The Father, The Son, And The Holy Myth

In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Myth;

Historians have twisted words with mythos, then pleat dogma 

 with ambiguity then dole it out to the canaille as veritas, mysticism 

glamorized in pearl blush and inauspicious wintergreen, eons of

vogue, bold, and demode foregoing of fashionable tenets have 

served the Christian church exceptionally and exceedingly well, 

dividends after dividends have procreated this hypocrisy into 

an art of opulence and degree, profusion advance past the fable, 

heresy controlled by indoctrination as fanatical insanity, science 

overwhelms the acolyte when fiction becomes disclosed, errant 

motive becomes stranded upon this pious rock, the stronghold 

of residual resistance, there built upon granite will one day soon

come crumbling to the ocean, and soon mankind can start to work in 

unison without conflict of one’s inferior beliefs. 

The Hondo(page-4)

 

       Kevin bought him a brand new Honda car, but, it was a flying machine, it registered 180 mph and how he managed for all those years without losing his life in that suicide machine is another one of God's little everyday miracles. He finally succumbs to selling it after several years because his feet couldn't adjust the mechanisms of driving, and his family knew this hurt him badly, like being stripped from your freedom of driving privileges even that was beyond cruel but he endures far greater than that, this was just the beginning of the turmoil that would engulf poor Kevin. 

       Tim was overshadowed by Kevin if not his very shadow if you ever saw Tim, you saw also Kevin, mortal brothers at birth and death, and for Tim to lose his brother’s mentoring, constant companionship, and more importantly his health was an everlasting sorrow for even Tim to endure at such an early age, youth is supposed to be enjoyable and memorable, but hardship was a sledgehammer that often found its unforgiving nail and thumb, Tim often kept to himself the mental torture that drove him into a deep depression, to have an alcoholic father and sickly brother was far more for any child to witness much less rise above the gauntlet of daily despair. 

     Tim and Kevin one year threw up a makeshift barnyard basketball goal but also bought two push-mowers that they earned their keep from two grateful people, Aunt Mary Jane and Uncle Roy, who paid them $5 a mow, now, Aunt Mary Jane’s home was beautiful if not immaculate yard and was an easy mow but Uncle Roy’s place was all hills and five times as big as Mary Jane's place, and Kevin and Tim dreaded that mow, wasn't worth the $5 apiece for the hardship much less sweating your butts off mowing three acres of land, so, not much basketball was played that year but here enters Uncle Mac and his son Myron, who visited the Hardesty family one spring day, and decided to challenge Tim and Hondo to a game of hoops, first one to twenty by four took home the honors. Well, Uncle Mac was a great athlete, played first base for Notre Dame before losing one part of his leg in a motorcycle accident, but moved very well on his prosthetic leg and they both humiliated Hondo and Tim. This was heart-wrenching and hard to swallow for them, to endure this embarrassment for a whole year was too much for both of them, so every day they shot and passed their basketball determined not to ever lose to Uncle Mac again. The year came to pass and enters Uncle Mac and Myron again, they were primed, cocky, and trash-talking, well Tim was so quick and ready for their moves, and Kevin was deadly at the top of the circle, that day was pure justification, they trampled them in three straight games, and Tim and Kevin got their redemption and annihilated their uncle and cousin, they beat them so bad Uncle Mac and Myron never came back, never. 

The Hondo(page-3)

 

       Now, this wasn’t over with Kevin, but first Tim elucidated to their father what took place, explaining to him that their dad’s hired help, two Abbot boys, wouldn’t take Kevin back to the garage where they were staying and living while their home was being built before an unexpected fire that destroyed the nice home to ashes. Joe, their dad, was irate and roiling over in anger after what took place and left his son to die without lifting a finger, their dad paid them and told them to never come back unless they want buckshot in their asses. 

       Kevin improved somewhat but the doctors had no clue or factor what was ailing him, it was late in his teens when they finally found out he had a neurological disorder very similar to Multiple Sclerosis, his plight had just begun, but nothing was going to stop the Hondo and nothing has since, where many would've given up and withdrew from life the Hondo mustered on like some warrior who was bilked out of his kingdom in life, he managed to land a job at the United States Postal Service after graduating from college with “two” degrees, and being the top tier of his class with the highest honors and awards. 

       Kevin lived in Louisville and worked at various Post Offices there and managing to live without any problems until one day, his rural route was upended by some nosey complaints by several who called in about a route carrier who was drunk every day who was tripping and falling around from house to house, so, the USPS gave no warning and fired him on the spot without prejudice, but one thing, Kevin never drank a drop of alcohol, not a taste. He immediately got an attorney and moved back in with his mother and family in Bardstown, but their dad died and they buried their father in 1982 on January 3. He died on New Year's Eve. 

       Kevin became depressed, and who could blame him? But, Tim his brother always helped him, no matter what circumstances or dire afflictions occurred, he hated that his brother was robbed of a healthy life and lifestyle, now, it was him to show Kevin love and deep understanding. A few years have passed, courts slow-walked his case but his mother took off from her work that morning and drove him to the United States Courthouse in Louisville, and the High Court  rejected the USPS case without any reason other than they had their chance to find Kevin's internal problem when they administered their physical and psychological tests, they awarded Kevin over $250,000. Mom and Kevin came home with the good news elated to the high moon, telling the family all this great news, God was great that day. 

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The Hondo(page-2);

        On those rare occasions when Kevin and his brother Tim didn’t attend school, they went hunting together on their dad’s farm located in Raywick. They walked along a country road that ended in a cul-de-sac, where they hopped a gate and headed toward the river bottom, Tim packed his Stevens 410 single-shot shotgun and Kevin always had his reliable Remington nylon-66 .22 LR(rifle). The fescue was about waist high and very close to cutting for hay but about a hundred yards past the vaulted gate up sprang a bird, Kevin in a split second raised his rifle, aimed, and fired and feathers scattered everywhere and the bird was dead before it hit the ground. Tim screamed out, “ you got him!” Kevin grinned all day because it was a real piece of shooting if not a remarkable shot, he in a nanosecond raised his rifle and shot a small bird with a .22 rifle and not a scatter-gun, still humbles his brother Tim to have witnessed this feat,  Jesse James had nothing on Hondo. 

       The element of time expired and whence life begat that miracle it bestowed upon this blessed family. The Hardesty family were proud, honest, and diligent, yet, the only weakness was they were poor though very rich in family values and love. They managed to live in unity, unmoved and undivided by poverty and greed. The farm rearing consisted of watching the life of corn turning Lincoln green in the Springtime that towered above the fence rows toward the sun in the humid Summer and then turning into a majestic death of gold in the late Fall, this consumed their bucolic dull world and somehow took the blow of depression away from the woes of their alcoholic father. 

       The brothers often had chores to do, feed the cattle and mend fences but the very first time Kevin showed any weakness was when Tim and he were cleaning out a matted and vine-riddled fence roll when Kevin became very ill, this scared Tim to death, and he thought, was the cistern water foul and poisoned? But, he too drank from this well, Tim pondered, was it my cooking, yet, we ate the same biscuits, eggs, and bacon. Tim ran for help about a half a mile back home, Kevin was too sick to move, Tim told his dad and they both returned in their 1965 Chevrolet green truck and their dad immediately took action, loaded Kevin up, and headed back to Bardstown, farm work was over with for now, the school opened anyway in two weeks. 

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The Hondo(page-1)

       On a glorious day on June 5 in the year of 1958, the horn of the Hardesty’s abode blared as the family welcomed their new arrival, Joseph Kevin Hardesty. He weighed in as the first boy in the height and shroud of the Hardesty bough and was exalted high above the family tree. The Hardesty tree would grow to seven children, three stubborn boys, and four precocious girls, a well-bred stock of trouble and woe. Time would sprawl past those childhood days, teenage decades, and worn-out years of disappointments. But, first, let's revisit a few of those lasting and unforgettable memories. 

       Kevin was a quiet and reposed kid at St. Thomas school, he was seldom out of character, cautiously optimistic, yet, acutely enthusiastic about learning the secrets of life, and begrudgingly euphemistic in his thoughts always. The sisters of St. Thomas wore their habits in modesty, yet, were  sinister in doling out punishment in wanton pleasure, you could never go to relieve yourself to any restroom before lunch or after lunch, kids would be loading up in their routed buses home in pre-soaked urine stains in their gray pants school uniforms and eventually and ultimately the mothers of St. Thomas finally had enough of this and put an end to this draconian nonsense after the PTA took an affirmative stand, these were children of 5 and 6 years old not adults, this tragically went on for years and the nuns refused, saying, “ this is the way to God!” 

       Kevin managed to keep good grades, kept to himself, and hid away the biggest secret of all, and that was his dad was an existing alcoholic. His dad was brilliant, he knew and forgot more knowledge than most could acquire in twenty lifetimes. But, his dad was an epileptic and a deeply disturbed and troubled soul, he drank alcohol to escape these demons and the throes of these uncontrollable seizures, and who could blame him, when waking up from these convulsions and not knowing who you are and much less the names of your seven children, this had an amazing impact and traumatic effect on Kevin and the rest of the family. 

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Suicidal Diary

Fraught Friday 

The afternoon rain compounded the remains of the day with an ongoing cumbrous seizure, then realigning, recovering, and reassembling all over again the memories, thoughts, and cognitive reasons of this agonizing reoccurring existence. 

Sedentary Saturday   

The allotted hour lodges upon the softness of the morning as seconds languish by in harried and chaotic disorder, stiff unrestrained drinks stifle the misery in pigments of dark unconsciousness of care, for the hour is very near. 

Sacred Sunday

The owl-lit hours fall into the break of morning. Shall I worship an unbelievable myth today?  Questions seize every mood as culpability maligns every thought as the forgiving sunlight rescues the moment.

Mundane Monday

Habitual recourse after recourse concludes every hour, monotony thrives upon the weak, enraptures and captures the frailty of the didactic reason to trudge through this solitary confinement and the ventral trouncing of self-defeat.

Torturous Tuesday 

The homily despaired curse immediately overwhelms everything, the scurrility searches out every weakness and stronghold, there’s no sidestepping or evading this cursed sickness, you’re your own enemy. 

Withered Wednesday 

This symbiotic conjunction of Thorazine, Valium and alcohol doles out in repetitive grams and shots of grateful solitude is the daily prescribed requirement of staying keel-keened.

Terminal Thursday

The golden hour was at hand when the watchman was away, the undulating throes of resignation overtook the morning, you conquered all your devoted ghosts but left the enduring demon behind. 

* My dad took his life on that memorial day of

   December 31, 1981. 

 

My New Job

 

 

 

I just started a new job today as a motivational speaker at our local funeral home and it’s not 

going too well for some reason.