A New Brand of Patriotism: Getting America Back

By Paul Ehrlich

Five former Air Force combat pilots are meeting every week to discus what they can do about the downward trend of America in the last twenty or thirty years. They feel that this is no longer the country that they loved and fought for. The American Dream," says one, has turned into a nightmare for millions of Americans who are now forced to live on the street in poverty, their homes and family possessions gone and no jobs to be had. Only the very rich are doing very well while paying tiny amounts of taxes and doing little to help the poor. These five flyers have decided to do something about this situation, something drastic.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trafford Publishing
• Release date: Sep 12, 2012
• ISBN: 9781466950085

Book preview

A NEW BRAND OF

PATRIOTISM

GETTING AMERICA BACK

the demise of the tooth fairy

Paul Ehrlich

(aka Earle Porlock)

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© Copyright 2012 Paul Ehrlich.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written prior permission of the author.

ISBN: 978-1-4669-5007-8 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4669-5009-2 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4669-5008-5 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2012913655

Trafford rev. 02/23/2013

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CONTENTS

I

II

III

IV

V

VI

VII

VIII

IX

X

XI

XII

XIII

XIV

XV

XVI

XVII

XVIII

XIX

XX

XXI

XXII

XXIII

XIV

XXV

XXVI

Epilogue

I

Vera Huffingston slapped her swatter casually at a fly while she decided what to say next. Her narrow face, framed by soft dark brown hair and accented by piercing blue eyes, unusually pretty for a woman in her mid forties, showed that she was not used to such indecision. She was on her cell phone, and at the receiving end was Steve, her beloved personal trainer. She knew that life without Steve would be unbearable, so she must put the rejection in a way that he would take as a compliment.

Aaw, Stevey, my noble Trojan horse. It’ll be harder for me than for you—much harder. But Jim says just me and the kids, and Jimbo pays the bills, so that’s the way it’s gotta be. And it’s just a week. Anyway, I bet you have at least a dozen love-starved beauties drooling for your next phone call. Will I see you tomorrow? We gotta say goodbye the right way. Right?

Ten-thirty tomorrow. Be ready.

Can I at least wear a shirt?

Vera played the role of the Trophy-wife very well, and enjoyed all its perks. A great big good looking personal trainer, three maids at her beck and call, a lovely three-story penthouse condo on the upscale East Side overlooking the river in New York with all the latest gadgets tastefully displayed. And another gorgeous mansion in Florida on Key Largo, an obscenely rich husband that didn’t interfere much with her wishes and likes and dislikes and sometimes strange activities, and two children who she rarely saw, and were well trained never to argue with her, even though they were both terrible spoiled brats who hated each other as well as their parents. The girl, Melanie, 12 years old, had ideas of becoming a rock star and had adopted the name Zsa Zsa, thinking of herself as becoming a second Lady Gaga, whom she adored. The 10-year-old boy, named James the Third, after his father and grandfather, went among his school friends under the name of Prince Stromboli Mifkin, and if anyone giggled at the name he would be severely thrashed by Prince Stromboli, who was older and bigger than the rest of his classmates.

The week away was to be a family vacation, the first and only one they had ever had since a week at the Grand Canyon five years before. Jim Huffingston was beginning to realize that he would soon retire, or be asked to retire, now that the ominous age—Seventy-five—was approaching. He still felt strong and slightly boyish, but he knew he no longer looked the part or acted the part. He had begun shaving only once or twice each week, and liked the grizzly, pepper and salt quality it gave. A rugged appearance, which he felt was very appropriate. It was time to gracefully step back and allow a new CEO to take the helm.

The idea of a family vacation came to Jim as an inspiration. One of the partners had just spent a week at the Grand Canyon with his family, and came back with a nice suntan and pictures. Jimbo had a better idea—a week in the Mexican Copper Canyon he had read about, supposed to be much bigger and much wilder than the American Grand Canyon. The pictures looked spectacular.

One of Jim’s dreams was to get back the wonderful feeling of togetherness that he remembered from his earlier days, with Vera and the children, before his great successes in the financial market had changed his life to what it was like now. He felt that the children were still within his reach, and so was Vera. The vacation would bring back the dream. His family would be together again. Life would be fun.

Jim called for a family conference—an unheard of event—for the next evening. The family—parents and children—would form a circle, and in back, listening and if required, keeping order, would be the household servants—the kitchen staff, the cleaning staff who cleaned the rooms every day, and the carpets, and changed the linen every day, Vera’s three maids, the two chauffeurs and the auto maintenance men, the two airline pilots who were both needed, one to relieve the other on long trips, the two stewardesses who helped to settle the passengers on trips, the team of gardeners who weeded and cut the lawns and tenderly tended the fruit trees and the flowers and took care of the snow during the winter, and used to build igloos and play games with the children when they were small. All were summoned to hear Jim’s vacation plans.

Jim stood and faced the family, knowing that his voice would easily carry to all the assembled servants. There was silence for a few minutes, while he made up his mind which of his many personalities he should be this time—the loving father, or the stern no nonsense leader of men, or the mystical story teller, or the many other roles he was used to playing. He decided on the story teller—get them interested in the activity he was about to try to sell them.

We’ll be flying to Mexico in two days. We will land in a city named Chihuahua. Can you all say that name, ‘Chihuahua?’

All: Cheese-wawawa.

Very good, said Jim, that’s the city where those cute little dogs come from.

Cute little dogs! Blecch!! whispered Melanie. Jim heard it, but decided to disregard it. He continued as if he hadn’t heard. From Chihuahua, we take a nice train ride to a place called the Copper Canyon.

Oh, not the Copper Canyon, shouted young Stromboli. Peter Strogel went there with his family last year and he said it was the most boring week he ever spent.

Well, said Jim, I’m sorry for Peter and the Strogel family. The Copper Canyon is one of the most interesting and beautiful places in the world. It’s bigger and more exotic than the American Grand Canyon. I’ve sent for some slides and movie shots and we’ll see them tonight.

Can’t we just go to see the Grand Canyon again, rent some mules like we did that other time, then shoot the rapids? That was fun, sort of. How many years ago was that?

That was four years ago, maybe five. I didn’t go with you then—too busy making money. I’ll be going with you this time. We’ll have great fun. You’ll see.

Yeah, said Melanie, great fun. She rolled her eyes up. Couldn’t we go to Hollywood instead? See all the homes of the great stars?

None of their homes are as nice as this one, said Jim.

Yeah, but look who lives in this one, she said.

Jim was keeping his cool, but it was taking an effort. He was realizing that he didn’t know these kids at all, and didn’t especially like them, and didn’t think they liked him much. He looked at Vera and she looked away. What to do? he thought. Should we have a family pow-wow—everybody speak their grievances and suggest their suggestions? Would that work? Or would it make everything worse? Let’s all go out to Starbucks, OK? he said. Cake and drinks on me.

What kind of drinks can you get at Starbucks? asked both kids together.

Guess, said Vera. I’m going to have a Latté Framboise.

What the heck is that? asked Jim Junior.

Sounds good, whatever it is, said Melanie. I think I’ll have one.

Me, too, said Jim Junior.

I’ll make it four, said Jim Senior. Anyone want some cake?

So they sat down at a nice table with four lattés and four slices of lemon cake, and looked at each other for the first time in a very long time, and nobody said anything but after a while they were all smiling. Melanie said later that she didn’t know why she was smiling, and neither did anyone else.

Since they all got back to the house in a good mood, Jim Sr. decided to hold off with the slides and movies of the train ride and the canyon. At dinner that evening, he turned into Jim the Mystical Story-teller and wowed his audience with some of his adventures when he was young. After each yarn, Jim Jr. would ask, Is that true? or Did that really happen? and Jim Senior would just smile or say Of course. After young Jim Senior won the battle for the poor forlorn Hottentots, he was able to swim the length of the lagoon and kill the killer shark that was threatening to swim onto the beach to eat the fear-crazed native mothers and nursemaids, even though his left arm had been nearly bitten off by the shark’s brother—or was it sister?—he could never tell them apart.

I remember that, dear, said Vera, getting into the spirit of the occasion, I was one of the nursemaids on the beach, and I was too young to learn how to swim, but I watched you, and tried it when no one was looking, and that’s why I always swim mostly with one arm, because that’s how you were swimming. Boy, did I have a big crush on you.

What’s a crush? asked Jim Junior.

Oh, that’s when you think somebody is so wonderful that you think you can’t live without him, said Vera, making goo-goo eyes at Jim Sr. while everybody laughed so much they nearly lost their dinner.

Melanie, said Jim Junior when they all had recovered, did you ever have a crush on one of the boys?

None of your business, Junior, said Melanie much too quickly, and surprised everyone by blushing furiously, and then looking down at her dessert plate so she wouldn’t have to meet anyone’s eyes. Junior took a breath and got ready to say something but Jim Senior grabbed his hand and then made a shushing motion and Junior understood and merely exhaled.

Later, after all were asleep, two men met silently in the breakfast nook. Both were wearing Airline Captain uniforms.

Well, what do you think, Bill? whispered the older man.

I don’t know what to think, Hank. I was ready to turn them in, and now they suddenly appear to be human, maybe even worth while.

That’s what I see too, said Hank. I think we’ll have to put it on hold. We’ll have to wait. I’ll send in the report.

Very strange, said Bill. We were so close. The two saluted and disappeared.

In an office on the 53rd floor of the Empire State Building five men were seated around a table eating Danish pastry with their coffee. They were mostly in their late forties or early fifties. They were all scanning copies of a report that had just arrived by fax.

Well, It looks like we can forget Huffingston, said Arnie, a huge muscular man who had been a linebacker for the Baltimore Colts. Both Bill and Hank report negative. Too bad.

What do you mean, ‘too bad?’ said Carlo. Are you sorry that he and his wife aren’t disgusting slobs who need the punishment? Really, Arnie, sometimes I think we should drop you off at Remedia yourself. Get to know what some people are like.

Oh, I know what some people are like, said Arnie. I got to know them pretty well when I spent those three weeks with the homeless guys. That guy Huffingston was one of the worst, parading in front of us with his gold and his fancy watch and his sexy wife and his bratty kids. He did his best to kick us all out on the street so he could make some big money tearing the place down and building a place all his rich buddies would buy into. As if he didn’t have enough dough already—sixteen billion, I heard.

Well, for now all we can do with Huffingston is to keep an eye on him and his family. If he steps out of line again we’ll nail him. Who else do we have on the list who’s ripe?

Jeremy Jasper, a tall former Army Lieutenant Colonel and War hero, known in the group as JJ, looked around, and saw everyone looking at him, so he decided to once again accept the role of main speaker. We have two politicians high on the list, he said. One is a US Senator, the other is a State Senator from Idaho. Their fervent prayer—both of them—is to get rid of all the entitlements, especially the Government-sponsored health programs.

How do they expect people with families to pay the mounting medical bills? asked Montgomery Holcomb, a good-looking, muscular 40-ish former Marine, known as Monte. Monte had recently received two adorable twins from his young wife.

They don’t, said JJ. That’s part of their sneaky plan. They want everybody except their buddies to be in debt and homeless. Their ranting is so strange, so hypocritical—they themselves have great health programs, paid for the by the government—in other words, by us, the taxpayers, but they don’t want the taxpayers to have any such programs—they’d rather see all the taxpayers to get sick and die, and then their families would join the mob of the homeless, except, of course, their buddies—who hardly pay any tax at all.

If they were to get that to happen, who would pay for their own medical programs? asked Carlo, a short chunky man with a potato nose.

They don’t think that far ahead, said JJ. It’s like their Immigrant policy—they don’t want immigrants but they rely on them to pick vegetables and fruit and do all the grunt work. Their big hope is to reduce taxes and reduce the American debt. If they get the first, who will pay for the second?

They seem to forget that when Bill Clinton left office there was no national debt, there was a surplus, said Monte. Clinton’s Vice President, Al Gore, was going to invest $20 billion into a ‘Manhattan Project’ that would find a substitute for gasoline to power autos and machinery and bring a stop to the American dependence on oil and coal. But these same politicians and their cronies finagled and weaseled things around so that a weak and incompetent man was elected instead of Vice President Gore, even though Gore won the vote. You all know the history that brought our country to where it’s at now.

And in the next election, said Henry Stevenson, a very thin man with a hatchet face, a Korean War veteran known as Steve, "men were paid to lie under oath to discredit the competent candidate so that the weak incompetent was again elected, and the result of their sick maneuvering is that America depends on oil more than ever and only the very rich have had their taxes reduced, and there is a huge, unheard-of national debt. All of this was accomplished during the last ten years, and it accomplished a staggering financial collapse that is being called a ‘Recession’ but is really a ‘Depression,’ with terrible unemployment and homelessness. We all know this. We’ve all said it before.

The great America that we grew up to love doesn’t exist any more, destroyed by terrible scoundrels in the last ten years. I didn’t mean to make a speech, and I apologize—you all know all of this this already, and you know I hardly ever say much, but this is the reason we must let greedy financiers like Huffingston alone with their billions while we go after the real creeps. How’s that coming along?

Relax, Steve, said JJ. It’s coming along.

Four days later the newspapers across the nation carried big, bold headlines that read Senator Matt MacDoughal disappears—feared kidnapped. Three days later similar headlines appeared—State Senator John Bangor of Idaho disappears—feared kidnapped. The similarity of the disappearances sent a cold chill through parts of the country, and people were warned to lock their doors and not go out at night. But in some other parts of the country there were smiles and small quiet celebrations.

The journalist beloved on all sides, Horace van Holden, gave the facts succinctly. Sen. MacDoughal had flown down to Cancun, in Mexico, in his Gulfstream 81, and registered with his party, including his wife and secretary and two airline hostesses, for a large suite of rooms at the Hilton Hotel. In the morning the Senator was not to be found, and no one could wake the airline hostesses, who seemed to have been drugged. That seemed to be the total of all information available. The two pilots, who had been booked at the Sheraton, knew nothing of the matter. Horace van Holden promised that he would keep in touch and relay any news as soon as it was discovered. Meanwhile, he said, everyone should remain calm, and perhaps everyone should have a cup of Bovril, or sweet green tea, to steady their nerves.

As the Christmas vacation time approached there was a quick rush among congressmen and congresswomen to cancel vacations and trips to South America, but during the month of December three members of congress disappeared during their trips to Europe, and two others who had gone—one to California and one to Alaska—also vanished. No place seemed safe. The Gulfstreams and other jet planes remained on the ground. And it had been noticed that only members of one political party had disappeared. Where they had gone, and why they had gone, was the big mystery on everyone’s lips. Were they still alive and just living somewhere else? And would they return when they finished whatever they were up to?

In January, after the holidays were over, there began a new series of disappearances, mostly among the very rich. Heads of corporations, CEOs, bank presidents, movie Moguls—no one seemed immune. They disappeared at the rate of two to three each week.

When the very rich began to disappear Jim Huffingston felt a twinge of concern. These were his people, or had been, and he started to wonder if he should be a little worried. Men he knew who were not quite as wealthy as him were disappearing, and he wondered if he might be next. Being a very bright man he had noticed right away that all the disappeared men were also from the political party he belonged to. His Gulfstream was still sitting on the tarmac—it hadn’t been used since the flight back from Chihuahua, and his two pilots still showed up every day. He didn’t know, of course, how close he had come to becoming one of the disappeared, but he thought he might like to have a chat with his two pilots—find out what they thought of the situation.

Jim Senior was there when his pilots checked in, exactly 9:00 AM as usual, and surprised them by inviting them in to the breakfast nook.

Had your breakfast yet? he asked Hank.

Yes, thanks, said Hank.

Thought we might have a little chat, Hank. We never talk, do we, except when I tell you where I want to go, and when. That’s sort of silly, isn’t it?

No, sir, said Hank.

Well, I think it is. We’re all Americans, aren’t we? America doesn’t have any class distinctions, does it? And while you’re at it, leave out the ‘yes, sir’s.’ You left the service years ago.

Yes, sir.

What I’d like to talk about, first, is my beautiful Gulfstream plane. There it is on the tarmac, wasting away. Completely useless to me these days. You should probably take it up for a spin every so often, and have the flight attendants, or whoever’s job it is, dust it off and clean anything that needs it. Make sure nothing in the kitchen is rusting away. Do either of you have any idea how much it’s worth, how much I could sell it for?

A lot, said Bill.

No idea said Hank. How much did it cost you?

I don’t remember, said Jim. Several million, but I don’t remember how many.

Was it new?

Yes. Brand new.

How long ago? How old is it now?

Five or six years ago. Doesn’t matter. Those things were built to last. How about you two? Like to own a nice plane, go into business?

You’re kidding, right? asked Bill.

No, I’m not, said Jim. I don’t care if I make any money on it. I’ve had plenty of good use of it, many good times. Time to turn it in. Right now I’m just paying parking fees and maintenance, people like you and the girls to take care of it, and insurance on it.

I couldn’t possibly afford it, said Hank.

Neither could I, said Bill.

Sure you could. I’ll set you guys up, keep you afloat till you’re breaking even, then it’ll be all yours. What do you think?

It’s a very generous offer. I need to think about it, said Hank.

Same here, said Bill.

More coffee? asked Jim. Something else I’d like to talk to you about, get your opinion. Cream? Sugar? How about a cheese Danish? OK, here I go. You must have noticed how quickly this country is changing, right? It’s in all the papers, it’s what everybody is talking about. All the politicians and all the rich people suddenly disappearing. It’s happening while we speak. Tomorrow when we get the papers there’ll be two or three more suddenly gone. What does it mean? How does it happen? Why is it happening? Everybody has some opinion about it. I have mine, but it doesn’t really explain it. So I want to ask you, both of you—what does it mean? Why is it happening, and how is it happening? What is your opinion about it?

Vera had quietly entered the room and was listening. Nobody has a worthwhile opinion about it, she said. No real explanations. I’d like to listen.

Coffee, Vera? Cheese Danish? said Jim. How about you, Hank? You want to start us off? What’s your idea?

Well, Mr. Huffingston, sir—

Oh, can that, Hank. You were a war hero. You were patriotic to the extreme. That war is over. You can talk to me man to man, even if I have more money than you. What is your idea about this?

Well, sir—oops, I guess old habits are hard to break—I’ve talked about this with some friends, and I do have some ideas that we came up with. We think the crucial point is that all the politicians so far, and all the rich people, were Republicans. I would guess that you yourself are a Republican. Is that correct?

Yes, I am. And proud of it. I would not be a Democrat no matter what I was offered. They are wimps. They are despicable. But what does that have to do with the disappearing people? Are you not a Republican?

"No. I am neither a Democrat nor a Republican. But let me ask you a question, Mr. Huffingston, sir. You call yourself a Christian, right? But are you? A follower of Jesus? Do you remember that Jesus was one of the most compassionate people that ever lived? Everything he did in his adult life was to help the poor, to help the downtrodden, the homeless, to help those who needed help. Would Jesus have been a Democrat or a Republican? Are you a Christian?"

There was a long silence. Finally Jim broke the spell. We’ll have to leave it there for now, he said. My offer still stands.

Bill and Hank gave each other an interesting look as they stood up to go. Boy, that was close, said Bill.

Couldn’t help it, said Hank.

As Jim and Vera went out of the room they exchanged an equally interesting look.

Well, Jim, my husband, said Vera, Are you?

Am I what? asked Jim

You know what, she said. What he asked.

I don’t know. Let’s talk about it later.

Do you think they know what’s behind the disappearances? Or who’s behind them? she asked

I think maybe.

So do I.

After dinner and the kids retired to do their homework Jim and Vera stayed at the table and talked.

Here’s what I think, said Vera. I think we’re fantastically lucky. If it’s a big plot and Bill and Hank are in on it, how come we haven’t been disappeared already? We’d be prime candidates—me with my lazy life and my personal trainer and different maids and helpers, and you with all your billions and putting people out on the street to make even more money. No wonder the kids don’t like us that much.

But all that’s changed since Copper Canyon, he said. I don’t know how it happened, but we’re a family again. And it’s fun. When I gave that beggar in Chihuahua that money and slapped him on the back, I felt good about it. I don’t know how or why, but I liked being able to help him. Maybe Bill or Hank saw that.

Do you think you’re turning into a real Christian after all these years?

Hey, he said. Don’t push it. A little at a time.

II

On the island of Remedia four natives gathered to welcome a Gulfstream 81 that was landing on a huge field of grass. The door opened and four people went out onto the staircase that had been wheeled up to the door. The door closed and the jet plane quickly gathered speed and took off. The father of the new family looked around and said, Hey, what is this?

The leader of the four natives took a step forward, bowed with a big smile, opened his arms and said, Welcome to Remedia, Mister Goldbrash. We were expecting you. You have to leave all your cell phones and iPods and any other electronic devices that you are carrying. Put them all in this basket. It is for your safety. They will automatically explode if you try to bring them. They will all be returned to you when you leave. After all the electronic devices were collected the four natives started walking toward some low-built houses on the side of the grassy field, some distance away. The father looked around again and repeated, with a small change, Hey, what the hell is this? There was no answer. Nobody spoke. Nobody was there.

Dad, said the little boy, age about seven, I’m thirsty. Can I have a Coke?

Me too, said the little boy’s sister, about nine years old. Can I have some vanilla ice cream with mine?

WHERE THE HELL AM I GOING TO GET A COKE AND ICE CREAM? shouted the man.

Now, dear, said the woman, You know you mustn’t talk that way to the children. They’ll pick up bad manners.

They’ll probably pick up more than that before we get out of here. Do you realize where we probably are?

No. Where are we? We’re supposed to be on our way to Acapulco. What are we doing here? The father arranged the two children on one of the steps of the staircase that had been wheeled up. The adults stood on a step two steps lower.

I think I’ve figured out what’s going on, said the man. I think this has something to do with all the people who have disappeared. We’ve been talking about it for more than a month. Everybody’s been talking and wondering if they’d been kidnapped and taken somewhere. Well, I think that’s what’s happened to us. I think we’ve been kidnapped and brought to this place. So far nobody’s ever come back. We’ve got to find a way to get back, otherwise we’ll stay here till we die, with no Cokes and no ice cream.

The woman and the two children were crying loudly. The man walked away a small distance and waited for the crying to stop. When it didn’t stop he walked back to the staircase and climbed up to the children’s level. He picked up the boy and told him OK. You’ve had your cry. Now you can do one of two things. You can stop crying and go with me to those little buildings over there, on the side of the grass, or you can start howling again and I’ll leave you here. He picked up the little girl and told her the same thing. The children stopped crying as if by magic. Then he tried it on his wife, but she only began to howl and shriek louder. Too bad, he said, but I have to be a man of my word. So he handed the children down to the grass and started walking with them toward the low buildings on the side.

After a while he heard her calling, Wait for me, wait for me, but he kept going and she hurried to catch up. You’re really nasty, aren’t you, she said, but he smiled and kept on walking.

When they got to the low buildings they were very disappointed. It was hard to call them buildings, they were so primitive. There were three of them, the walls made of tree branches, the roofs just leafy branches with extra leaves added. The floors were just a mixture of dirt and sand. The first building was empty, but they could hear some sounds from the next one—the sounds of a guitar and singing, and people softly talking and laughing. When the father pulled open the door—just a leafy tree branch—all the sounds stopped and the family saw that there were ten or eleven people in there, mostly sitting on the floor and looking at them. The four that had welcomed them were there, and the leader made a tiny bow but said nothing. Nobody said anything, not even the native children sitting there. The silence was immense.

Finally the father decided to take charge. Hello, he said. We’re the Goldbrash family. We just got here, and we don’t know what to do. Do any of you speak English, besides the man who welcomed us? The immense silence returned.

Well, he said after a while, Is there anyone who can show us where we’re supposed to go, where we should sleep, where we should eat, what we should eat, where we can get fresh water? There was a deafening silence.

Roddy Goldbrash was beginning to lose his cool. He was getting a little worried. OK, one thing at a time. Where do we eat? No answer. When do we eat? No answer. We have children here. Are you going to just abandon them? No answer.