The Abundance

The Abundance by Larry E. Hamilton

It is late January, 2022. I lost my mother last week. She was 88 years young and lived a long, full life before succumbing to cancer and the ravages of time. She was a strong, willful woman who brought five children into this crazy world. Three girls and two boys, of which I am the oldest…by a good bit. Her life was filled with brutal challenges, triumphs, and failures, like the rest of us. Poverty was her ever-present companion. She did the best she knew how to do, though I didn’t always think so. As I now reflect on her life and mine, and the 69 years we spent together, I understand something about her…and myself.

My mother disappointed me at many points along the way, and I know I disappointed her as well. I was quite the ambitious son who could always be found tilting at windmills. Don Quixote and I would have made good traveling companions. I broke a lot of lances in my early years. Mom, which I called her right up to the end, wanted me to be a preacher since she was quite the churchgoer. That would have made her proud. But, I was more interested in working in the rock and roll business, or anything other than the ministry. I am sure that disappointed her, but I wanted her to be excited for the man I had become. A man who was unafraid to try any business venture and exhausted himself in the pursuit of excellence in whatever activity he had a passion for. When I breathlessly described to her my latest adventure, she would always smile and say, “That’s nice.”, but that was about it. I lived in a perpetual and prolonged state of disappointment with my mom’s reactions and lack of interest in my many successes and failures. How could she not be elated with her son’s tales of producing concerts with famous people or owning my own businesses? I was always on the move and would often stop in for a day or two to update her on my latest journeys and escapades. She would listen patiently, but in the end, it was “Sounds like you had a good time…”, and off she went to start a pot of soup beans or an iron skillet of cornbread. Why didn’t she share my enthusiasm? My sense of accomplishment? I always made excellent grades and did what she asked of me. I took care of my siblings, mowed the yard, did the laundry and dishes, fed the pigs (yes, I raised four pigs), ran the sweeper, worked after school, and bought my school clothes by the time I was a sophomore in high school. Sound like I’m tooting my own horn? Maybe, but the purpose of this is to help you understand my frustration with not being worthy of more notice, or at the very least, a few deep conversations about my hopes and dreams.

Abundance:

1an ample quantity an abundant amount.

This is the definition of abundance according to Webster’s Dictionary.

What I learned with Mom’s passing is; we all give from the abundance we possess. Unique gifts and abilities for different people. I now see how Mom gave of her own abundance. Not the abundance I thought she should have, but the abundance she was born with.

She always offered me an open door without judgment, a place to rest my head, and all the good food I could hold. She possessed those treasures in great abundance. She was the first to take food to families who suffered a loss or were in need. In fact, when we children would come home from school, we had to ask which of the cakes or pies were for us before we could eat them. Often, they were for people who needed them more than we did. Abundance.

Strangers were welcome at our house, for better or worse. She was willing to take that chance for the greater good. Abundance.

Our home was known for its hospitality…because of Mom. Abundance of the heart.

I have reflected on where my personal abundance lives. It is not in the things she would have been most impressed with. But, I am making my peace with that. I have disappointed many people, many times with my lack of abundance in areas that mattered. I struggled to be a good father and parent. I didn’t have an exemplary role model for that, but I will not claim that as an excuse as so many others do. Stability and steadiness were continually challenging for me. I always had to see what was over that next hill. It was a leftover urge from growing up in the hills and wondering what lay beyond the next one while I voraciously read books that transported me all over the world. I believe my abundance can be found in my writings and in my boundless curiosity. I will let those who know me decide if I gave other things out of my abundance. I hope I have given something of value to those who know me and maybe to those who don’t. Maybe someone has been inspired to question everything and yet believe all things are possible. I love the mysteries of life more than the certainties. Maybe that is what I possess in abundance.

I wanted to read these words aloud to those gathered at Mom’s funeral so my siblings could understand the unique and complicated relationship I had with my mom. A relationship that spanned almost seven decades. I couldn’t. I could not have made it past the first paragraph, so I wrote it instead. I will forever remember Mom’s abundance of the heart and know she gave generously from that special place. That realization has brought peace to my mind and spirit.

See you on the other side, Mom. Thanks for all you did for me. I never grew tired of your beans and cornbread.

Love You…Larry

THIS GREAT EVIL

“This great evil, where’s it come from? How’d it steal into the world? What seed, what root did it grow from? Who’s doing this? Who’s killing us, robbing us of life and light, mocking us with the sight of what we might’ve known? Does our ruin benefit the earth, does it help the grass to grow, the sun to shine? Is this darkness in you, too? Have you passed through this night?”
JOHN DEE SMITH – Pvt. Train  (Quote from the movie The Thin Red Line)

As I consider this Christmas Season and all it represents, I stop to think on this well-known verse, “Peace on Earth, Goodwill to Men”.  How close are we to achieving this elusive goal of peace and goodwill?  To truly be able to say we are at peace with each other, in our own home, and with our global neighbors?

I viewed “The Thin Red Line” a few weeks ago and it stuck with me.  It is a brutish, violent, bloody, but honest movie about the reality of warfare as it played out in the disputed Pacific islands during World War II.  Some of the quotes I found to be most profound and touching. This was not a patriotic, white-washed, hero-worshipping epic.  No, it displayed the ugliness of war, refusing to portray it as a glorious and triumphant campaign.  It allowed us to see the real fear on the soldiers’ faces and listen in on the thoughts of men who knew they would likely never see home again…or another Christmas with their loved ones.

  “My dear wife, you get something twisted out of your insides by all this blood, filth, and noise. I want to stay changeless for you. I want to come back to you the man I was before.”

writing a letter ~ BEN CHAPLIN – Pvt. Bell  (Quote from The Thin Red Line)

How many young men and women have we seen forever altered and maimed both physically and mentally after experiencing the horrors of war?  How many returned a mere shell of their former selves?  Unable to be the same human they were when they left?  My uncle, John Carl Flannery, was a highly-decorated veteran of the Korean War.  As a child, I watched him be tormented beyond belief every time he attempted to sleep.  The enemy charged his position again and again while he slept.  They kept killing his friends and comrades, making it impossible for him to escape the memories of this terrible conflict.  He was a hero in every sense of the word but would have traded all his medals for a night of peace.  Of that, I have no doubt.  He was a bright light of a man, full of humor and personality.  He became a man full of pain and occasional darkness.  He was one of many who carried war with them until their deaths.

“Peace on Earth, Goodwill to Men”. 

“Who’s doing this?  Who’s killing us?”, the quote asks.  Is it the family, friends, and neighbors we all know?  Those who are just trying to make a living and raise a family?  Is it the mothers and fathers who watch their precious sons, and now daughters, sacrificed on the altars of greed and power?  Are they the ones who agreed to killing us?  I think we all know this is not the case.

We were told during the Cold War it was the Soviet people who were spoiling for a battle with America.  They, on the other hand, were being told we eat our young (true story) and it was the Americans who were eager to pursue a war with the Soviet Union.  Who told the Soviet people this great lie?  Who told the American citizens this same vicious lie?  

“Who’s doing this?”

As the Cold War showed signs of thawing, there was a television program which, for the first time, brought together citizens of the Soviet Union and the United States into one meeting hall and a forum was held.  There had been very little travel and communication between the two peoples since the end of World War II and the formation of the USSR.  On this occasion, people on both sides of this divide were allowed to ask questions of the other and the answers were uncensored.  There was great astonishment in the room as the meeting progressed.  Citizens from both great powers came to discover they had much more in common than they previously believed.  Neither wanted war.  Neither wanted conflict and hate.  Neither wanted to send their children off to die again.  Neither wanted their homelands and economies destroyed. Soviets now understood Americans love their young, they don’t eat them.  Americans discovered warmongering was not built into the DNA of the average Soviet citizens.  Not after they lost millions of their brethren to the Nazi invasion during World War II.

I heard this saying many years ago, and I have never forgotten it…”if the people that made the wars had to fight the wars, there wouldn’t be any wars”.  This rings true to me.  Our greatest treasure, our children, have been used as pawns in the wars of politicians, religious zealots, and the powerful since recorded history began.  Sacrificed on their selfish and bloody altars.

 “We’re living in a world that’s blowing itself to hell as fast as everybody can arrange it.”
SEAN PENN – 1st Sgt. Welsh  (Quote from The Thin Red Line)

Daily, I read in the news about new weapons systems being developed by either the United States or another country.  We never tire of creating and funding new ways to destroy ourselves in this world of misplaced priorities.  Nuclear weapons was not enough.  Not to our world leaders. The weapons  of today have to be hypersonic, space-based, or stealthy.  The military/industrial complex has never been more dominant and prolific.  President Eisenhower warned us of their influence during his final speech as president.  We didn’t listen it seems.  Billions of dollars of funding are awarded to these groups every year.  They are earmarked as the “Black Budget” and are no longer subject to congressional oversight.  What are they doing with this money in addition to the massive military budget we already support every year?  Need to know basis and we don’t need to know.  Not even the President or Congress is allowed to know much of what they are doing. The global arms race has never been more alive and well.  Russia is now becoming belligerent again over Ukraine and we could be right back into the Cold, or Hot, War again.  They have to have somewhere to try out their shiny new weapons, don’t they? We tested ours in the Middle East over many years. Our technology has outraced our wisdom and that, my friends, is an unsettling thought.

“War don’t ennoble men. It turns them into dogs… poisons the soul.”
JIM CAVIEZEL – Pvt. Witt  (Quote from The Thin Red Line)

Good men go to war and have to become savages to survive.  What if we were able to learn war no more?  What great things we could do if all those resources were turned to peaceful purposes.  We could actually fulfill our destinies as humans, perhaps.  Hunger and thirst would be a thing of the past.  Diseases would be eradicated.  There would be no more desperate throngs of refugees running from war, death, and starvation.

“Peace on Earth…Goodwill to Men.”

Oh, that we would make this so.  I am certain the vast majority of people on this planet want nothing more than to have this dream come true.  They want the killing and genocide and hatred and prejudice to stop.  They pray daily that it will.  Yet, it continues.  Strife over borders, religious beliefs, money, power, and nationality rage like forest fires being blown out of control by an evil wind, telling us we are not alike and we should hate those who aren’t like us.

“Who’s doing this?  Who’s killing us? This great evil, where’s it come from?”

I think most of us know the answers to these questions.  Yet…these evil men and women prevail.  What if this were to be the final Christmas we live in fear of war and nuclear annihilation?  What if we found a way to say NO to the relatively few people who continue to hold our world in servitude, sorrow, and conflict?  What if we just refused to do their bidding?

How does this begin?  How does it work?  I truly don’t know as of this moment.  But, it is my Christmas Wish that it does begin…now.

Happy Holidays Everyone…

Larry Hamilton

larry@hamiltonhousebooks.com

CONFESSIONS FROM AN AMAZON BESTSELLING AUTHOR

YES, I DID IT! By Larry Hamilton ~ 12/13/2021

Amazon Bestselling Author. Amazon Bestselling Book. Huh?  Did this really happen to me?

12/11/2021.  A day to remember.  The day my book Critical Mass hit #7, #13, #45 in 3 separate Amazon categories worldwide.  It is also the day I earned the title, Amazon Bestselling Author.  Yes, my friends, that is a dream come true for any writer, and I am no exception.  I didn’t know whether to brag about it to my friends and relatives or just shut up and pretend it didn’t happen so as to not jinx my future endeavors.  I did some of both in the end.

I imagine this to be a dilemma that most writers face when they achieve their first modicum of success.  The earliest mile marker that signifies that maybe…just maybe…they can put pen to paper, so to speak, in a meaningful and entertaining manner.  And maybe…just maybe…someone will care about and want to read what they write.  In the deep of a sleepless night you wonder…is it really possible to become a relevant voice in today’s world and touch the mainstream consciousness in some way?

Maybe you choose to send a gloating text or e-mail to those who looked at you a little strangely and said things like, “Oh, that’s nice”, when you announced you were going to publish your first book, receiving acknowledgement but not exactly encouragement.  As if you were a small child presenting your first crayon doodle to your parent and receiving a patronizing smile.  Those who claimed they read your books, but you know they did not, even when you gave them free, signed copies, hoping for feedback or a conversation.  Trying to nurture this fragile young writer identity you had adopted.

Do you send screenshots of your Amazon Bestsellers page to the doubters?  I remember the Bible saying, “A prophet is without honor in his own country.”

I could always discern the ones who were truly interested in my new adventure because they asked questions about it.  That small act of inquiry often fed my hungry soul when I was perilously low on self-confidence.  Just a simple question.  How did you think of that?  What made you want to be a writer?  That allowed me to verbalize and share my dream with another living being rather than keeping it all inside.  Maybe a small gesture for them, but a little more fuel for my engine.

It was tempting to do those sorts of things, but only for a moment.  The joy and elation of touching just the tiniest bit of success, was both intoxicating and shocking.  Those feelings instantly outweighed any negativity I had encountered along the way.  It justified and made worthwhile the lonely hours spent pounding away at a keyboard, knowing full well that there was a very good chance nobody would see or care about the words you were stringing together from the far reaches of your mind.  Hoping your creativity would not abandon you before you finished the next chapter and at the same time not being entirely sure you understood where the ideas came from…

I am also mindful of the fact that success is usually a team effort as much as an individual one.  I have been enhanced and encouraged by many people along the way.  My wife, Karole, has supported and pushed me forward even when I considered giving up.  I can never thank her enough for that.  She kept me alive sometimes.  She has always been my first reader and willing to listen to my crazy ideas and imaginings.

I have friends and relatives who acted as beta readers for my early drafts.  They told me my writing didn’t suck.  That was important to hear from people who actually recognized coherent writing when they read it.  There are many to thank and I don’t want to start naming names for fear of leaving somewhat out or failing to properly recognize their contributions to my work and survival as a writer.  You know who you are and I have thanked you all privately I hope.  If not…Thank You!

MindStir Publishing has played a major role in all this.  J. J. Hebert and his team have provided editing, cover design, and marketing in an expert and highly competent manner.  Monica Kelly designed my killer website where this blog entry will be displayed. Your work on my behalf has been deeply appreciated and acknowledged.

Now that I have achieved an important milestone along my chosen path, the challenge will be to keep it going.  That may prove to be more difficult than I know.  But…that is fine.  No matter what, I had a day to treasure and a chance to think about my journey and everyone that has contributed to my budding success. 

Now…time to get back to what I love doing…writing my next book…it’s an amazing adventure and I can’t wait to see where it goes and how it ends!  Oh that’s right…I know how it ends and it’s going to be very cool…

Larry Hamilton

www.hamiltonhousebooks.com

larry@hamiltonhousebooks.com

Author Larry Hamilton Critical Mass and The Atlantis Codes