The Fall of the American Dream
Painful Truths Countered with Specks of Hope
by
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Yes, today is Easter. Most social (some guilt-ridden) Americans are worshipping in our halls of organized religion. Many attendees will still have their heads buried since the above-mentioned report, but will pray for their sick friends, pray for world peace, then go to lunch in their small protected family or friends' conclaves, glorifying the sunny day of Christ's place in Heaven following the church service, carrying lifted spirits for a continued bounty in our wonderful United States. I did not attend a church service today. I keep thinking about the more than twenty-five BBs discovered in the tortured woman's body and the infected lacerations from burning her flesh with a hot glue gun. I keep wondering how cold she must have been walking around naked because her torturers burned all of her clothes. She pretty much kept to herself in the basement with only a mattress for comfort. She would leave her basement home only to look for leftovers in the refrigerator. Her murderers, yes, damn them, her murderers ranged from middle age down to preteen. The next up the pole of maturity was a teenager. All took part in the torture of a developmentally disabled woman who, through all of her pain and suffering, was mentally unable to realize she was being methodically tortured until, finally, her body shut down and God had the grace to make a place for her. Take just a moment and transfer that woman's suffering to a woman, man, child, or infant whose mental capacities are normal. That's almost unbearable to think about, isn't it? Yet, it goes on every day around the world.
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About the Book
Beginning around 2005, this book grew out of frustration and necessity as I observed the slow crumbling away of our so-called American Way. As a teacher, patriot, mother, sister, and troubled soul, I literally began piecing together this writing whether I liked it or not. I kept trying to stop the flow of words, but couldn't. Stream of consciousness stabbed at me like a dagger, yet I declared to myself that the negative thrusts of violence, selfishness, and willfulness on the part of societal beings was temporary, not the tip of a disastrous iceberg beginning to crush civility in nature all around me, all around all of us. The tip of collapse has deepened in spite of looking the other way or putting my words in a drawer where I couldn't see them. My language is strong coupled with a bit of levity, but we must act collectively to make the increasingly sparce specks of hope materialize into action and perseverance if we are to thrive and survive as a free nation.
About the Author
Actions may speak louder than words in some instances, but words are Sidney Mack's livelihood, her grand staff to lean on as she trudges and skips through life, and her refuge during the onslaughts of strife. This, her second publication, is delivered once again from the heart, from her compelling need to share her thoughts as a result of living, of being, in hopes her words may inspire, comfort, provoke, or even delight fellow humans. It might be possible that some readers may venture into deeper thought concerning their lives and even yield to the possibility that a slight change in lifestyle can open windows, or even doors, to a remarkable place in living upon reading the literary works of Sidney Mack.