End of the Line
The year was 1954. A young man sat in a dingy subway car at the 205 Street Bronx subway station. The station was the end of the line, or the beginning of the line depending whether a passenger was getting on or off. Soon the car would begin its rattling journey back again to Manhattan and Queens .
Dirty windows reflected back a boyish grin, and a near empty brain.
Foolish ideas were falling like brown leaves in autumn.
Green buds would replace them, but there soon would be a time when there would be no more green buds, no more D trains. As he sat there, death was the last thought in his immature mind, it could never happen to him.
Fifty-four years later a doctor gave him the good news. “You may have another 5 -10 years left.” The bad news was of course, “You only have another 5-10 years left.”
The doctor smiled nervously, “No big time bad news here. I remembered a patient with CLL who lived 15 years with only minor worsening. You will probably die of something else.”
Time to rejoice in the good news. No time for tears. Cheers!
The subway doors rattled shut; the car momentarily lurched backward as if afraid of the future, and then rumbled off into the dark tunnel.
Later in the day the D train returned to the last stop in the Bronx without the reflected image of the guileless boy. Eventually, the old subway car would be replaced by a shiny new car; the boy would be replaced by an old man at his last stop. He heard the closing doors behind him.
The old D subway car would soon become scrap metal; eventually it would become molecules floating in space, floating with those of the old man.
His ashes, plus a few teeth, two plates and four screws from his back surgery, would be carefully brushed into an urn. The urn would be placed in a sacred nitch soon to be forgotten. The old man expected and wanted nothing more. No more D trains; no more green buds, no more friends, no more love.
Some think it should be comforting in the dark nitch. A loving wife would be at the old man’s side. What more could he ask?
The sacred nitch was closed, never to be opened again to let in a ray of sunshine, a grain of pollen, or a bird-song.
But, before this all happens I intend to leave something else behind, my thoughts about science and superstition. Each blog will contain an essay, a poem, or a fictional tale about science and/or superstition. Perhaps some of you will enjoy reading about the new and exciting developments in evolution. Symbiogenesis will blow your mind as will epigenetic controls over our DNA. Darwin, if he were alive, would be delighted with the new science of evolution. I will deal with the eyewitness account that Darwin recanted his theory and accepted Christ on his deathbed.
What about healing prayer? Does it really work? Are there reliable scientific data proving the claim? Also, did Einstein believe in a deity?
Did Galileo receive a pardon after suffering in hell for 358 years?
I hope some brave and curious readers offer their opinions. I’m willing and excited to learn something more before I get shoved into that nitch in the wall.
Thanks for the read. Craig