Creation: And God Said, "Let There Be Light!"

By Annie N. Mundeke

God exists, He is our Creator.
God created the world and everything in it.
God created the light.

And God said, "Let there be light," ?Genesis 1:3

And God said, "Let there be lights in the expanse of the sky
to separate the day from the night, and let them serve as signs to
mark seasons and days and years, and let them be lights in the
expanse of the sky to give light on the earth." And it was so.
?Genesis 1:14-15

Creation was written for boys and girls between the ages of eight and thirteen as a guidebook to the beautiful world that God created for us. It reminds us of the existence of God and His power to create. God created us in His image and God created the light. The book was designed to help children think about Creation in six days, the challenge of Creation and to help them use critical thinking as they think through the power and glory of God!

And God said, "Let there be light,"... ?Genesis 1:3

Did God really create light? Where does light come from? Think about it.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Nov 22, 2011
• ISBN: 9781450211093

Annie N. Mundeke

Dr. Annie N. Mundeke received a Ph.D. in cultural Anthropology from the University of South Florida, in Tampa, Florida. Annie is currently teaching courses in cultural Anthropology and African History in college in the United States.

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To all those who served

1

6 September 2002 General Franks meets with the president and the NSC to review war planning. The National Security Archive

Cant! Lies! and Deception! . . . Not any more, Saddam! Game’s over!! This and other such blared from Senator John McCulloch’s car radio on his way home following the signing of the resolution he sponsored authorizing the use of armed force against Iraq.

It was a fine autumn afternoon. The senior Republican senator from Texas was in high spirits and why not? At last he could proudly point to an accomplishment important enough to make it into the history books and not just into the Congressional Record. It was a truly major legislative milestone with which his name would be forever associated. This is why I came to Washington, he said aloud… . In contrast he chaffed at the non-stop praise streaming from the many talk-radio commentators. To the pundits, and to this one in particular, what mattered was the political impact of the legislation not its historical significance. He shook his head as he heard his name extolled every few minutes by that self-appointed, chubby cheerleader of the extreme right wing. This is going to boost the president’s already orbital approval ratings, he chortled, and, for sure, means a Republican Congress in ‘04. The president owes you big time, senator!

Asshole! he mumbled aloud. How ’bout military necessity? How ’bout just doing my job!

Moments later the senator pulled up to his large Georgetown town house to find his son waiting for him by the side of the driveway. Before his father could exit the car Jack, a strapping, very good looking six-foot-two, twenty-five year-old, ran up to the driver’s side of the car and shouted, CNN is saying your stamp on this legislation makes you next up at bat. You’re now the crown prince, Pop!

Without moving the senator studied the excitement in his son’s face, smiled at his enthusiasm then said as he got out of the car, What do they know? The senator gave his son a quick hand shake and both returned to the house to watch the evening news. It was the day’s biggest story.

What’s going to happen now, Pop?

If Saddam’s smart, Jack, he’ll play ball and show his cards. If not, the president has what he needs to take him out.

Look, there you are again… . The two watched another news cycle until dinner was called half an hour later.

Back home from another of her charity functions, Louise McCulloch, a tall, svelte, elegant and very good looking strawberry blonde, was setting the kitchen table for dinner. Kristen, the McCullochs’ oldest child, enjoying the last couple days of a scheduled recess prior to returning to graduate school in England, was putting the finishing touches on a huge bowl of Texas chili.

Busying herself with folding the napkins, Louise McCullough asked her daughter, What do you make of all the hoopla over the signing today?

Pop seems pumped. I guess it’s good for him, but I’m worried… It seems to me if you really wanted to enflame the Middle East, you couldn’t come up with a better plan than this trumped up…

This whole thing doesn’t smell right to me either. Why are we forgetting Osama bin, whatever he’s called? And why try to link Saddam with 9/11? I don’t get it. And if the whole war-thing is based on the WMD, why not let the poor inspectors find the stuff first? Iraq’s just agreed to let them back in.

I agree… . I want to be ‘First Daughter’ someday, but it’s not going to be easy if Pop continues to hitch his wagon to this JV president. He’s so hyped about sticking it to Iraq and making it seem it’s for 9/11. I can not understand what Pop sees in the man… . You know, every time I see our former governor on television, it’s like watching a pitch-perfect impression of ‘Alfred E. Newman’. That ‘what me worry?’ look…

Startled, but not very surprised by her daughter’s observation, Louise smiled and said, You know, I think you’re close, but I wouldn’t share that with your father, especially tonight… . Will you get the chips?

Sure.

And the salsa… it’s still in the fridge. Louise cracked open the kitchen door and yelled, Dinner’s ready.

At last we’re going to kick some ass! The senator said, as everyone gathered around the large kitchen table. Knowing it would irritate his left-leaning daughter, he went on to say, It’s a proud day to be an American!

Rising to the bait his daughter scolded, Oh, come off it, Pop.

He’s kidding, Kristen… lighten up and pass me the Tabasco… please.

It’s plenty hot already Kristen warned as she handed her brother the small, red bottle. Mother and daughter exchanged glances as though waiting for the other to begin asking their nettlesome questions, but neither dared start not wanting to put a damper on the senator’s high spirits. The abrupt hush made him wary. Ever since he had been elected, first as governor then president, the senator had regularly been reminded of his daughter’s disdain for the man to whom he had just delivered the power to make war. To avoid even the slightest possibility of what could be another tiresome and lengthy dissection of both his Authorization and the man who was expected to use it, the senator tried opening the dinner conversation with a mention of Jack’s recent acceptance for a post-graduate year at ‘Science-Po’ in Paris. Before he could start, the kitchen phone interrupted with a call for Kristen which she took in the living room.

After some initial enthusiasm at the opportunity to study at such a prestigious school, Jack’s opinion of this opportunity had begun to sour because of what he regarded as French obstructionism at the UN to the US stance on Iraq.

What’s with the French? he asked. They must have their fingers in a lot of pies over there to protest so much. France always seems prepared to get in our way. If we’re for it, they’re the first to be against it.

As she rejoined the dinner table Kristen volunteered, Just maybe, Jack, they’ve got something to say that we should…

Interrupting his daughter the senator said wistfully, If only all our allies were like the good ole Brits.

What were you going to say, Kristen? her mother asked.

Nothing.

What I think Kristen was going to say to you both was that maybe we shouldn’t be so quick to dismiss the French just because they disagree…

Nonsense, Louise. Jack’s right

All I am saying, Dad, is that maybe, at least for now, war is not the answer. It seems to me that all they’re proposing is to wait and see what the inspectors find. What’s so wrong with that? Why not let Hans Blix…

Kristen, he’s just another reason why the UN doesn’t work… one of their many, middling meddlers doing nothing more than getting in our way. Besides, we still don’t have a deal with Saddam on what Blix’s team can inspect.

Well, whenever he gets it organized, he should be allowed to do his job. He might just keep us from making a big mistake.

Kristen, give it a rest.

Give it a rest, Jack? Lighten up! Is this what now passes for dialogue at GW?

Stop it you two!

As I was saying… What we need is our guys in there, because if we don’t find the stuff soon, we’ll eventually find it popping up here in some suitcase bomb or in a can of… whatever. Also, Kristen, you’re assuming the Authorization makes the war inevitable. It doesn’t. If Saddam does what he’s told… in fact, you might consider my legislation just the sort of ‘encouragement’ he’s needed to start showing us what he’s got.

Pop’s right

Well, I still think we’re moving too fast… , Kristen persisted.

Too Fast? Jack asked with a smirk. How many more of those marshmallow UN resolutions is it going to take? It must be some kind of a record. And, Kristen, if the French should have learned anything, it’s that they never move fast enough. The last time they hesitated, Hitler invited himself to Paris. That’s not going to be a mistake this president will make.

Jack, what are they saying on campus?

Ahh. I don’t listen to anything said at school anymore, Pop. The professors are all left wingers and bend like reeds in the wind. They never take a stand on anything. Avoiding confrontation is their thing. That’s why everybody gets A’s these days. I don’t know where they’re going to cultivate the next crop of conservatives, but it’s certainly not going to be with any of their help. That’s another reason I am having second thoughts about studying in Paris. A school located on the Left Bank? I mean, c’mon…

It’ll look good on your resume.

Your mother’s right, Jack… .

Growing impatient with the drift of the conversation, Kristen interrupted. Let’s get back to Iraq. Pop, you say a war is not inevitable, but if you listen to all the excited talk coming out of the White House, you’d think we were going to get nuked next week. What’s that all about? Why aren’t we making the same fuss over North Korea? We never tried to take out the Soviets, and they really had something to worry about. What could this guy have…?

The Soviets weren’t terrorists, Kristen.

Oh, really? And what would you call the attempt on the pope… Pop?

That was different. That wasn’t terrorism that was… that was what we call a little executive action to keep the prying, Polish pope’s nose out of Polish politics. Remember ‘Solidarity’? We’ve had to do it ourselves once or twice. Helps keep the peace. Doesn’t make us a terrorist nation.

How was our help with the coups that eliminated Allende in Chile and before that Arbenz in Guatalema–that led to the deaths of hundreds–not terrorism? How ‘bout our many attempts to eliminate Castro?

C’mon, Kristen, they were all damn communists… . My God; this was to be a sort of a celebration. I came home tonight to share my triumph, our triumph, in the bosom of my family, and all I am getting is some Eastern Establishment crap, to put off what we’ve gotta do over there. I thought all my efforts would have been worth at least one attaboy!

I don’t feel that way, Pop.

Except for you, Jack.

Kristen is getting on your case because she’s a closet liberal and can’t bear it when our side gets it right.

"Not true, Daddy. I love you. We all love you. You were great today. You did what you thought was right. I am just a small voice, in fact, maybe not so small a voice, trying to be heard above the din coming from the White House that we have no reason to rush into this thing. To be wrong would be a calamity and certainly wouldn’t do you any good. And, Jack, I’m not a closet liberal, I am a Liberal."

The senator was spared any further defense of his Authorization when a second phone call, this time for Jack, effectively ended the dinner hour. Kristen excused herself to help her mother clear the table. Disappointed at the less than unanimous acclaim for his day’s work and feeling more than a little abandoned, the senator retreated to the den in search of some distraction. None of the many magazines strewn about piqued his interest so he turned to television until he heard his children leave for the evening. Louise had remained in the kitchen to clean up and was finishing wiping down the stove when the senator snuck up behind her, grabbed her by her still slender waist, and twisted her around to give her a kiss she hadn’t experienced since high school.

I’ve got to have you, Louise, and right now… . The children have gone out. We’re alone. I want you.

Honey, you know I have another committee meeting on Wednesday nights. It would be nice, but…

‘Nice’? . . . C’mon Louise… . Screw the committee and screw me.

John!! You’ve been dipping into that ‘sipping’ whiskey again?

Do I have to be a little in the bag to want my wife? I want to celebrate. C’mon, Louise… we’re almost never alone.

I can’t, John, not now, at least, but I promise I won’t be long. I’ll be back in an hour.

An hour, Louise? Damn it, I’m panting for you, and my wife is going to a committee meeting. Damn it!

I’ll be right back, I promise. And remember who insisted I get on all these damn committees. It was going to make you look good, you said. Well that’s what I am doing. I will be right back. I do love you, John.

In your own way, Louise, in your own way. "I know dear. Go on. I’ll see you when you get back." He kissed her gently on the forehead and let her go. She undid her apron, picked up her purse, and left through the kitchen door. The senator headed for the refrigerator, found another beer and returned to the den. All alone on his big night, he fell asleep watching a Law and Order re-run.

When Louise returned, significantly later than the promised I’ll be right back, she took off his shoes and swung his legs on to the sofa and placed a blanket over him for the night.

A couple hours later, the senator woke and put himself to bed. He was up early the next morning to chair a meeting with his defense committee to review for a third and last time the Secretary of Defense’s war planning group’s needs in the event the fighting were to go chemical or biological.

We’re going to let you in on a little secret, senator, said the planning group’s head. The generals have told us they’ve got to go in before the middle of March. If it’s much after the 15th, the heat and wind and carrying all that protective clothing will be more of an enemy than whatever the Iraqis could throw at us.

Regardless of what’s going on at the UN?

That can’t be their concern, they say. They’ve got a war to run, and to do it right they’ve got to jump off no later than mid-March.

Good. I wish it could be sooner. Have we left anything out?

‘No sir, I don’t believe we have. Everybody’s raring’ to go."

The senator adjourned the meeting. Assured that everyone and every unit had what it needed, he was surer than ever of the necessity of his legislation despite the grain of doubt seeded by his daughter’s comments the previous evening. Regarded by him as the smartest in the family, he was anxious to plumb a little deeper into why she considered the threat of the use of force, to be so wrong-headed. It also occurred to him that maybe her views might be shared by some of his constituents, although the mail from home, with very few exceptions, was consistently for taking action. Some negative reaction had come from Viet Nam veterans which made him take notice, but they were only a handful out of the hundreds who had taken the time to express their approval. Then he thought of Jack. It was so different with Jack. He rarely challenged his father’s views or the positions taken by the Party. His acceptance was unambiguous, unshakeable and total. How easy it would be, the senator mused, had the president another 99 just like him.

Upon his return to his office, his Chief-of-staff, Paul McDermott, met him at the door to warn him of an agitated Gene Masden from back home who was waiting to see him. What’s his problem?

He won’t talk to me. He just asked for you, and when I told him you were at a committee meeting. He said he would wait.

The senator went over his mind trying to connect Gene Masden with something he had done recently, or not done, or misrepresented that could have brought him all this way from Midland without even the most cursory advance notice. Of course, Gene Madsen was not one who needed to make appointments. He was chairman and sole owner of one of the biggest oil equipment makers and suppliers in the country if not the world, a good friend and a huge financial supporter. The senator entered the reception area of his office, picked up a folder from one of his other assistants and went into his office.

Gene, it’s great to see you, but what brings you…

Sorry to bust in on you like this, John, but I had to see you.

Gene. I have never seen you this upset. What’s the matter?

My step-son, Larry, you know, Joan’s oldest, got himself drunk the other night and as the result of losing a bet joined the Marines the next day, not quite sober but enough so to sign his name. The dumb son-of-a-bitch has always been a pain-in-the-ass, but this… There’s going to be a war, John, and he could well be in it. I can’t let that happen. Joan is beside herself. She hasn’t stopped bugging me. ‘Pull some strings’, she says. ‘Talk to John. Do whatever it takes, but get Larry out of his commitment.’ I know this is one hell of an imposition, but you’ve got to help me out.

Gene, I’m really sorry, but what do you think I could do?

John, there must be someone you could call. Don’t tell me this sort of thing doesn’t happen!

Gene, if the boy was under the influence…

He’s already tried that and every other argument he could think of, but the Marines say he’s in. What the hell can I do?

Maybe he won’t make it through basic training. They say you really have to want to be a Marine to make it through basic. Does he want to be a Marine?

Hell no. He’s scared shitless! . . . John, I don’t want my boy serving in the Marines. I don’t want him anywhere near that damn country. I want him with me. Who’s going to take over the business when I am too old and befuddled to find my way to the bathroom? He might keep me up nights, but he’s smart, and I need someone to start helping me out at the office. He can’t do that while he’s off over there getting shot at.

Look, Gene, you’re obviously worked up about this, but there’s no guarantee there’s going to be a war, and that he would be in it if there were one. The Marines have got a lot more on their plate than just Iraq. Plus it will be over in a blink of an eye—he might miss the whole thing. When is he expected to be inducted?

I don’t know, in a couple of weeks maybe three, but soon. And soon will mean Iraq—I just know it. John, I am really scared. You’ve got to do something.

What you’re asking me to do, Gene is illegal. You’ve got to know that.

I don’t know that, and frankly, I don’t give a shit. So much of what that bird-brained president of yours has been doing and saying to work us up into getting into this fight has certainly been less than forthright.

What the hell are you saying? I thought you were one of his biggest supporters. You gave buckets to his campaign.

More out of respect for his old man than any special regard for him. If I had had any idea he was going to be stupid enough to pick a fight with that prick in Iraq… I can’t believe this guy. He’s going to get a lot of kids killed for no reason. The whole thing’s a crock.

Wow.

Yeah, Wow.

Staring at his friend in disbelief, the senator said, Well, I still don’t know what I can do. But I’ll think on it and promise, without breaking the law, I’ll try to help.

John, I don’t care what it takes. Larry cannot serve. I know that cowboy’s going to get us into this thing, and I don’t want my boy anywhere near it. I know you will do all you can.

Don’t leave here thinking Larry’s off the hook, Gene.

I know I shouldn’t be asking you this and wouldn’t if this were a real war.

Oh it’ll be real, alright, Gene.

You know what I mean, John.

In an attempt to change the subject, and confident he would decline, the senator invited his old friend to dinner. Masden quickly begged off saying, Nothing would be nicer, but I can’t. I’ve got to get back to see my little girl in her first school play. I was on my way back from New York and only swung by this way because Joan insisted. But I hope we can do that soon. I’ll bring Joan along next time. Anytime you want to fly down to Midland to see us let me know. I’ll have the plane sent up to get you.

Smiling the senator said, Of course, I can’t do that anymore, Gene, but I hope the offer also means that you are going to support me in the next election.

Shaking his hand good-bye Gene Masden replied, I guess that sort of depends what you can do about my little problem… John. Regards to Louise and the children.

I will tell Louise you came all this way but wouldn’t stay to dinner. She’ll be plenty disappointed.

Don’t put it that way. I very much miss not seeing Louise, but I have to see my little Sophie in her play or I am a dead man.

Just kidding, Gene.

With Gene still in earshot the senator called out to his chief-of-staff, Paul, let’s see what we can do about Mr. Masden’s problem, and call Louise for me. If she’s not home, leave a message to have her return the call. It’s important.

Then, speaking softly so he could not be heard by the departing constituent his chief-of-staff replied, But sir, there is really nothing you can do that wouldn’t boomerang.

I know, Paul, but maybe there’s something in the regs Larry could use to wiggle out of… I don’t know—do what you can.

I will, sir, but I can tell you now; the best thing he can do for himself is try to get into something like electronics, or support operations, working on aircraft, something that will keep him out of the infantry. He can always D.O.R., that’s Drop on Request for you non-service types, once he gets there. Though that wouldn’t look very good on his record, I doubt it would make much a difference to him. And you can count on this getting out if you’re successful… your biggest contributor getting special favors. Think how good that would look splashed across tomorrow’s front page!

I get your point, Paul. And you’re right. The boy’s plenty smart to qualify for some technical job that’ll keep him well behind the lines. Hell, it’ll be good for him. He’ll probably lose 30 pounds going through basic… Larry as a Marine. Now that’s an oxymoron.

What’s this? the senator asked as Jean, one of his AA’s handed him an unopened letter.

Why didn’t you open it?

With a very suggestive smile, Jean said she wanted to honor the letter’s request for confidentiality. . . . and it’s—perfumed.

Really… what with, anthrax?

The senator opened the letter.

Dear Senator McCulloch:

Should my letter ever reach you, I want to thank you in advance for taking the time to read it.

Ever since learning of the passage of your Authorization I have brooded over the hazards of granting this inexperienced president the unfettered right to go to war. Here’s a man who has had absolutely no experience in foreign policy, has never served in the military (nobody down here thinks his so-called National Guard service amounted to much), and may not have ever been out of the country. Yet, because of 9/11, he’s acting as though we are facing the greatest risk to our national survival since the end of the Second World War with this sudden and overblown issue of the alleged Iraqi possession of weapons of mass destruction. What’s any of this got to do with 9/11? And why hasn’t it occurred to any of you in the Senate that if we didn’t go to war with the Soviet Union over the same concerns, why are we planning to do so against an enfeebled Iraq whose weapons, if they have any, could not be, in anyone’s estimation, more than a vanishing fraction of the number the Soviets had? And why the implication the Iraqis had something to do with 9/11 in the first place? Of course, when asked, the president denies any such connection, but in the same breath will then claim that the United States has a right to avenge the 3000 lives lost that day. What’s the average citizen to conclude from that deliberate coupling? That Iraq was not involved?

Setting aside the foolishness of even considering a war against Iraq, I ask you, Senator, has it not occurred to you that perhaps the president’s misleading insinuations are nothing more than an attempt to set up Iraq as a stand-in for those we can’t seem to find who actually were responsible for the killings that occurred that day? What other explanation can there be, after eleven years of sanctions, over-flights, inspections etc., for Iraq’s abrupt elevation to a threat requiring our armed intervention? How can this be fair to Iraq or to those Iraqis who must lose their lives when the bombing starts? How can this war make any sense if 1) Iraq had nothing to do with 9/11 and 2) it’s proved they have no weapons of mass destruction? As there’s been much to corroborate the first statement, why not let the prospective inspections validate or refute the second before we cover ourselves in ignominy by starting what would be, without either provocation, an illegal act of aggression? Mark my words, sir; we will be making a big and very costly mistake if this counterfeit conflict is allowed to grow into a full scale war. This cannot and will not have a happy ending if it does.

In the spirit of full disclosure, sir, I am a Democrat and have been since I first learned to tie my shoes. I did not vote for you nor have I ever voted for a Republican.

Sincerely yours,

Rebecca Watson"

The senator closed the letter then reopened it and read it again. For a fleeting moment he suspected Rebecca Watson was his daughter up to a little mischief. But upon checking, there was a real Rebecca Watson, a retired school teacher living in Austin. She was probably worth listening to and most likely not the only one of his constituents to share the same opinion. He called Jean to draft a standard note of appreciation to which he would add a personal post script. It wasn’t often he heard from a Democrat, and though unlikely this one would ever vote for him, still a personal response couldn’t hurt.

Discouraged by the mess he had allowed to accumulate on his desk and unwilling to do anything about it, the senator decided he’d had enough for the day and left for home. On the way out he bumped into Senator Mason, an important Democrat who had provided critical help to the senator garnering votes from his party for the Authorization.

I’m glad I ran into you, John.

What’s up, Charlie?

You know I support the war, John. I mean the Authorization.

Yes, and I think I know how much that has cost…

John, I am worried, really worried about the number of troops our defense chief has now estimated he’s going to need for Iraq. Have we all forgotten when his father took on Saddam the last time he had a force of over half a million men and that was to kick the SOB out of little Kuwait. Now we’re talking about invading a country how many times the size with a force less than half, hell, almost two thirds smaller than what was used then. I support the war, John, but I want to win it!

What’s the problem, Charlie? I’m sure he’s done his homework and those ex generals who are saying he’s low-balling are just too conservative. They’re re-fighting their past wars. That’s why they’ve all been retired.

I don’t agree. The man sounds like a newly minted MBA trying to impress. It’s just too slick. John. If we are going in there on a hypothetical, we’d better be prepared for the worst. You can bet if Saddam’s got those WMD, he’s gonna use ’em this time. Have we got the horsepower to counter such a threat? If we’re wrong and we get bogged down in a protracted conflict, we’re all going to be in deep shit. It’s going to cost us a fortune, none of us are going to get re-elected, and a lot of lives will be lost because we didn’t err on the side of a lot more troops. One Viet Nam a millennium is enough for any country, John. Don’t forget everyone at the time thought McNamara was right too… . And despite what we’ve all been told and want to believe, it’s far from an absolute certainty that the man’s got the weapons we’re going in to get.

Look, Charlie, if we are wrong about the WMD, we will have at least eliminated this menace… .

You’re assuming nothing is going to go wrong.

Yeah… I am, Charlie. We’re going to take out that country in three weeks max, and when it is all over we will have made a lot of Iraqis happy, gone a long way to stabilize the Middle East and done our part to keep down the price of gas at the pump… . That monstrosity should stop wasting our time or start negotiating with his Maker.

Let’s not forget, John… he used to be our Monstrosity.

Timing is everything, Charlie.

I still don’t like it… . What the hell, maybe you’re right. Say, Gail is away for a while. Do you want to do dinner?

Can’t tonight. But I’ll tell Louise, and we’ll have you over. Don’t worry so much. You’re gonna start sounding like the rest of your crowd. Your president is right on this one, Charlie.

For all those troops he’s sending over there to prove him right, he’d better be right, John.

Thanks a lot for that, Charlie. That’s just the sort of solid support we need, the senator said to himself as he turned without replying and continued down the corridor.

2

Louise was already home and deep into fixing dinner for the two of them when the senator arrived. She gave him a cursory kiss and went back to her preparations.

What’s all this about? I returned your call, but you were too busy to answer… Before you ask, Patricia got the night off to see some friends from Ecuador.

I’d called to tell you that Gene Masden was in town. He’s got a big problem.

And what could possibly be troubling the richest man in Texas?

His son, on some kind of bet that only a drunken teenager can make, has signed up to be a Marine.

You’re kidding. That lay-about?

The same, and Gene wants me to do something about it. That was his only reason for stopping by.

What does he think you can do?

I told him—nothing. But then I was thinking maybe the veep could wave a magic wand… . Gene has made substantial contributions to the Party, and who knows all the players at the Pentagon better than… .

John… you’re not suggesting…

How well do you know Nicole?

Oh, no! Out of the question, John! I wouldn’t go near Nicole for anything as sleazy as that… Besides what makes you think she, of all people, would want to work on her husband for something as un-American as this? If I can believe what I’ve been told, she is more of a conservative than he is. She would hardly be pleased to learn that one of the sponsors of the resolution, hell, The Sponsor, is soliciting her husband to get the son of one of his very rich constituents—and big-time contributor—out of a military operation he’s promoted. You approach her with this, and she’d have you skewered in the press before you could begin your apologies for asking.

You’re right. Forget it.

I’m really surprised, John. This is not at all like you. Masden can take care of his own problems. If you ever expect to run for president, you can’t have even a hint of this kind of…

Okay, Louise. I got it. The boy just made a mistake and…

He made a big mistake, and mistakes have consequences. He’s a smart guy, I’m sure he’ll find an angle that will keep him far from the front lines.

Take it as a momentary lapse. But I do sympathize with Gene. Larry’s his only son.

Well, I don’t. It’s not like it’s the first time that boy has done something stupid and gotten away with it. He should’ve known better.

Changing the subject, whatever you’ve got in the oven smells really good.

It can’t be that good if you haven’t already guessed… It’s lasagna.

Mmmm. How soon?

Another couple of minutes. Don’t go far,

The senator leaned against the granite countertop opposite the stove and watched.

Just the image of Larry in sweats running an obstacle course, or whatever they do during training, makes me laugh. He must have been very drunk, John.

Of all his stunts, this one has Gene really worried.

Well, I think Gene should make him serve. It’ll do him good. And why should Gene not have to worry along with all the other fathers sending their sons and daughters off to that god-forsaken country?

The kitchen phone rang as Louise was just about to pull the lasagna out of the oven. Will you get that?

Yeah.

Hi Pop. Can you get mother and put the phone on ‘speaker’? I’ve got an announcement to make.

What’s on your mind, Jack?

Just get mother to the phone… please.

Okay, okay just a second. Louise! It’s Jack. He wants to make an ‘announcement’.

Can’t that wait? I don’t want the lasagna to get cold. Tell him we’ll call him back after dinner.

It’s obviously pretty important. Just keep it on low.

It’ll dry out.

Please?

Alright. I’ll be right with you, she replied as she pushed the baking dish back into the oven.

Mom, Dad better sit down.

We’re seated. Now what’s this ‘announcement’?

Ready?

Jack, we’re all ears.

I’ve just asked Catherine Crawford, the most beautiful woman in the world, and who happens to be sitting next to me, to marry me, and she has said yes. Yes!

Jack! . . . You’re engaged? . . . I didn’t even know you were dating anyone. With apologies to Catherine, I do not believe I have met her yet.

Yes, you have John, his wife volunteered. Last summer at the lake. Catherine was with Jack and some of his other friends for a weekend.

Oh, yes. Right. I do remember now. My apologies, Catherine. I didn’t recognize the name.

The senator looked at his wife. Complete consternation. First, his son had not yet finished college; had no visible means of support, and is just too damn young to settle down.

Catherine, we welcome the good news. I hope you’re as happy as Jack seems to be… Jack is a dear; I am going to hate to part with him. Have you told your parents? Louise asked.

It’s only my father. My mother died several years ago. But no, you are the first to know.

I’m so sorry… about your mother. We would very much like to invite you and your father over to meet us whenever you can fit it in. When’s the wedding planned? I was hoping Jack could at least first finish school.

Of course, Mrs. McCulloch. There is no rush to get married. No date has been set. Jack is my soul mate, and I am his and, I want everybody to know it.

Catherine, it will be a pleasure to see you again. I look forward to it and meeting your father. You will call us with some dates? In the meantime congratulations to the two of you, and now, if you don’t mind, we will excuse ourselves to think through what we’ve just heard. Jack, we should talk when you get home.

Sure, Pop. Well, goodnight.

Good night and don’t forget some dates, Catherine.