If some forty years ago you told me that one day I will be 70 years of age, my imagination would probably create a picture of a bent in half old man with a walking stick crawling out of bathroom with his pants down, looking for his false teeth soaking in a glass of water.
I am 71 and none of these things happened.
OK, my hair grew gray, (but I have them all), my teeth are still there, (all mine), and I can do as much as I used to do when I was 30.
I grew wiser, more cynical, more mature and still young enough to face whatever life throws at me.
I get a flue from time to time just like everybody else and I don’t get vaccinations nor do I see a doctor because the system deprived me of my Social Security benefits, my Medicare and many rights that should come with my US citizenship I got some years back, just like anyone who crossed Rio Grande.
It does not mean I’ve lost my Battle of Thermopylae, not that I quit fighting for what is mine, but most of all I believe in me and decisions about my life and death belongs to me.
I probably will never cross the Alps like Hannibal during Second Punic War and win by losing, or lose by winning, and not because of my age, I am simply short of the elephants to do the crossing.
Remember? – Free people fight and win.
So the question remains – Should I cross the Rubicon ?
I guess I haven’t done it yet and I still can go back to my rebelious ways of doing things the way I always did and I still can decide if my physical existance is worth a continuation.
The “Land of the Free” looks more and more like the “Land of the Fee” and me being free is not an American hoopla, it is my nature and my virtue.
I still love all my good and bad habits, my espresso in the morning, my cigarettes I smoke and of course pretty girls and a good company of free people.
So what have I lost?
Well, I lost my trust in this USA and its honesty, I lost my belief in American Constitution, in the big words coming from the lips of the crooked politicians and in my will to live in this country packed up to the ceiling with lies.
I have survived the ignorance and dishonesty of the biggest spook agency in the world the CIA, and even though American Government broke the contracts and stole my means of survival running into six figures I am still free and proud of myself and the “Cold War Championship” belt given to me by those I really care for reminds me who I am.
The “Land of Opportunities” somehow skipped on me and the “Certificate of Recognition” for the Cold War sent to me by mail, signed by Donald Rumsfeld is not worth the paper it is printed on.
Gaius Suetonius Tranquillus, the Roman historian wrote that “Crossing the Rubicon” means to pass a point of no return and it happened to Julius Ceasar who crossed that Rubicon River in a year 49 BC, that meant starting a war he dreaded.
If I cross my Rubicon it will be on my terms without regret or tears and without atributing it to a supernatural apparition.
I love to hate my enemies, and there are too many to mention. They know who they are.
Amazingly I don’t hate America but I certainly don’t love it. America is like a pretty girl you fall in a puppy love and then one day you find out she is a whore. Not even a prostitute, just a whore. Suddenly the love is gone forever and never comes back and only the bad taste in your mouth remains.
You see, the prostitute is a pitiful profession, a whore is the character.
I love my very few remaining friends with whom I may share my thoughts and ideas. I do not have many friends but those I have are real diamonds.
I admire two unnamed here individuals whom I meet once or twice a month who truly believe they can help me and stop me from crossing the Rubicon.
Strange enough both are from distant lands and both have my devotion.
I also admire young people protesting in front of Scientology so called “church” and I hate the cults and stupidity and lies growing stronger and wider all across the country.
My secret of being free forever is staying young, believing in myself and looking straight in the eyes of the foes.
Sometimes I think I am younger than my children with my ideas that any teenager might envy.
All my life I was a fighter, I fought and I won and lost a few times my battles, but I always carried my head high and free even in Communist prison in Poland.
I was free when I crossed the Communist borders in 64 making it to the West and I was free when Danes put me in prison for the unannounced arrival to their country.
I felt free to use just a few learned words in their unpronouncible lingo known as Danish, knowing that it was exposing myself to a laughter and ridicule by half-wits, but I was free to dare to say it my way.
Now I am free to communicate with the people in many languages, the knowledge of languages give me an extra noch in being free.
Years back I was free to risk fighting in the uprisings. The wistling bullets I knew could not kill me, because bullets kill only those who are slaves of their fears and preminitions.
I was also quite free to run an undercover work against my enemies and when they shot a poison into my body I survived because I was free.
Free means to have an attitude of being free whatever happens, whatever system you live under and never quit being a free rebel, carrying your head up and planning a future.
“What future?” – a young fellow who reads these words might ask. “You are 71 and there is no future for you just a casket on a horison.”
I have shared my personality with enough people and it will extend my life forever to such degree that I am not afraid of death, casket and the six feet of dirt on top of me.
I will still live in this what I leave behind, even if it is only this page or many thousands pages of my predecessors’ history going a thousand years back who’s spirits live forever because they were free.
Slavery is the state of mind and so is freedom. They are like a dark night versus a sunny day, like murky waters of a sewer versus a gentle sea waves kissing the beach.
OK, you will say; One day you will die.
I don’t fear the death, I went through my life walking with death hand in hand and I don’t fear the Grim Reaper.
Death is a part of life experience, a great finale in La Scala and an extension of existance of mind, but I will not die whole.
I will still be here and I will still be free.
Therefore – Stay safe, stay free.