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                                       Written By: Pierce Gates

 

 

            Recently I promised F. John Surells I’d “answer” his piece entitled “Capturings” if indeed it

 

was ever published on the internet. Well, here I am, keeping that promise. But I’ve learned that my

 

answer can’t be crafted as one single entity.

 

            And, I fear it consists of miscellaneous musings, some of which, it shouldn’t surprise me,

 

may be considered simply a waste of readers’ time. But then, that was “the theme,” or so it seemed

 

to me, of John’s piece – the one which provoked this response. Yes, he spoke of how haphazardly

 

conceived thoughts often parent a very real confusion which, whether we wish to admit it or not,

 

must then be “dealt with” by all humanity.

 

            And, sometimes in the reality of the life I live, I find myself needing to assert what’s, in my

 

opinion at least, really important. And I need to do so, I believe, because I’m a mortal whose faith is

 

strong, but whose willpower is easily swayed toward nihilism.

 

            And as I’m writing this today, I’m again learning how very difficult it is to accurately and

 

satisfactorily document all that one feels one should disclose at any certain time. And that

 

realization, for me, is entombed within my acknowledgement of the fact that the particular city in

 

which I live has acquired a reputation for strange occurrences and other-reality interventions. And

 

the fact that planet Earth has parallel, or sibling realities, has also been disclosed basically as a

 

result of activities undertaken in this city.

 

            But today, as I search back to all I’ve ever known (and can still remember), I’m finding

 

myself staring at mental sights I really can’t ascribe as being substantially satisfying, though I’ve

 

been successful in the workforce (for the most part). I came to this city years ago as a recent college

 

graduate, and Mr. Maes (Lauren’s father) apparently was impressed with me when I interviewed for

 

a job at his factory, and hired me as a “management trainee.” Well, it wasn’t long before I was a full

 

part of management, and then shortly thereafter I obtained the title “Plant Superintendent.” But I

 

wish all had been as good on the home front as it was at work.

 

            Rebecca was a good-looking woman. She worked at the factory also. I suppose the two of us

 

should have known better but to fall in love (at least I loved her, and thought she loved me) and get

 

married. Nonetheless, we did those things, and in the third year of the marriage problems began to

 

surface. She became more distant toward me, and I suspected she was having an affair with

 

someone else. But I’ll never know the truth or falsehood of that suspicion. I’ll never know whether

 

she has a secret lover or not. Yet, at least I know I’ll never know.

 

            And, I suppose it was because of my doubts about Becky, as well as the burden of

 

responsibility I shouldered at work, that I failed to take any meaningful steps to save our marriage.

 

Sometimes I’d stay up late at night watching movies on television; and on one particular night I saw

 

an old firm about Buddy Holly, one of the great rock and roll stars of the 1950’s. And this film had

 

a profound effect upon me for some reason, and then, soon thereafter, I found myself attempting to

 

mimic the 1950’s lifestyle, as well as trying to “adopt” the “mindset” that apparently was prevalent

 

in the U.S. at that time. And, as you may expect, those changes and the developments they led to

 

didn’t “sit will” with my wife. And I can still hear her saying as she walked out of our house for the

 

last time “You know Pierce, when I was a little girl, and later a young woman, I used to fear that

 

someday I’d lose a husband to either an extra-marital affair, physical abuse of me, some sort of

 

substance abuse, or more likely a combination of two or even all three of those, but I never dreamed

 

I lose one because of his trying to live in the past.”

 

            And so she left that day, and we were divorced soon thereafter. And looking back now on

 

our three years of marriage, I can’t truthfully say I wish they hadn’t happened. I’m glad now that

 

we didn’t become parents. But of course I’m troubled by the fact that as I stated earlier, I don’t

 

know that I’ll ever know all that was really going on between us – and others. Yet, as I also said,

 

though I’d lost her, I’d acquired a different outlook on life, and a chance, I guess, to seemingly exist

 

in the past. And my second installment of “Captured” shall deal with that phenomenon and some of

 

its repercussions.

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