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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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