D Beau Williams second chance 1.8
The prophetic words of Mr. Rate were proved out. Whoever fired that FBI Agent's probably politically dead now. That's how conspiracy works.
Sure enough, 3 weeks after breaking his promise, Beau learned, via Social Media, that he had been fired, ending 33 years of government service. His family returned to their farm in their native Alabama.
Daisy, I know a lot has happened and I don't want it to come between us, Beau said.
Daisy May paused searching for the right words. Beauregard, we have been married for 41 years. In that time, I have tried to live my life so that you can have full confidence in me, to manage our household so that you lack nothing of value.
With your blessing, I have been building a clothing company focusing on wool and flax and it is doing well. Even if they do to you, what you did to that man, God will provide for us though that.
Time passed. Beau was mostly alone, his home church, Mt. Ararat Baptist, accepted him back, people generally tried to be supportive, but didn't want to get too close. His boyhood friends had changed, just like he had changed. They all knew there was a common bond, it seemed far away.
Beau tried reading the bible, but sometimes his heart just wasn't into it. Still, one passage resonated from Isaiah, "Remember not the former things, nor consider the things of old." Beau wasn't sure if he should be praying that, or trying to live it, maybe both.
As the weeks went by, Beau's focus became less of the former things, his decades of government service seemed like a dream and eventually he ceased to think of them and began to focus on the present. He had never really paid attention to the motivational sign above the mirror in the office bathroom, “If you want to conquer the anxiety of life, live in the moment, live in the breath.” ~Amit Ray", but today, while washing his face, he noticed it.
Even more weeks later, Beau started to look at the family finances; Daisy had always taken care of that sort of thing. Wow, they had a lot of money, not buy a 25m yacht that you only spend 2 weeks a year on rich, but set, able to pay the bills, go on a cruise, replace the roof or car when needed. He remembered his wife's words, "With your blessing, I have been building a clothing company focusing on wool and flax and it is doing well."
At lunch, Country fried steak and loose corn, Beau brought up the business. Daisy, I took a look at the family finances and it certainly . . ., it seems that . . .
DMW is doing well, she finished, holding him in a steadfast gaze.
He paused, wanting to be careful, in Washington, you never seemed to wear your own creations.
Oh I did, she said. I just didn't wear some of the most popular lines. DMW is favored by HNMNBies and with the Flat Earth Party in power, I didn't want to undermine your position. However, we have several lines that fit right in with the Washington crowd, after all Beau, not everything needs to be made of microfiber.
Thank you for lunch, he said, you make the finest milk gravy. Alone again, he was surprised that learning that HNMNBies were his wife's primary clientele didn't phase him. At one point, but no longer, every day that went by, he was less connected to the former things. Beaumont, had been a rising star, a principled man, but somehow over the years, tossed by this wind and that current, his values were based on his environment, the people around him, his party. Now was a time to find himself, what he believed, to expand his horizons, to live in the moment.
Maybe read a book, he thought. Almost all books were digital today and they had a large number on a blockchain, but his house had been in his family for generations, it had built in bookshelves filled with generations of books. For over 50 years, there had been a simple rule. The bookshelf has a fixed capacity, to make room for a new book, an older, less applicable one, needs to leave. Have you ever scanned a large bookshelf full of books? So many choices.
One with a green cover stood out, HNMNBM the Resistance, A survival manual. He pulled it off the shelf. It felt odd. After devoting over 20 years of his life to the Flat Earth Party he didn't want to be seen with the green book, might as well be a girlie magazine. So he wandered down to his shop, that special place of refuge for a man, and starting with the front matter, page by page, started reading the book.
Several hours later, Beau had worked his way to the references. There was a pointer to the list of persons that must not be mentioned and their oblitographies. Most, he knew, the 37th president, the 45th president, the USA gymnastics coach, (actually an amazing number of gymnastics coaches), and himself.
Gallows laugh, "could be worse, could be raining," the scene from Young Frankenstein came to mind. Thump, thump, thump, the sound of Beau's head hitting the worktable. He was never a drinker, devil's brew, but there was a bottle of Southern Comfort that had sat on the shelf, unopened, for 40 years. Dusted it off and poured a glass, it was terrible, just what he needed.
The one drink hit the inexperienced imbiber hard, and coupled with all the emotions and soon he was head down on the old growth pine workbench. And in his dream:
BEGIN DREAM:
RING RING
To his right was an old school rotary dial phone, black of course. He picked it up.
Beauregard, it's Marshall, Daisy's father
Yes sir!
I've been wanting to talk with you, harder than you might guess, good news it is now a local call, until recently this number has been long distance. Guess something changed?
Yes sir, more has changed that anyone could have expected from a 72 year old son of the South.
Change is usually uncomfortable Beauregard, that doesn't make it bad.
Yes sir.
There's a long line of folk waiting to use the phone, so I'll get straight to the point. You broke a promise and a man got hurt over it, turns out it didn't do you any good either. You've got to make this right son.
Sir, I’ve given that thought...
Son, that's what you said at your confirmation hearing before making that promise, those exact words, Do we need to finish this discussion eye to eye? Phone doesn't seem to work.
Cold spread through Beaumont, he could feel every heartbeat, every breath. He was falling, no, maybe being transmitted though a tunnel, then, NO. He broke through that level of the dream back to the phone call.
Sir, I made a mistake. I was wrong. I cannot let that mistake be what defines me. I will go make it right. I will get on an airplane tonight, set up camp outside of his door, wait till he let's me apologize, and then work with him to make it right, whatever it takes.
CALL ENDED. BZZZMMMMMMMMMMM
END DREAM.
Beauregard woke up, went to the bathroom, splashed water on his face, read the sign, live in the moment. He walked back to the workbench, picked up the bottle of Southern Comfort with 1 glass missing, put it back on the shelf, see you in 40 years, he said to the bottle. Walked back to the phone, picked it up, noticed the cord dangling in the air, it wasn't connected to anything, but somehow that made the dream more real. The old men will dream dreams.
Sure enough, 3 weeks after breaking his promise, Beau learned, via Social Media, that he had been fired, ending 33 years of government service. His family returned to their farm in their native Alabama.
Daisy, I know a lot has happened and I don't want it to come between us, Beau said.
Daisy May paused searching for the right words. Beauregard, we have been married for 41 years. In that time, I have tried to live my life so that you can have full confidence in me, to manage our household so that you lack nothing of value.
With your blessing, I have been building a clothing company focusing on wool and flax and it is doing well. Even if they do to you, what you did to that man, God will provide for us though that.
Time passed. Beau was mostly alone, his home church, Mt. Ararat Baptist, accepted him back, people generally tried to be supportive, but didn't want to get too close. His boyhood friends had changed, just like he had changed. They all knew there was a common bond, it seemed far away.
Beau tried reading the bible, but sometimes his heart just wasn't into it. Still, one passage resonated from Isaiah, "Remember not the former things, nor consider the things of old." Beau wasn't sure if he should be praying that, or trying to live it, maybe both.
As the weeks went by, Beau's focus became less of the former things, his decades of government service seemed like a dream and eventually he ceased to think of them and began to focus on the present. He had never really paid attention to the motivational sign above the mirror in the office bathroom, “If you want to conquer the anxiety of life, live in the moment, live in the breath.” ~Amit Ray", but today, while washing his face, he noticed it.
Even more weeks later, Beau started to look at the family finances; Daisy had always taken care of that sort of thing. Wow, they had a lot of money, not buy a 25m yacht that you only spend 2 weeks a year on rich, but set, able to pay the bills, go on a cruise, replace the roof or car when needed. He remembered his wife's words, "With your blessing, I have been building a clothing company focusing on wool and flax and it is doing well."
At lunch, Country fried steak and loose corn, Beau brought up the business. Daisy, I took a look at the family finances and it certainly . . ., it seems that . . .
DMW is doing well, she finished, holding him in a steadfast gaze.
He paused, wanting to be careful, in Washington, you never seemed to wear your own creations.
Oh I did, she said. I just didn't wear some of the most popular lines. DMW is favored by HNMNBies and with the Flat Earth Party in power, I didn't want to undermine your position. However, we have several lines that fit right in with the Washington crowd, after all Beau, not everything needs to be made of microfiber.
Thank you for lunch, he said, you make the finest milk gravy. Alone again, he was surprised that learning that HNMNBies were his wife's primary clientele didn't phase him. At one point, but no longer, every day that went by, he was less connected to the former things. Beaumont, had been a rising star, a principled man, but somehow over the years, tossed by this wind and that current, his values were based on his environment, the people around him, his party. Now was a time to find himself, what he believed, to expand his horizons, to live in the moment.
Maybe read a book, he thought. Almost all books were digital today and they had a large number on a blockchain, but his house had been in his family for generations, it had built in bookshelves filled with generations of books. For over 50 years, there had been a simple rule. The bookshelf has a fixed capacity, to make room for a new book, an older, less applicable one, needs to leave. Have you ever scanned a large bookshelf full of books? So many choices.
One with a green cover stood out, HNMNBM the Resistance, A survival manual. He pulled it off the shelf. It felt odd. After devoting over 20 years of his life to the Flat Earth Party he didn't want to be seen with the green book, might as well be a girlie magazine. So he wandered down to his shop, that special place of refuge for a man, and starting with the front matter, page by page, started reading the book.
Several hours later, Beau had worked his way to the references. There was a pointer to the list of persons that must not be mentioned and their oblitographies. Most, he knew, the 37th president, the 45th president, the USA gymnastics coach, (actually an amazing number of gymnastics coaches), and himself.
Gallows laugh, "could be worse, could be raining," the scene from Young Frankenstein came to mind. Thump, thump, thump, the sound of Beau's head hitting the worktable. He was never a drinker, devil's brew, but there was a bottle of Southern Comfort that had sat on the shelf, unopened, for 40 years. Dusted it off and poured a glass, it was terrible, just what he needed.
The one drink hit the inexperienced imbiber hard, and coupled with all the emotions and soon he was head down on the old growth pine workbench. And in his dream:
RING RING
To his right was an old school rotary dial phone, black of course. He picked it up.
Beauregard, it's Marshall, Daisy's father
Yes sir!
I've been wanting to talk with you, harder than you might guess, good news it is now a local call, until recently this number has been long distance. Guess something changed?
Yes sir, more has changed that anyone could have expected from a 72 year old son of the South.
Change is usually uncomfortable Beauregard, that doesn't make it bad.
Yes sir.
There's a long line of folk waiting to use the phone, so I'll get straight to the point. You broke a promise and a man got hurt over it, turns out it didn't do you any good either. You've got to make this right son.
Sir, I’ve given that thought...
Son, that's what you said at your confirmation hearing before making that promise, those exact words, Do we need to finish this discussion eye to eye? Phone doesn't seem to work.
Cold spread through Beaumont, he could feel every heartbeat, every breath. He was falling, no, maybe being transmitted though a tunnel, then, NO. He broke through that level of the dream back to the phone call.
Sir, I made a mistake. I was wrong. I cannot let that mistake be what defines me. I will go make it right. I will get on an airplane tonight, set up camp outside of his door, wait till he let's me apologize, and then work with him to make it right, whatever it takes.
CALL ENDED. BZZZMMMMMMMMMMM
END DREAM.
Beauregard woke up, went to the bathroom, splashed water on his face, read the sign, live in the moment. He walked back to the workbench, picked up the bottle of Southern Comfort with 1 glass missing, put it back on the shelf, see you in 40 years, he said to the bottle. Walked back to the phone, picked it up, noticed the cord dangling in the air, it wasn't connected to anything, but somehow that made the dream more real. The old men will dream dreams.
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