The First Love Of Alipang Havens

(> Continuing Chapter 150 <)

"Is it true that your son decided you were an ideal father because you waited for everyone else to be served at the dinner table before he ate anything?"

Pang Biao-Tu wanted to know more about Alipang Havens; but she didn't want Summer Havens to imagine that she, Biao-Tu, desired to steal Alipang for herself sexually. She didn't, but what she did want was to acquire allies for her future efforts to prevent future despotisms. After first meeting Terrance and Harmony who had grown up with Alipang as their hero, Biao-Tu deemed it logical to meet next with the hero's heroic parents. In reply to her question about the decades-ago meeting with a Filipina social worker, Eric told her:

"My father did that, waited for others to be served. So did Cecilia's brother Doug Fairhope."

For years now, Cecilia had been unanimously encouraged by the family to take it easy. But her last two doctor visits had produced good assessments. After Pang Biao-Tu left, Cecilia told her husband: "I take that cordial interview as a sign from God that I should encourage the literary project you've been considering. We can discuss it further tomorrow, after you make love to me all night."




Eric was reassured by Cecilia's energy for intimacy, and relieved to find her in good health when they woke up. Over a breakfast which he prepared (his prosthetic hand worked well enough in the kitchen), he invited his Homeschool Heroine to speak her mind. So she began, after a bacon-flavored kiss.

"You know that the Fairness Party, like other tyrannies before it, loved saying 'Honest people have nothing to hide.' But you also know that the saying is valid if and only if the government is also honest. A dishonest government will pry into everything the peasants do or say or have."

Eric's reply tasted of nostalgia for absent friends. "Good old Pastor Stetzer used to talk that way."

"And if he and Isobel were still down here with us, they would urge you to protect your virtuous activities against suppression by intrusive tyrants."

"Yep, that's why Redemption Free Church renounced its tax-exempt status: one less handle for big-government bureaucrats to grab hold of. God willing, I can prevent the political control freaks from even realizing I am writing anything. Heck, why not be ambitious? I'll wager that Miss Pang, and-or Yang Sung-Kuo, would get on board with having me translated into Mandarin, equally below the radar."

Another thirty-four hours passed, marked by as much lovemaking as they could manage, before Eric sat down and began drafting a foreword/ prologue to his autobiography. In view of his life having been full of collisions with domineering politicians who relished blaming the victim, he contemplated titling the book "THEY'LL CALL THIS HATE SPEECH." Part of the foreword was as follows:




=====>> Through history, it has been a recurring cycle that some unjust establishment will be deservedly overthrown; then the heroes OR competing evildoers who vanquished it become the new establishment. The successors either prove to have been fakes all along, or they forsake their ideals and become the same evil they overthrew, or they have the misfortune to be overpowered by external aggressors.

The early Israelites were in good shape spiritually under Joshua's leadership, but became a roller-coaster in the generations following. King Saul made Israel stronger, but then lost his way. David remained longer in obedience to God, but then he decided that might made right, and forcibly violated Bathsheba. Solomon achieved good things, but then allowed himself to compromise with paganism. King Hezekiah gained ground, but his successors squandered it. Josiah didn't go wrong-- in fact, Scripture specifies that he was a better king than David --but he died because he made an honest mistake about which side in a war he should join.

After the Exile's end, Zerubbabel and Nehemiah rebuilt Judah (the remnant of Israel). Then the Macedonian empire intruded on them. The Maccabees, uncommonly brave heroes, restored Jewish independence; but their descendants backslid into apostasy. The Pharisees then restored justice and spiritual purity; that's right, the first Pharisees were good men, and emphasized fairness toward persons accused of crimes. But then, yes, the Pharisees turned into the bad guys in the Gospels.

In recent history, Oliver Cromwell-- contrary to people who imagine that the Cavaliers were chivalrous romantics-- created the most just and equitable government Britain had seen in many centuries, this to include freedom of speech even if it spoke against Cromwell himself. But once he died, the king who revived monarchy also revived censorship, which was how John Bunyan came to be taken as a political prisoner because he wrote a book.

" " " " " " " " " " " " " " " "

This was as far as Eric got in his first writing session. Upon reading it, Cecilia expressed her approval in delightfully physical ways.
 
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Chapter 151: Grudges versus Justice

A traditional all-acoustic brass band was playing a rousing march, sounding like noble heroes racing to save people in mortal danger. "Have we ever heard that melody?" Norris Guthrie asked. Maria Guthrie replied, "I think, I think it was the service song of the old United States Coast Guard."

" 'Semper Paratus'," a dock worker affirmed. "Yes, it's the Coast Guard anthem. I don't know if there were ever lyrics to it,"

Norris thanked him, and remarked, "Of course it's fitting, since this cutter will help to safeguard America's east coast, extending north and south beyond the West Liberian part."

Maria asked the dock worker: "Do you know if it's true that the original Coast Guard performed much of its duty in the coastal waters of other nations?"

"Yes, and it was perfectly appropriate. Before the Second World War, the foreign assignments were for the benefit of America's trading partners. We weren't in a war to control blue-water seaways, requiring naval units that could sustain ops for months without sight of land."

Norris put in, "I know that historically, many pirates were like an anti-coast-guard; they would wait on shore to see if a worthwhile victim came into view."

The worker nodded. "The more we kept friendly shipping safe, the more willing investors in the host country were to maintain commercial ties."

The new cutter, America's first coastal combatant (though not failing to possess rescue-mission capability) mounting weapons like those on the Texas Tu-95's: a particle beam projector forward, a chain gun aft. It (she) was the Ford Lewiston, in memory of an Original Coast Guard commodore (no relation to Principal Flora Lewiston at old Smoky Lake East High School) who had been murdered in the same Fairness Party takeover which claimed the lives of Wilson and Quinn Kramer.

Once out at sea, the first high-grade system on Ford Lewiston to see serious use was the satellite-comms array.




The Mountie corporal in charge of the Canadian contingent in "West Liberia" hastened to inform Constance Auclair: they were included among authorized recipients for intel collected by the Coasties. "They traced signals apparently directed to a covert seagoing unit: either an innocent-looking small boat, or a submersible putting up a receiving antenna. Decoding efforts suggest that senders are briefing receivers about the use of stealth technology. Assessment isn't certain, but very possibly indicates that new-model blur projectors are the subject of the transmission."

The Guthries would not learn any time soon what was behind this.

Meanwhile, the Ugartes purchased some breeding rams and ewes from a sheep rancher on the Eastern Seaboard. Beltran and Maria didn't know that he had been talked into buying a new livestock truck, and had asked no questions.

When several of Amistad Upugoria's deputies noticed the truck on its way west, the air above it was full of a watery shimmer. Halting the truck, they ordered the shepherd couple to get out and lie face down with hands visible. The truck held nothing more hazardous than sheep droppings. Voiceprint lie detection soon proved that the Ugartes had not known the truck was equipped with an upward-oriented holographic suite. Apologies ensued and were accepted.

When Marshal Upugoria learned of this, she secure-voiced Colonel Auclair. "Someone wanted us to be distracted; wanted us to think that something was being smuggled along this route. Which means we're being lured away from whatever is actually of interest to the hostiles."




"Well, Andreas, did the kitchen staff get the seasoning right on the tamales?"

"Perfectly, anfitriona."

The Rainbow House had long since been changed back to the WHITE House. President Monica Sotero was equally Hispanic as her guest, President Garcia of Mexico; but her spirit was mostly shaped by the examples of George Washington, Abigail Adams, Abraham Lincoln, Clara Barton, and Teddy Roosevelt. She had always cherished Roosevelt's motto, "Do what you can, with what you have, where you are." She and her counterpart were brainstorming over non-violent strategies to nudge hostile Hispanic nations, like Bolivia, in the direction of reason.

As the two presidents continued strategizing over supper, some very non-conciliatory Bolivians, who had received nautical training outside their mountainous homeland, were inside a hybrid submersible hovercraft, running submerged up Chesapeake Bay: making for the Potomac River and Washington, D.C.




"What is it, Yvette?" asked Constance Auclair.

"Message from the Coast Guard surveillance ship, Colonel," the Mountie replied. "They've analyzed cryptic radio traffic, which they judge to be connected with a plan to conduct an amphibious assault against Monica Sotero and Andreas Garcia."

Colonel Auclair and the Mounties, rounding up local police for additional eyes and guns, hit the ground running.

The aggressors, however, were no amateurs. When they detected signs that they had been detected, they submerged again. But instead of retreating downriver, they launched a sound-emitting decoy which sounded as if the amphibious submarine were fleeing downstream-- while the real sub continued upstream, aiming for a new emergence point farther along.

Ordinary capital police were the first to see the enemy craft putting ashore. They were shot and killed, but not before they got off a warning. The invaders, committed now to land action, raced as two separate squads toward the White House. Each squad had one laser weapon, carried by its best marksman.
 
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Andreas Garcia, realizing that all manner of civilians outside were in jeopardy, demanded a weapon so he could join in the defense. The Secret Service agents, however, told him that Mexico needed him alive, and hustled him into the safe room with Monica.

Colonel Auclair and her Mounties, with one capital cop to guide them, operated as an intact team, deploying to intercept any hostiles on the avenue they were following. Fire department personnel were lightening the fighters' load by herding civilians out of harm's way. Some firefighters were wounded themselves, but their peers rendered efficient first aid for them.

For what it was worth, no civilians perished: not because the raiders cared a hoot about innocent lives, but because they were focused on their targeting priority. Constance Auclair was a valuable target for the laser gunner on this flank, and she died a hero's death. In the end, four aggressors were taken alive; all the rest were slain. Like trophies, the captured laser weapons became Secret Service ordnance. The humiliated prisoners would be made to confess their crimes to the Bi-Continental Assembly.




Elsewhere, two days later and many miles west:

"Remember when we got to watch an analog video of 'The Quiet Man'?" Wilson Havens asked, halfway along in a walk on a park trail.

"Sure do," Cecilia Salisbury affirmed. "John Wayne and Maureen O'Hara had to go strolling with a chaperone following. He wouldn't even let them do this much;" and she lifted their clasped hands to shoulder level.

"Stuffy of him," said Wilson. "Their characters weren't even theoretical cousins like you and I are, much less theoretical siblings. You and I, or Terrance and Harmony, are no more blood relatives than John Wayne and Maureen O'Hara were."

"We have a few years to go yet before we can get married. But I can hope that we'll do as well as Uncle Terrance and Aunt Harmony are doing."

"If we're given time, we'll do great. But that attack on the White House argues that America still isn't out of the woods." ,

The son of Alipang and Kimberly and the daughter of Dan and Chilena were in safe woods today; accordingly, they found a private spot where they could do their most serious kissing yet.




Pang Biao-Tu, the progressive-in-a-good sense Chinese woman who was acquainted with the extended family to which Wilson The Second and Cecilia The Second belonged, was also glad that the assault against two presidents had failed. But her mother Yan-Hao, coming to America to visit Biao-Tu, didn't share the young woman's gladness.

"Your mother speaks, Biao-Tu. Your interest in the white-supremacist Christians is not healthy,"

"Is it you speaking, Mother, or is it the old Maoist narrative speaking? Alipang Havens isn't white, but his being Asian like us never hindered him from acquiring international prestige. And the revived American order which he supports has given positions of authority to Africans, Asians like us, and Native Americans, without any Christians opposing this practice of equality."

"I can recognize him doing good things in his career, without giving him a free pass to antagonize people now. He's fought people in America, in Africa, and on a ship at sea. I think he's a might-makes-right character."

"Mother, you're forgetting the day he covered that animal-obsessed boy and absorbed a beating without fighting back. Even though he could have killed them all with his bare hands in a minute or less. I call that self-control, not sick belligerence."

"Daughter, are you in love with Alipang Havens??"

"Not in such a way that I would ever wish to steal him from his wife. But if Summer Havens were to fall down dead by no fault of mine, Alipang could have me for the beckoning."

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Next Major Section: BREAKING BEFORE BUILDING

CHAPTER 152: After Whatever Time Interval Suits The Overall Storyline!

Bodyguards for Pang Biao-Tu admitted a respected visitor: Fu Ip-Shi, younger but plainer-looking than her chief. Ip-Shi beheld a Caucasian woman already in the suite: older than the visitor, but considerably better-looking.

"Summer Rand Havens, meet Fu Ip-Shi, who just finished mopping up some Vietnamese mobsters for me. Ip-Shi, Summer has been around multiple blocks, without ever being formally enlisted into any armies. She's competent to stand in for her high-visibility husband, who is visibly looking after a certain Evita Kimberly, plus Evita's two quartets of half-siblings. Now, after some refreshment, both of you will be briefed on an impending operation whose main purpose won't be secret for long. We will soon be joined by a couple who also enjoy notoriety, and who are more available for action than their in-laws are."

The added participants were Vartan Yenovkian and his Brazilian-born wife Adelma. (Vartan's sister Vartui Yenovkian Preston was carrying George's son.) Summer was more than pleased to develop acquaintance with any of her husband's former shipmates.




At a lodge in south Nigeria, Dunak Okigbo and his younger sister Hildegard were brainstorming with Vartan, Adelma and Fu Ip-shi, joined by Brendan and Jennifer Hyland (these with children, including the just-now-school-age Virgil).

"Do you want to move all of the Vatican structures all the way back to Italy?" asked Adelma.

"In a perfect world, sure," Dunak replied. "In a world barely breaking free from interlocking despotisms, we need to choose among alternatives which all come with uncertainty. One option: invest anti-gravity assets to move the historic buildings partway north, but separately transport the documents and relics in a different direction, with a true priority on those items being the heart of a re-transplanted African Vatican. Another option: same energy-intensive decoy movement of buildings, but send those vital movable treasures all the way to Italy, thus genuinely achieving a restoration of the original Vatican in Rome."

Vartan drew a conspicuous breath. "You realize that we Armenians were already Christians before the original Vatican rose. But I'm for preserving a surviving Vatican as a thumb in the eye to those who hate everything Judeo-Christian."

"They also hate even uncommitted agnostics," Ip-Shi put in, "if the agnostics don't slavishly conform to the 'correct' agnosticism."

"Back in the day," said Jennifer, "Brendan and I survived facing similar arrogance, even in high school."




The next day, a squad of "secret army" veterans convoyed six hardy-looking women to the town where Dunak and the others were gathered. The eldest of these, but still far from decrepit, was the only Asian in the group. She addressed Brendan first.

"General Hyland? You may know me; the Redfern family knows who I am. Osmawani Jalil, lay sister of the Bridge Repair Sorority."

"I know of you, and it's good to see that you followed through on your change of paths."

"Thank you. My organization wanted you to know, by direct speech which no transmission intercept can detect, that we are at your disposal for anything useful: be it plain logistics, or setting up some false appearance to put adversaries off track."

"That's good to know. I don't plan to send you in harm's way, but red-herring ops may indeed be called for."




"There can be no doubt that India will succeed at colonizing Mangal. We're not against their succeeding, but we want to influence their direction."

At a safe house on the Falklands, a Cambodian businessman called Sisamut Bora (Cambodians put the surname first) was chairing a strategy session of leaders in an underground network. He had just mentioned the Red Planet by its Hindi name, which all of his hearers recognized. While far smaller than the multinational Christian-friendly force of which Brendan was a leader, it shared the feature of not giving itself a name.

The next most senior man in attendance asked, "What sort of direction?"

"Cultural, and expanding from there. During our lifetimes, friendly cooperation between Hindus and Christians has been steadily growing. You may recall how that Karkal fellow has contributed to the trend. It does us no harm, but we need to get ahead of it."

"So we can take the credit?" said another man.

"Pretty much. My speculation for the future is that the Catholics in Africa will eventually lose much of the ground they have lately gained on that continent. With Indo-Martians prospering, whoever is the next Pope will see benefits in creating a Roman presence out there. Maybe even relocating the Papacy itself.. If we nudge events properly, our Papal choice-- I don't mean a fake, I mean whatever legitimate pontiff emerges and eventually receives our subtle support-- can be made to endure gross mistreatment, with the resurgent collectivist system taking the blame. For instance, if he spends time in a psychiatric facility before being liberated, we could plant fake psychotic patients in there with him, pretending to be obsessed with weapons and violent insurrection. Our infiltrators would be encouraged to ham it up, yelling phrases like 'Fire the guns!' Once released from THAT environment, the Pope would be more than glad to accept sanctuary with sympathetic (and rational) Indo-Martians."

))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))

AUTHOR'S NOTE: THE ABOVE SCENE PRESERVES THE PLOT ELEMENT WHICH I ORIGINALLY DESCRIBED IN MY NOW-LOST SHORT STORY "THE FIRST POPE OF MARS." IT SHOULD BE CONSIDERED CANON FOR THE ELIOT GRANHOLM SAGA. WHEN THE GREY EAGLE SPENDS TIME ON MARS BEFORE BECOMING A SUPERHERO, HE GETS TO KNOW THE RELOCATED CATHOLICS.
 
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"Brother Henry, is this one of the airplanes that used to spray chemicals to make people obey the Pinkshirts?"

"No, Rickard, those weren't built for passengers, therefore smaller."

"All right. So do you think the elders will ever decide that we youngsters can continue riding in airplanes after we make the life commitment?"

The semi-Amish Apache brave smiled warmly. "I suspect that with India developing its plans for Martian colonies, the rising Plain generation will find it easy to concede that propeller-driven aircraft confined to Earth are now close enough to horses and buggies by comparison."

Rickard Kruger, maternal-side cousin to Huldah Spafford, beamed the tacit "Amen" out of his blue eyes.

The plane landed at the nearest airstrip to where the west Pennsylvania town of Hermitage had existed, before the Pinkshirts in their prime as a gang of cowardly bullies had wrecked it because it had been a nest of Christian love and holiness. The most prominent minister in Heritage, a gentleman ordained by the Foursquare Gospel denomination, had not been spared from eviction even by the fact that he was a vegetarian. His headquarters had been as thoroughly demolished as the town of Smoky Lake was. But a Quaker hamlet was growing now, close to the ruins. By now, they no longer felt any sting from the old "Ku Klux Quakers" calumny.




''Mother, isn't that the Apache brave who says he's a believer but he kills people?" The local boy asking this question was named in honor of George Fox, the British founder of the Society of Friends, a.k.a. the Quakers. Where Amish men were distinguished by not wearing moustaches, traditional Quaker men were distinguished by dressing in black. After migrating to Pennsylvania, the Quakers had earned a highly favorable reputation among Native tribes for friendliness and honesty. So much so, that one chief had told white leaders: "We will not speak with any paleface except the Black Coats, because they speak truth."

"Quiet, George. Mister Spafford IS a believer. What did your father teach you about the Sixth Commandment?"

"Papa told me that the verb 'ratsah' in that Commandment DOESN'T mean all taking of life equally; it only means criminal murder or private revenge."

"Very good. And do you remember about Daniel Boone?"

"Yes, Mother. He was an adopted member of the Shawnee nation. Also a Quaker, but he fought in the Revolutionary War."





Lying in bed beside an already-sleeping Summer, Alipang wandered in thought.

I have a daughter whom I named after my first sister. Already, Summer and I have a whole battalion of children, with Evita sharing our blood, all this enough to remind me that there was an old movie called Yours, Mine and Ours. But if we could have one more daughter, SHE could carry my mother's name, and this would mean it never was God's will for me to make "Yolanda" Evita's middle name.

I remember-- after Blake Matthews rescued us from those gangsters-- when Kim and I were finally allowed to consummate our marriage-- we felt like we were entering a new world. No reason why the new Yolanda shouldn't get her turn at a new world.

When he fell asleep, Alipang dreamed that the baby WAS a girl, therefore she was Yolanda. Her facial features were indistinct, but Alipang knew by dream-knowledge that this was his daughter yet to come. It seemed that this Yolanda Havens was definitely meant to find her own new world. Furthermore, without fine details, there was an indication that she would meet, and love, a good man by the surname of Culhane.

Moreover, that this Mister Culhane would become the means by whom a branch of Alipang's bloodline would be transferred to someplace where those descendants would not be easy targets for any predatory successors of the overthrown Fairness Party predators.
 
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Chapter 153: MEASURE TWICE, CUT ONCE

"Miss Jalil, are the wells progressing?" So asked Sigurd Longmont, the carpenter who was expertly creating the skeleton of a roof. The stonemasons who had built the foundation below him were now miles away, laying a larger foundation for a boarding school dormitory.

"They are," the not-quite-nun from the Bridge-Building Sorority replied. "The newest volunteers are just now figuring out how their mentors prevent the water from leaking laterally and spreading back into the soil."

Jalil had come far enough out of her former way of life that she no longer needed to be celibate, anymore than Alipang and Summer Havens needed to. The old identity had gained enough mentoring and healing from just the proximity of nuns, that now Jalil was fully able to stay on the right path without entering a convent. Now she could be a wife and a mother, and could pass both physical heredity and her hard-won wisdom to her children and other children. Jalil, in fact, would marry Sigurd Longmont before another year had passed..... and, like Alipang Havens, they would help to provide humanity with future people who would not sluggishly conform to the tyranny which was destined to shape the 22nd century.



In an average Burmese town, seventy kilometers from the city where orbital worker Nyunt Zehar was enjoying his retirement and his grandchildren, two sharp-faced Chinese women were casually drinking laphet yai in a teahouse.

"She is too friendly with white and black people," grumbled Jin Sai-Mu. "She will not commit herself to facilitating our wise guidance of how the new and old Vaticans may extend their influence to Mars." Sai-Mu was referring to Pang Biao-Tu, who had never ceased networking for constructive purposes.

Chi Ta-Poi replied: "Never forget that it was we who invented the concept of 'the long game.' We need that policy. We're young enough. It will be years yet before the Hindus are well entrenched on Huo-Zhing." {This was the Chinese name for Mars.} "Earth, well, Earth and the Moon are still the hub for wider human space exploration. We monitor anyone's space flights, but control the infrastructure."

"Our hold won't be secure anyplace until we're solid here."

"Indeed. Biao-Tu must be neutralized. Well, eventually. We undermine here, sow dissension there; sneak our tentacles into cracks and pipelines. We have to be integrated everywhere. Leave her no safe den. Our war will be integral."
 
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HERE, FOR GERALYN'S BENEFIT, IS WHERE I WILL INTRODUCE TWO CHARACTERS NAMED SHERRAMIN ROBERTS AND JORDAN TRAVIS. SHE WORKS WITH OSMAWANI'S BRIDGE BUILDERS SORORITY, AND WITH OSMAWANI'S FIANCE, THE CARPENTER SIGURD LONGMONT; JORDAN TRAVIS IS A LOCAL GAME WARDEN.

-------------- As I've said elsewhere, watch this space. Sherramin and Jordan, as with those quasi-Star Trek veterans Jeralyn Dodger and Roland Cavett, are self-inserts of actual Geralyn and actual Copperfox. ot chores to do.

IT IS EIGHT P.M. ON MARCH NINETEENTH HERE IN COLORADO, AS I REVISIT THIS STORY-POST WHICH WAS WAITING FOR ME FINALLY TO DO SOMETHING WITH IT. There was an appointment for me to drive Wood Nymph to; there was Geralyn's chemotherapy situation in Florida for me to worry about helplessly. There was my chemotherapy- veteran housemate Ardis for me to confer with about managing her laundry. And there was EveningStar waiting for me to let him know how soon Wood Nymph and I will be ready conclusively to record our voice parts for "THE VISITOR."

Gotta do stuff so I can do other stuff! Back to the wall, not getting any younger, I can only hope I'm doing justice to the unforgettable character of Summer Heron Rand Havens-- because Alipang has to bury THREE wives before I can let Pang Biao-Tu bury HIM in the neighborhood of 2080.


vvvvvvvvv NARRATIVE DETAIL: The man in my latest Geralyn-and-me couple is half black African. vvvvvvvv

"Are you sure this rhino remembers you?" Wildlife researcher Marilyn Hodges looked like, and was the same age as, redhead actress Ann Sheridan in her prime. but Marilyn had never been this close to any uncaged rhinoceros, of any age. She couldn't help remembering the long-preserved anecdote about a man who nearly got himself killed when he tried performing interpretive dance right in front of a gorilla.


"Yes, he knows me," game warden Jordan Travis assured the woman he was becoming fond of. '"At our first meeting, he was not so young as to mistake me for his mother; but he surely does remember me pulling him out of riverbank mud before he attracted attention from hippos."

The adult bull rhinoceros, carefully watching where his horn went, rubbed his face against Jordan's face, while Jordan scratched the friendly brute's left ear. "If Ranjit and his family get here soon enough, they'll want to take pictures."

"Maybe the Karkals are busy photographing meerkats," Marilyn guessed.

When the Karkals did show up, everyone discussed the often-reported events surrounding the relocation of Mount Zion into space as a physical object, and the relocation of the Roman Papacy as an institution.

THIS IS FAREWELL TO ANOTHER BATCH OF CHARACTERS. YOU ARE INVITED TO ASSUME THAT MARILYN AND JORDAN GET MARRIED, BUT THAT THEIR CHILDREN ALL EVENTUALLY DEPART FROM FAITH IN JESUS. IT HAPPENS.

THAT'S A KIND OF GRIEF WHICH REAL-WORLD GERALYN ROGERS UNFORTUNATELY DOES KNOW ABOUT.
 
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Not everyone who enters eternity has the chance to say goodbye. Cecilia Fairhope Havens died in her sleep; but Eric knew Whom he had believed, and was persuaded that Jesus was able to keep what was committed to Him. Far from collapsing in grief, Eric Havens forged ahead with writing They'll Call This Hate Speech. He and Cecilia had long brainstormed strategy for scattering physical copies of the book, to maximize the chances for someone to find one and benefit by it. By being in Heaven, Cecilia received advance notice that her husband's book would one day be discovered by a young man called Eliot Aristede Granholm.

Less than two years after being widowed, Eric in turn was called Upstairs-- but in his case, not before enjoying good family time with everybody available who mattered-- even including descendants of his old Free Clinic dental partner Luis Quintero. Eulogizing his father-in-every- way-that-mattered, Alipang recalled the day when Eric, not a soldier, and even with a missing hand, had fought to protect his family.




The boy looked at Summer as if she were a star in the stun-jazz genre. "Ms. Havens, you're great in your own right as a performer; but if you don't mind my asking, are you actually meeting many piano students who have one or more missing digits?"

Grinning, Summer held up her left hand which had lost the ring and baby fingers. Wiggling the surviving digits: "Twice this many, though none with exactly the same arrangement of amputation. One old guy had the same pattern, only on his right hand." The one-woman show-and-lecture she was giving had an audience whose members had suffered similar dismemberment, or knew someone who had. Between all-original tunes, she shared anecdotes and answered questions, many of these concerning her history with Evan and Alipang. The latter was watching from the third row, and the former (with Kimberly) was watching from above. Alipang, never forgetting his love of poetry, recited Rudyard Kipling's "Recessional," emphasizing "The captains and the kings depart."

Later, at home, with Yolanda their youngest joining them, Summer and Alipang talked about old times, definitely going back well before Yolanda had been born and had received her grandmother's name.

And that night, a queen was to depart.

The tree in which Alipang had first beheld Summer now stood in front of the horse-boarding stable which used to be operated by the Tisdale family. Blake Matthews, once Wilson Kramer's comrade in the SEALs, was the only person in sight.

"Great to see you, Filipino Fireball. I'm detailed to meet you because I'm someone God once used for your benefit. You've weathered losses and affliction, but you held your head high. Your enlistment is far from over, and I know you'll carry on. Time for an important briefing. Listen and absorb."

The rugged veteran disappeared. Then Summer materialized in his place..... and her left hand had its missing fingers again. Before Alipang could show a reaction to this fact, she approached..... and in one suspended moment, gave him all of the kisses she had ever given him. Her voice, then, was the voice of the teenage girl who had faithfully looked after her father.

"Alipang, my second love, listen. You've borne your burdens, even when your only reward for bearing them was having to have to bear more burdens."

Alipang found his first smile in this dream. "That sounds like a line from The Horse and His Boy."

"Close enough, Al. You and Mister Lewis both endured bereavement; now you have to accept outdoing him there."

He held her tightly; she felt real enough. Of course, redeemed souls in Heaven had new bodies. "Summer? You've already died, haven't you?"

She kissed him again, a kiss realer than real. "Yes, I have. You'll wake up to see the earthly reality: my unbreathing body, the smell of a large intestine voiding. I had a moment to feel it coming, and I asked God to let me say goodbye. Now you won't have to struggle vainly to resuscitate, won't have to feel that you failed. We will meet again." One more kiss. "For now, just as Kim doesn't mind me having had a turn with you, and as Evan doesn't mind you having had a turn with me, Kim and I will release you from any duty to finish your days without a partner."

"Are you going to tell me who? Anyone I already know?"

"Perhaps.... There will be a sign. There'll be a day when a woman asks you about that Christmas flash mob outside the shopping mall. Just don't jinx it by trying to make female acquaintances talk about singing Christmas carols. Moreover, when you do recognize her, don't blurt it out right then."

Alipang almost laughed. "I seem to recall that I managed to be patient with Kim." One more kiss.

"I love you, Alipang. We will be together again where there is no resentful competition. Like that stupid game Equalityball, if playing Equalityball were a way to honor the Trinity. Remember the saying, 'God does all things for each.' The Lord will make first responders understand that you are not culpable in any way at all. If what I say seems unfinished, it's because we will resume the conversation when you're HOME."

Just like that, Summer was gone, and her vacated body lay cold and inert.
 
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NOTE TO SELF, REMEMBER D.K., WHO REFUSED TO PERFORM IN "DARK OF THE MOON."




CHAPTER 154: Events Overflow

Literally thousands of people, singers included, showed up for Summer's outdoor memorial service; far fewer would be present for the interment. Alipang spared no thought for the predicted reference to that long- ago Christmas caroling excursion. However, he would remember later that no one had spoken of it.

One friend of his who was at the interment was the woman who had gone by the nickname of Curving Breeze. She didn't touch him; both remembered how some folks had imagined a romance between the two dissimilar martial artists. But her empathy was detectable while she stood near him.

"You've ridden this wagon before, Al. But you are a man for all seasons. The G-rated tango you and I danced that day proves your lightning adaptability. Slow or fast, you'll adjust."

"Sounds like I've absorbed some Tai Chi after all."

Curving Breese belatedly hugged him. Besides the legitimate moral support, this enabled her to whisper something helpful into his ear. "Literal Tai Chi is exactly what you can use now. I mean the fitness exercises precisely for older men. I'll give you an instruction pamphlet." The pamphlet would prove to contain drawings of actions chosen to give genuine exercise without straining any joints or causing him to gasp for air. He hugged her back and thanked her.

In the following weeks, precious condolence visits pleasingly took up time, which indirectly affirmed the value of a workout which only needed seven minutes per day. Alipang neither concealed, nor dwelt upon, this new pastime. There were, of course, more than enough extended-family members to feed him and listen to him in a loving rotation. His own children, be they by Kim or by Summer, were particularly consistent. Then there was a loving reserve army, executing an affectionate caracole through the Havens residence. Among these were John Wisebadger, Henry and Huldah Spafford, Sunki Pavateya, Terrance and Harmony Havens-Havens, Nyunt Zeyar, Josiah and Melody Redfern, Zella Greenlee, Larry Mannering, Spiro Trivizas, and many more.

When an emotionally neutral subject was called for, some inquired about the alteration performed on Alipang's forearms and feet. He would reply: "Just as Miss Pang predicted, my body is adapting. I no longer have dinner plate-sized layers of skin dropping off at intervals."

John, the Arapahoe elder, nodded. "I believe God has concrete plans for you to use this alteration for some good purpose. Maybe a year from now, maybe a decade."





Alipang no longer needed to work; his past services to humanity had earned generous annuities for him from the reconstituted United States, Australia, Mexico, Brazil, Armenia, and even China (the last having been facilitated for him by his old friend Yang Sung-Kuo). So he could give to charitable causes without worry, and could hold new Escrima classes at will. Since he lived frugally, he was free to endow reasonable trust funds for his small army of children, nieces, nephews and proteges, who were growing up relentlessly.

Three years after the trust funds were activated, his pain from losing Summer was mostly faded. The only thing which could revive the pain at full strength was hearing "The Boys of Summer." That song would never even be bearable, except when he could imagine the phrase "I'm gonna get you back" as reinforcing his expectation of a Heavenly reunion. At least he could keep from sobbing out loud if he heard the song by chance.

Four years after he had made this much emotional progress, he received a trans-Atlantic visitor: Darcie BealeS the hazardous-waste specialist who had assisted Brendan's operations in Africa. During her visit, a message arrived from Melody and Emilio in Greater Mexico: Alipang, now that we're not in a shooting war, and we can spend money where we'd like to spend it, what would you think of starting a project of rebuilding Smoky Lake from the ground up, house by house to the best of anyone's memory?

As soon as Alipang shared this with Darcie, she gave him a perfect G-rated hug, saying, "DO IT!"





+ I+ +++
 
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oo oo Pang Wei-Hua is Biao-Tu's uncle & cohabitant oo Biao is thus both mother & cousin to Pang Wei-Chi. \\ Wei-Hua is on board oo oo

(THIS MIGHT BE RELOCATED UP OR DOWN, depending on how soon I need to reveal Biao-Tu's preference not to abort)
 
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New Major Section: "THE POSSIBLE HERITAGE OF ALIPANG HAVENS"

>>> Chapter 155: IN LIVES WELL LIVED

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