Day.
Mr. William “Willie” Rustis
“H~~~~i, There ! I’m here!” was the exultant voice of Mr. Rustis with a Great Grinning. Sally, being always shy in public but bold in pen, was embarrassed by such an exuberant welcoming, when she would be the one who would welcome her interviewee to make him feel comfortable to have a good, productive interview result. ‘Thank God’, Sally thought to herself while scurrying toward the Man with Great Grinning by the fountain, the interview site. “There are just a few people in the park now. Is he a sane man as Mr. Beaver said of his uncle?… What if he dos not talk sense?… What if he bursts out a sudden fit of tantrum?… A man with such a seemingly perpetual grinning on his face will never be a sane man after all. I’d better finish this interview as quickly as possible.” So much mental ado was straining Sally’s sophisticated inner world as she was approaching closer to her subject.
Always Affable Uncle Willie
“You must be Ms. Sally Lamb! I am Willie Rustis, Randy Weaver’s old uncle. He told me many good things about you! Boy, aren’t you a lovely darling? You must have may boys and men who orbit around you. Don’t you? Ha! Ha! Ha! I’m darn glad to be interviewed by a lovely lass today! Randy didn’t tell me that you were! He just told me that you’re a good writer of a newspaper. By the way, what’s the name of your newspaper?” Sally was both stunned by his extravagant greeting, which was actually quite pleasing and flattering because she was renowned for her somewhat austere tendency toward strangers and people whom she regarded mentally benighted, especially men. Besides, she did not think herself as the “It” girl. “How do you do, Mr. Rustis. I work for “The Calico Times, the one and only newspaper of Sylvania.” Shall we begin?” “Oh, well! Sure! But please call me Willie. Being called Mr. Rustis makes me feel like I am senile! I am and always will be Willie! Ha! Ha! Ha!,” was the beginning of the day’s interview. And lo, it was a productive, intriguing interview as set forth in the following narrative of Mr. Rustis:
Willie reading the newspaper
Well, it’s been— I don’t know the exact numbers of days I have been spending so far in this new place, but it almost feels like a week or so. I could have gone to Randy’s as he himself and his lovely wife Brenda insisted – and they still insist! – and stay there until now, but I opted out for living here in the nature because I want to know more about this new place and feel the atmosphere myself in the most natural way, uninhibited by any superficial ways that creature comforts usually afford. Not that it’s bad, but that’s not my way of knowing a certain new thing. Maybe it’s because I’ve been a soldier too long, but I guess it’s in my nature. And in terms of the residents of this town, it’s hard for me to appraise their characters, tendencies, personalities, and so forth at this time. And people are people. As long as humanity exists, as it did thousands years ago, and it has been in existent thus far, there’s on one either extremely evil or angelically good.
Willie’s books and map
I must say, it’s a life of pioneer in the West at this juncture. Thanks to the generosity of the park administration, I can stay here as long as I don’t cause fire and keep the place clean. Although I don’t have a tent, I have a good old army sleeping bag that I still keep from the Glory Days of The Cavalry, some food provided by good Randy and his lovely wife Brenda on a weekly basis, a radio, and books! I am a librophile, a term I coined to mean a book lover. I love reading nonfiction on the subjects of ancient history, mythology, and the Classics. Right now, I am reading Plutarch’s Lives, which is just wonderful to read! You know that Plutarch himself was Greek, but could understand the Latin language, although not to the apotheosis of lingual perfection, and could write about all those great ancient figures of the time immemorial!
Uncle Willie talking
In fact, I am talking in terms of Logotheraphy, the third Viennese School of Psychoanalysis found by Dr. Viktor E. Frankl. Yes, I read his book Man’s Search for Meaning. I know it inside and outside. Well, do I? But once in a while, you need to keep yourself detached from the crowd to ponder about what you have seen in Reality that shapes your mind in the way you perceive the swing of things in the world in your own way, all in order to establish your own Reality. Well, right now I am having the moment, a moment of laughing about my anxieties and anguish about myself and future. And this won’t last long, for in fact, next week Randy will help me set up some small business to start. And going from there, I will see if I can move onto the next big thing, another new step to climb up my Alpine Path, so steep but so worthwhile.
Sally writing at the end of the day
It was indeed a stellar Interview of The Day. What began with Sally’s uneasiness with her unknown subject ended on a high note -with a kindred spirit. Willie was an embodiment of living Logotheraphy, a human endeavor to live in quest for meaning of life. Also, Willie was something of an intellectual, a man who practiced what he preached like George Orwell, one of the favorite writers Sally admires all the time. With her Traveler’s Notebook full of wonderful accounts of the interview, Sally drove back to her home to type them, to publish urbi and orbi about a man extraordinary in thinking but ordinary in acting, that is, Willie and his Weltanschaung – the view of the world.
In the wee-hours of waking from a slumber which
left me bewitched and reluctant to slowly
return to Reality pervading me inch by inch,
My eyes saw them glowing in the twilight silently.
The faces – the faces! – those angelic faces
of the celestial choir of Cherubims and Seraphims
with the eyes of stars in the night sky, but alas!
those eyes, those starry eyes full of silent woes!
As the dawn’s breaking, and breaking ever rudely,
the faces with the fateful eyes becoming faint and fainter,
and the candlelight by the bedside flickering weakly,
My eyes saw the Lights of Life growing big and bigger.
That heartache puncturing my heart in every pieces,
filling the voids with perpetual pathos of longing
lingers in the remains of the days till my soul sees
the sorry faces to tell them I love you, and the love is never-ending.
In the passage of history, there have always been great transitions marking epochs of civilizations that have changed the structure and course of world history fundamentally, such as the fall of the Roman Empire and the Industrial Revolution. However, before these epoch-making events, before the birth of city states, such as Thebes, Athens, or Sparta, and even before the time of Alexander the Great, there was a collapse of a great ancient civilization during the late 13th and early 12th centuries of the Bronze Age that shook down the diplomatic and political systems of kingdoms of the Aegean, the eastern Mediterranean, and the Near East regions, dawning the age of the Iron Age. At the center of this momentous drama of human civilization, there were mysterious Sea Peoples. The Sea Peoples: The Mysterious Nomads Who Ushered in the Iron Age by Charles River Editors describes unsolved mystery of these invaders who wreaked havoc across the Near East during the late Bronze Period.
In 1200 BC, before the arrival of the Sea Peoples, a political and social stability was existent between the major powers of the region, which were Egypt, Hatti, the Aegean, and the eastern Mediterranean kingdoms under the modus operandi carefully crafted through a combination of diplomacy and military conquest. During this period, Egyptians, Hittites, Mesopotamians, Semites, and Mycenaeans on the Greek Mainland formed a kind of multiple interconnected societies and maintained an international hierarchy by means of trading goods and exchanging cultural artifacts. However, all of sudden, the Sea Peoples from the Mediterranean and the Near East raided the region at the end of this period by dismantling the stability of the region, as the catalyst for the collapse of the Bronze Age and thus changed the face of the ancient world forever. Then who are these Sea Peoples? What prompted them to raid the region?
It’s the Egyptian hieroglyphic texts (writing with pictures) that first and foremost depicted these mysterious people because the Egyptians fought them off three times successfully; however, it was Pyrrhic Victory eventually bringing out a butterfly effect to the region by greatly affecting the international trades one by one among the interconnected states. According to the Egyptian historiography – also known as “The Papyrus Harris” – of the nine Sea Peoples, the following are the most known of all:
• The Lydian: a tribe from a modern day Libya
• The Sherden/Shardana: a tribe from today’s Sardinia
• The Peleset: a major participant of the raid , believed to be originated from today’s Palestine
• The Tjeker: a tribe that claimed to be descendants of Troy from Sicily
• The Teresh: a tribe originated in Asia Minor then moved to Italy to become the Etruscan
• The Ekwesh: Achaean/Mycenaean Greeks
Between 1200 and 1050 BC, these Sea People with new innovative military tactics of mercenary services and weapons, such as swords, shields, and helmets made out of metals from the Balkan, began to move into the inland of the Near East with the influx of peoples from Asia Minor (modern Turkey) and the Greek Mainland possibly due to catastrophic drought and other environmental factors, including disastrous earthquakes on the Greek Mainland as recorded by Herodotus’s writing a thousand years later. Also, there was a precipitous increase in the population of southeastern Europe, which might have propelled the invasion of the Sea Peoples. In fact, it is known that some invasions of Sea Peoples accompanied civilians and even cattle, which betokened a possible migration intention following from such events. Besides, this was also the period when the epic city of Troy was besieged and finally destroyed by the Achaean/Mycenaean/Ekwesh raiders as recorded by Homer.
Subsequently, the repeated raids of the Sea Peoples in the course of time resulted in a dispersion of the new cultural, political, and social customs throughout the Ancient Near East, weakening the stable system of a coalition of states that was mostly provided by Hittites and Egyptians who relied on extremely archaic political and military system, such as relying on chariots at warfare, and a feudal system. Moreover, a succession of ineffective rulers, declining trading volumes, and crop failure in the regions might have contributed to the demise of the Bronze Age, which was only precipitated by the pesky invasions of the Sea Peoples.
There are many other theories of how exactly the Bronze Age came to an end as to the relation of these mysterious Sea Peoples and their impacts on the collapse of the great ancient civilization. Nonetheless, what is viewed herein is considered as a widely accepted theory of the end of the Bronze Age as comprehensively chronicled in The Sea Peoples: The Mysterious Nomads Who Ushered in the Iron Age. By understanding the cause and the result of this unknown, mysterious epoch, we can also relate it to the diplomatic and political situations of our time that do not seem remotely distant but disarmingly similar and thus learn something about human nature that does not seem to be changed after all these years.
After years of working as seamstress and nanny with a trust fund her paternal grandmother Mrs. Molly Miller bequeathed to her in a magically discovered will, Sally’s mother Mrs. Mary Lamb bought a three-story house building in Charlottestown. It is indeed a revelation of lucky stars winking at the Lamb who have believed that heaven help those who help themselves as asserted by Benjamin Franklin. Not that the meaning of life aims at a pursuit of happiness, such as manifested in the realization of having a property now the Lamb possess, but that it is rather a by-product of their making efforts to live meaningful life simply by fulfilling demands placed upon their daily dealings with the world because to the Lamb materialistic bliss is not the ends of their life thanks to the influence of Logotheraphy, established by a great Austrian psychoanalyst Viktor E. Frankl whose book entitled, Man’s Search for Meaning Sally Wrote about in Serendipity, a kind of Reader’s Digest-like literary magazine of Charlottestown.
Mary Lamb, Sally’s mom
It is a big leap from the cozy and pastoral Avonlea where the mother and the daughter were comfortably accustomed to the modes of life for long. But that was exactly why Mary had decided to move to Charlottestown, a coastal city 5 miles off the Pacific Ocean where seas are bluer and deeper and wider, and the skies higher and clearer, with people bustling with many different lives and daily episodes. She wanted to become a pioneer woman and wanted her only daughter Sally to mark herself in such world, triumphing over her obscurity and self-doubt as awriter of her own.
Sally Lamb, before getting off for the intervie
Sally seems to like her new surroundings, adjusting herself thereto with her face radiated with a new sense of purpose and cheerful moods that were seldom surfaced to bloom back in Avonlea. But is she really content with their newly acquired state of material affluence with a house and a bakery, and even a car? Why not? It would be hypocrisy to deny what it is given, whether or not it’s favorable, especially if it is conducive to the invigoration of new energy that stimulates your mind growth to discover a wide panoramic view of life, a vista for what life asks you to do.
Bonnie Baker, Bakery’s new attendant/cashier
With a hereditary sense of business acumen aided by philanthropist streaks in her family line, Mary made the first floor a bakery where delicious cakes and freshly brewing coffee are made on premise (that is, in her kitchen on the second floor), all of which are served with genial courtesy and amiable smile of Bonnie Baker, a new attendant at the shop whom Mary hired last week. Bonnie is a sister of her two baby siblings, Nena and Neno, all left orphaned by the death of their parents from a tragic car accident in Kingsbridge two years ago. The Baker used to live with their maternal aunt Brenda, but Bonnie did not get along with her because of her curmudgeonly temperament and depressive emotional tendency. Hence, when she saw an advertisement on The Traveler’s Times, seeking for a reliable, affable bakery shop attendant/cashier, without hesitation and with guts of confidence and adventuresomeness, Bonnie applied for the position, met with Mary, who liked her instantly, and got the job.
To her amazement, Mary even volunteered to take care of the babies when Bonnie is at work. However, when Mary is also working on her mobile Candy Shop, her niece Sophie babysits them.
Sally’s ready to drive her very first car to her job interview.
Sally is on her way to her job interview at Buena Vista, a literary magazine that covers a wide scope of literature from book and film reviews to poetry, to essays, and to letters from readers, all except matters concerning Politics. Surely, this is an outright betrayal of Aristotle’s dictum that anyone who’s not interested in politics must be either a beast or a divine being. But talking and writing about politics in public only disintegrates a stability of societal codes of conduct and builds up walls between one another and makes a clan of itself… So for this reason, Sally is elated to be selected for an interview by her favorite magazine. She feels her time has finally arrived, the time when her ability as a writer gets a recognition at last…. She feels that the auspicious interview notice is a foregone result – that is, she has a precognition that this position is to be had only for the asking. So off our Sally goes to the magazine company, which is located at 101 Fifth Avenue, 10th floor in Manhasset, 20 miles off Charlottestwon linked by the Thomas Jefferson Bridge.
Sally, being easily moved into tears at the sight of people in need, also gives a ride home to Laura Collie, who with a heavy basket full of groceries is grateful for her act of kindness. Best Wishes for Sally’s job interview, or maybe we should congratulate her on the new job? Why not? What You Think and Believe Becomes Reality.
If I could only know where to begin
to turn over everything from within,
running through this wind of vortex,
with my hands clenched in coldness,
If I could only find where the Fates
live to demand my justice of the witches
who spun the Wheel of Shattered Dreams,
Silent Wishes, All in Epicycle, Orb in Orb, As Always,
With a great flapping of the wings of a new spirit,
I would fly away, far away, without limit.
With a light pair of eyes to see the reality,
I would fly higher, see farther for the beauty.
Flame, Glass and Ink are Poems, essays, and reading notes by Stefania Joori Suh 
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