Born into the Occult

Next on the agenda, Tom thought he saw a slight grin on the guard's face, and they entered into the death house.  There she was, bolted to the floor with her thick straps holding legs, arms, and torso--"Yellow-Mama," the state's electric chair.  Next to the chair some six feet away was a steel enclosure like that of a phone booth with only one small opening (silver dollar size).  The condemned inmate was placed into the booth just prior to the execution.  He could not sit, but only stand, and if he wanted to "look-see" out the small opening, he could only see Yellow-Mama waiting to embrace him with her thick leather straps.  A glass wall separated Yellow-Mama (waiting to embrace him) from the viewing audience, and hidden behind another piece of gray steel was the man who threw the switch to release the "juice," and end the life of another condemned inmate.

No, Tom didn't want to sit on Yellow-Mama's lap … how gross, insensitive, sensual.  This is where society got its due, and a soul met eternity.

Next, also in the death house:  Those waiting for their ultimate pace, i.e., to move with slow and measured steps to Yellow-Mama.  

Marking time were six inmates out of their small cells, in the exercise room, behind steel bars looking towards the path of steel deck leading to the door that opened to Yellow-Mama.  They had a half hour twice a day to exercise or walk to and from the small room, or just hang on the bars and stare with only their private thoughts of how much time was left, and for some, might their appeal come through in time. 

"Hey, Chap!  See that inmate with the crew cut … the blond boy with the hard blue eyes?  He's the bad one of this bunch.  Stay away from him." 

While the guard was talking, Tom noticed that the blond boy with the hard blue eyes had a tattoo on his forearm; it was a Marine Corps emblem.

Instantly, and without thinking, Tom raised his arms waist high, pointing them toward the blond boy with the hard blue eyes, and Tom spoke in a loud voice as he slowly approached the bars saying with authority, "Semper Fidelis, good buddy!!"  And as Tom continued toward the bars, he saw those hard blue eyes soften, and a smile engulfed the blond boy's face.  Tom thrust his arms through the bars and locked around the thorax of the inmate, who simultaneously thrust his arms through his side of the bars to lock around Tom's thorax.  They held tight the hug knowing they had already broken all the rules.  The blond boy turned his face sideways so Tom wouldn't see his tears.  Tom didn't care about his own tears as they gushed down his face, and the steel gray bars between them held fast the two men locked in emotion. 

The thirty-second hug had to break away, and Tom stepped back one pace, came to attention, and rendered a "Slow Salute."  The blond boy with the soft blue eyes came to attention, and gave Tom a snappy "High-Ball Salute."  As Tom turned to leave, he saw the sergeant standing back with bulging eyes and a wide-open mouth.

Eating lunch together was silent except for seven words from the guard … “I hope you get the job, Chaplain.”  The blond Marine with the soft blue eyes had two days to live.

What society won’t forgive, God does.  “As far as the east is from the west, so far hath He removed our transgressions from us,” Psalms 103:12.

 “Esprit de Corps” was reborn if for only a moment.  It implies, as a common spirit:  enthusiasm, devotion, and a regard for the honor of their group … The Marines.