Groundswell: An American Political Movement

By Jerry Abendroth

No matter the era or the time, politics have captured the heart of Americans from the dawning days of our young nation to the present day with its ever-widening culture gap. Reviewers of history have commented on the acidic political times surrounding the Corrupt Bargain, the Teapot Dome scandal, and the Monica Lewinsky scandal. These scandals have caused increasing apathy in the electorate and an attitude of "nothing will change around here ever." However, and there is always a "however," fresh winds arrive with new persons, new ideas, and a new paradigm for a political change. Groundswell: An American Political Movement documents the arrival of that fresh breeze that the American public embraces with enthusiasm. Samuel Harrison is not a typical political candidate. In fact, he really isn't a political candidate at all, save his extraordinary run for the presidency. The political establishment reacts predictably with first dismissal, then derisiveness, and, finally, mild panic at the entry of Samuel into presidential politics. Even with his political naiveté, Samuel maneuvers the mine-filled waters of the Democrats and the Republicans with relative ease. As readers, we are afforded a front row seat for this narrative on the Harrison presidential train through rough terrain to unexpected outcomes.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Mar 18, 2019
• ISBN: 9781644585290

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Groundswell

An American Political Movement

Jerry Abendroth

ISBN 978-1-64458-528-3 (paperback)

ISBN 978-1-64458-529-0 (digital)

Copyright © 2019 by Jerry Abendroth

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.

Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.

832 Park Avenue

Meadville, PA 16335

www.christianfaithpublishing.com

This book is a work of fiction. Although historical references have been used, they have been formatted into a fiction narrative for readability.

Disclaimer: Newspaper headlines have been included in Groundswell: An American Political Movement as guidelines throughout the book. The headline format works well in the printed version and tablet-sized readers. It is possible that the format might not appear as written on smaller iPhones and Android phones.

Printed in the United States of America

Times

When in the Course of human events, it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another, and to assume among the Powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the Laws of Nature and of Nature’s God entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation. (Opening paragraph, The Declaration of Independence)

But in most cases, they don’t do it. They just trod along to disaster.

In 2016, the Demican won the White House. It was a squeaker, but she eked through!

On closer inspection, it was discovered that the Republicrat actually won. There was much turmoil and wrangling as the time for the inauguration drew near.

Upon even closer examination, the dependent-independents carried the day. Women went one way, minorities another. Elderly people broke from the pack and changed their votes, or did they?

Does it really matter?

YES! IT DOES!

1

Beginnings

The Influenced Informer

Volume XCIX No. 107 Newark, New Jersey Monday, April 16, 1972

We inform on everyone.

APPOLO 16 LAUNCHES

MOON EXPLORATION SOON TO END

The year was 1972. The news carried grim reminders of a seemingly unending war in Southeast Asia and of a president who could not tell the truth. Everyone knows that you could fast-forward to any year and create bad news on which to set your focus. You could also return to the past and fill the headlines with gloom. But behind the scenes is the real-life, pie-filling, good-guy and good-gal stuff that is truly the makeup of a great nation.

A homeless person is freed from a life on the streets by a wonderful caregiver.

A servicewoman or serviceman returns home wounded but alive for her or his family.

People band together to help others after devastating floods, hurricanes, and tornados.

Husbands and brides, filled with love and excitement, celebrate their unions with friends.

Birthday parties are held for the aged, of lives well spent in the service to others.

Birthdays arrive of little ones whose eyes are filled with wonder.

Graduations are filled with the cheers of friends and family members with great zeal.

Anniversaries fill the calendar, reminding us of the goodness of coupled lives.

Births are announced, and waiting families rejoice with loved ones.

When those bundles arrive, it is always a joyful time, a remarkable time to pause and reflect on the wonders of life.

People in this great nation help with the needs of those less fortunate.

It was April 16 of that year when Samuel’s mother struggled mightily, grasping onto life while trying to deliver her first baby. Mary was in so much pain that she almost passed out several times during the excruciating delivery of her new son. Through it all, her loving husband Tom, helpless and distraught, was by her side encouraging her as best he could. Finally, their son arrived, and as Mary clutched him in her arms, she thanked God for her beautiful boy.

Tom Harrison was a proud father, but well beyond that obvious fact, he was a very relieved man. He had almost lost his wife and his new son at the same time. As he left the hospital, he vowed they would not have another child. There would be no more. His mind was set like the huge, immovable steel anvil on his father’s farm. He and Mary wanted more children, but now surely, this would be the end of it. Samuel was here, and if he were to have brothers and sisters, they would have to arrive through the vehicle of adoption. The word only was the only word in his mind.

Tom was relieved and could even force out a bit of a smile, but the déjà vu-ness of all that had just transpired did not escape him as he drove home. He was an only child. When his mom and dad tried to have a second child, his mom managed to carry the child to term, but his brother died shortly after birth, and the complications from that difficult birth seemed to have lasted forever. Those vivid memories were swirling in his mind in the sullied atmosphere of his car, solidifying the decision that was obvious. Mary would not go through this again!

Pain has a way of pressing its imprint on our lives; it numbs us to all else that surrounds us— everything beautiful and wonderful. That was the cloud overshadowing Tom right now, but then his mind snapped to attention! What am I thinking and pondering, he said aloud in the car. This is a wonderful, amazing day! I have a brand-new son. My wife is resting, and it is celebration time! He laughed out loud, filling his mind with those wonderful wiggling endorphins, to war against the pain produced by his body in response to the events of the past few hours.

Japan Ringing Voice

No. 15, 229 The Sixteenth Year of Showa Wednesday, December 8, 1941

Tokyo, Japan

We invented propaganda.

Japan Attacks Hawaii, Singapore, Wake, Guam

US Battleships Sunk

Eerily, the same scene had played out years earlier in 1941. Samuel’s father had paced in a waiting room following the old time-honored birthing method protocol. What is taking so long? What is wrong? He pondered those questions and more as he awaited arrival of the doctor to announce to him that his son or daughter had arrived. When that doctor-delivered message did come, some thirty years ago, he was as relieved as his son Tom was now. But the times were much different during the second of the Great Wars. Grandpa Dan, or Daddy Dan, as he was known then, was being readied to ship off to war. After the birth of his son, he was given a few more months to be with his wife, but then was whisked away to basic training. He would not see his son again for three long years. After that length of time, Dan and his wife Sarah had forgotten (or at least the memory had greatly faded) the difficulty Sarah had had during Tom’s delivery. They began building their family again as was so appropriate in the forties and fifties. These were the baby boomer days; this is what was expected of you. The couple was so happy when they learned that they would be the proud parents of a brother or sister for Tom. But that was not to be. Sarah passed out in labor several times, and when the baby finally came, he was blue and lifeless; he had passed away during the birthing process, and his mother, Sarah, was greatly hurt and sick. It took months for her to recover, and ladies from the church came every day to assist her as her frail body recovered slowly. Tom was just four years old at that time, but he remembered seeing her through saddened eyes, witnessing how sickly she was at family and church events that the family attended together. Sometimes just Grandpa Dan would take Tom to attend the events alone, leaving her to rest. Other times she would come, but even when she did accompany her husband and son, most often, she would rest in a chair by herself much of the time.

Over the years, Tom thought his mother improved, but he really did not know what his father, Dan, knew. Ruth was living on borrowed time, and her symptoms worsened through the passage of time. But now Samuel, their precious grandson, was here. She and Dan had waited for this day for so many years, and now it had finally arrived. Samuel’s birth ignited a blue flame inside of them that had gone dim for some time. His face and hands and toes reminded them of Tom’s arrival so many years ago. There was a wonderment in their eyes, which was undimmed by the ravages of gravity on their bodies. The day was like an awakening for both of them. It seemed as if they could see better; they could smell better; and they could taste like they had during their younger days. This event awakened emotions inside of them that had lessened for so long. Mary had shooed her husband home (he had been there for twenty-four hours without sleep), and he finally agreed to go. Although she was still very much in pain, she sensed the brightness in Dan and Ruth, and she was not going to miss this moment.

Mom, you don’t have to just look, you can pick Samuel up and hold him, she said to Ruth kindly, and, Dad, you take your turn as well. Your grandson needs to touch both of you. Ruth picked up the baby as if he were made completely of glass. Mary took to calling them Mom and Dad after the first occasion they were introduced. She was adopted and had never known her real father and mother. The warmth and acceptance of Dan and Ruth was so inviting to her that she instantly considered them as her family. Even her stepparents, although they were good and decent people, did not feel like Mom and Dad because of what they told her when she moved in with them, You can call us George and Darlene. She was only ten years old at that time, but she remembered that statement repeatedly throughout her life: they were not Mom and Dad; they were George and Darlene. She lived with them for eight years. She was grateful that they took care of her even if the county paid them to do it. But when she graduated, she knew it was time to emerge and move on.

Dan and Ruth were very different that way. Mary asked Tom the question to start the conversation, Tom, I liked meeting your parents, but what do I call them?

Honey, what do you mean? What do you want to call them?

They are so warm I would like to call them Mom and Dad, but it is probably too soon for that.

Maybe, came Tom’s reply, but probably not. I think they would love it.

The rest, as they say, is history. The next time the four of them got together for dinner, Mary asked Ruth what she thought. Ruth’s reply was quick and obvious, That would be wonderful, honey. I know Dan would like that too. It was as if they had been given back the child they had lost long ago. For Mary, it was about connections. She had connected to two wonderful people, and it would not be long for their roots to be intertwined as an incredible grove of Aspen trees.

Unlike Ruth’s difficult birth, Mary recovered quickly. Several weeks after her long ordeal, she was home taking care of Samuel, enjoying every moment she could latch onto. But Mary also had a mission: her son would be connected; he would be successful because she knew what it took to be successful. Mary’s stepbrothers and stepsisters were very accepting of her. Her memories were filled with mostly inclusion, not exclusion. When living at her stepparents’ home, she did her chores, as was expected, and then usually headed to her room for homework. But evenings were spent with her second family.

In that room, Mary Wright had met the philosophers Kant, Pope, Locke, Hobbs, Nietzsche, Aquinas, Sartre, Simone de Beauvoir, Ayn Rand; and she was fascinated by the Greeks. Because she came from a religious stepfamily, she read through the Bible at an early age. Her passion for reading reaped great benefits in so many areas. At school, she was termed one of the untouchables, not because she was aloof or apart from others, but instead because she was part of a group that always read their assignments and was ready to discuss the ideas that were contained therein. Although she liked being alone with history books and English books, she was not a hermit bookworm. She loved discussing ideas in front of the class, and she loved dialogue.

Mary was drawn to one of her best teachers, Mrs. Asvoria. Mrs. Asvoria was an old-school, very traditional woman in the way she conducted her life. Her dress was conservative, but her ideas were not. She encouraged her young students to think and then to think some more. She pushed them to dig deeper, and every so often, as in the case of Mary Wright, that coal-to-diamond pressure yielded fruit. Mary seemed to get it every time that her teacher shared ideas with her. This was high school, so most of the concepts were not part of class work, but it did not matter. Mary had an intense sense of fairness, and it was upon that basis that she judged the writings of others.

Mary attended college during the tumultuous ’60s. She was not the type to join a rally or a protest, but she was the type to read a brochure that was distributed on campus and analyze it carefully. On one such occasion, she knew one of her friends was organizing the rally and decided to talk with her. Joan Mayfield was a headstrong woman whom Mary enjoyed very much, even though they disagreed often.

Joan, we are friends, right? Mary questioned her friend.

Uh-oh, Joan replied quickly, when someone starts a conversation with, ‘We are friends,’ it usually means something bad is going to follow that question.

No, Joan, there is not anything bad. And, my dear friend, you did not answer my question. However, I will assume that I have your friendship and your confidence.

You certainly do. What’s up, Mary?

I read your brochure. You left them stacked on the table. I don’t think it says what you want it to say.

Okay, Mary, help me out here. I wrote it, you know, so you are criticizing me. What did I say wrong?

Joan, there are too many loaded statements in your response. First, I am not criticizing you. Secondly, I did not say you were wrong. However, I don’t believe that you agree with the United States government, right?

Duh. Come on, Mary, you know that I don’t agree with Johnson. He is a terrible president.

Okay, I will leave that statement alone for a minute. Just check out this sentence. Don’t you think the addition of the word ‘not’ would more closely align with your political philosophy?

Joan took a moment to reread the one-page paper. Mary was right; the conclusion statement made it sound like she agreed with the government. Thank you, Mary, came her subdued reply, Now what am I going to do? They are all printed.

Emboldened by her friend’s response, Mary continued, I can help, Joan. I have taken the liberty to rewrite your flier. Please look.

Now Joan was a bit miffed. Let me get this straight. You don’t agree with my positions and you are going to help me rewrite something you don’t agree with?

That is an overstatement, Joan. I do agree with some of your positions. But mostly, I agree and encourage clear thinking. I agree with you that our government needs to be more responsive to the people of the United States. I do not agree with the way you state your disagreement. Anyway, I would like to make one more suggestion if you’re open to more discussion.

I am all ears! Joan stated emphatically with a bit of sarcasm.

"If you don’t have the time or money to change the fliers, why not take a black marker, make an arrow to the omitted section and write no or not in bold to get your point across?"

Joan was now impressed, Thank you, Mary, that is a great idea, and I will accept your help. Sorry for my sarcasm. I do so appreciate the catch on your part. It would have been very embarrassing if we had handed this out to the students.

Let’s get started, Mary replied quietly. "I am glad to help.

Les Nouvelle

Volume CXXX No. 248 Paris, France Wednesday, September 4, 1972

We print everything, no matter the source.

OLYMPIC GAMES MASSACRE;

MUNICH GAMES A DISASTER

Reading the headlines, Mary looked intently at her new baby. Samuel was resting comfortably in his mother’s arms. The contrast could not have been starker. The headlines told stories of a world at war, about people in great conflicts and hatred and violence. Samuel’s face told a different tale, a good one, a peaceful one where all should strive to be. That peace was the ideal; the headlines were aberrant; serenity was the norm; chaos was against the natural order; Samuel’s face was the picture of God; the horrible killings were from the face of the enemy.

Mary contemplated Thomas Hobbes’s writings during this time of being alone. When Hobbes wrote Leviathan, he contemplated that the inherent wants and desires of the typical human being were inherently selfish, with an inward focus. Because these desires have such a bent, these potentially destructive forces had to be overcome. Even though everyone believes that she or he is acting with consideration for others, eventually, inherently, we will default to a position that takes care of our individual needs and wants.

Mary liked Hobbes’s writings, but she rejected the idea that we needed a sovereign king or ruling body to make sure that we are headed in the right direction. As she pondered history (and she was keenly aware of her own biases, more than most), she observed example after example of the abuse of power in ruling kings, queens, and even so-called ruling bodies. Rather than focusing on the selfish nature of the few, she saw much more cooperation throughout history, and she saw so many highlights of altruistic people whose lights continued to shine long after they had left the planet for some well-deserved rest.

Immanuel Kant’s writings were much more to her liking. His categorical imperative was, at the very least, a good attempt to remind people to act in a manner to benefit all. Even if his theory came under attack, Mary loved the idea of duty and that we should focus on that duty to the common good, duty to make things better, and duty to raise a wonderful son who will set his sights on the common good. She knew that as with most things in life, balance between competing theories and ideas was the key. Somewhere between Hobbes’s sovereign and Kant’s ideas on self-governance was a place that she should land with her ideals.

Looking into Samuel’s face, she saw a man with such ideals, and she and Tom would see to it that Samuel would be ultraprepared for his place in life. She saw a future filled with brightness; she saw positiveness in the -nth degree; she saw hope in the beautiful eyes of her son; and she saw something that few other people get to see—a boy who would change the world.

The Partisan Post

Volume LXXX No. 102 Billings, Montana Wednesday, November 8, 1972

We stand for truth and we sit for truth if we disagree.

NIXON REELECTED IN LANDSLIDE

DEMOCRATS RETAIN CONGRESS

Tom was not as analytical as Mary, but he loved their long, drawn-out discussions about history lessons and how things are today and how things should be in the future.

Now they were holding the brand-new baby boy. Does life get any better than that?

No, it doesn’t!

2

Dreams and Ideas

The Memphis Blues and News

Volume 22, 202 Memphis, Tennessee Tuesday, August 16, 1977

We cry aloud with our friends.

ELVIS IS DEAD

SINGER DIES AT 42

MANY DREAMS DIE WITH HIM

There had been accounts recorded of significant dreams and dreamers throughout history. Some of these accounts were doubted, but most all agree there had been significant dreams throughout the centuries.

The Dreams of Joseph (1870s bc)

Joseph had a dream, and when he told it to his brothers, they hated him more. He said to them, Listen to this dream I had: We were binding sheaves of grain out in the field when suddenly my sheaf rose and stood upright, while your sheaves gathered around mine and bowed down to it. His brothers said to him, Do you intend to reign over us? Will you actually rule us? And they hated him even more because of his dream and what he had said. Then he had another dream, and he told it to his brothers. Listen, he said, I had another dream, and this time the sun and moon and eleven stars were bowing down to me. When he told his father as well as his brothers, his father rebuked him and said, What is this dream you had? Will your mother and I and your brothers actually come and bow down to the ground before you? His brothers were jealous of him, but his father kept the matter in mind. (Gen. 37:5–11, NIV)

Alexander meeting the Jews (300s BC)

Many dreams were attributed to the young king. Fear spread throughout the lands of the Middle East as his armies conquered country after country, region after region with seemingly little resistance. The only recorded event that Alexander had with the Jews was his approach to Jerusalem. Reportedly, Jaddua, the high priest, was warned in a dream not to resist Alexander. Instead, he ordered fine clothing to be worn and refreshments set out for the great king. He went to meet Alexander followed by the priests, all dressed in fine clothing. When Alexander saw the high priest, he worshiped God— the God of the Jews. This act would have shocked those who served under him; they had only witnessed great kings salute their king, not the other way around. Alexander’s answer to his troops was that he witnessed all that had taken place in a dream and that this meeting would usher him to the gateway of defeating the Persians.

Joseph and the birth of Jesus the Christ (between BC and AD)

This was how the birth of Jesus the Messiah came about: His mother Mary was pledged to be married to Joseph, but before they came together, she was found to be pregnant through the Holy Spirit.

Because Joseph her husband was faithful to the law, and yet did not want to expose her to public disgrace, he had in mind to divorce her quietly.

But after he had considered this, an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream and said, Joseph son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary home as your wife, because what is conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. She will give birth to a son, and you are to give him the name Jesus, because he will save his people from their sins. All this took place to fulfill what the Lord had said through the prophet: The virgin will conceive and give birth to a son, and they will call him Immanuel (which means God with us). When Joseph woke up, he did what the angel of the Lord had commanded him and took Mary home as his wife. But he did not consummate their marriage until she gave birth to a son. And he gave him the name Jesus. (Matt. 1:18–25, NIV)

Lincoln on his own death (April 1865)

According to Ward Hill Lamon, three days before his death, Lincoln related a dream in which he wandered the White House searching for the source of mournful sounds.

I kept on until I arrived at the East Room, which I entered. There I met with a sickening surprise. Before me was a catafalque, on which rested a corpse wrapped in funeral vestments. Around it were stationed soldiers who were acting as guards; and there was a throng of people, gazing mournfully upon the corpse, whose face was covered, others weeping pitifully. Who is dead in the White House? I demanded of one of the soldiers, The President, was his answer; he was killed by an assassin. [Recollections of Abraham Lincoln 1847–1865 by Ward Hill Lamon (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1999), 116–117].

Mary Shelly, Frankenstein (1818)

Then one evening, when discussion turned to the nature of life, Shelley suggested perhaps a corpse could be re-animated backed by the thought that galvanism had given token of such things. Later that night after turning in, her imagination took hold and she experienced what she described as a vivid waking dream:

I saw the pale student of unhallowed arts kneeling beside the thing he had put together. I saw the hideous phantasm of a man stretched out, and then, on the working of some powerful engine, show signs of life, and stir with an uneasy, half vital motion. Frightful must it be; for supremely frightful would be the effect of any human endeavor to mock the stupendous mechanism of the Creator of the world. (Wikipedia)

The Arkansas Ascender

Ninety-Third Year Little Rock, Arkansas Monday, April 15, 1912

Sometimes the news brings us down.

TITANIC SINKS!

1,500 DIE!

New York lawyer Isaac Frauenthal had a dream before boarding the RMS Titanic. It seemed to me that I was on a big steamship that suddenly crashed into something and began to go down. He had the dream again when onboard the Titanic and was so alert to the danger when he heard about the iceberg collision. Frauenthal survived the sinking (Hartman, Ernest, MD, Biology of Dreaming, Charles C. Thomas Publications Ltd, 1997).

When Samuel did dream (which was quite often) his dreams were spectacular. He dreamed of a metal band of steel in space around the earth with spectacular futuristic machines racing toward each other. Sometimes they would crash into each other, and other times, they would race by each other as fast as any Indy racecar. When he would awake from these futuristic dreams, he would be troubled for hours. In the early part of his life, he would approach his parents and explain to them what he had just seen and witnessed. However, as good as they were to Samuel (and they were very good), they would just reply that he had an overactive imagination and that he should calm down. They would put him back to bed, and he would wait until they were gone. Then he would stand at the window, staring into the cold Minnesota night.

But futuristic dreams were not the only dreams for this young man. He would often dream of children in need. He would put them on his back and carry them across a river as needed and then he would carry them back. He would stoop down low to help them and hold them in his arms. In these dreams, he was older, and he knew that he must help in any way that he could. He helped and helped in these types of dreams, never giving up.

He would dream of nuclear holocausts with great devastation everywhere. In one such dream, he was in the company of a very attractive blonde woman who was terrified at the thought of the pending event. They were in a log cabin together, but they could see the beginnings of war in the distance. He held her close, not in a romantic vein but rather as her protector, and he uttered these words strongly, If you are with me, nothing will happen to you. You will be safe. Even though there were other words spoken in the dream, those are the ones he remembered when he awakened some time later. Finally, off in the distance, a red, white, and blue mushroom cloud erupted, sending the nuclear wind in all directions. He held her close, and when the destructive force arrived, it went around the cabin. All around them was destroyed, but they were safe as he had explained to her they would be. When he was fully awake, he recorded his notes, feeling a great sense of satisfaction that he helped that woman in the dream.

In other nuclear holocaust dreams, he would be traversing through the ruins carrying others, many others, perhaps fifty others, on his back, always taking care of them and always fending for them in a variety of ways. During these dreams, hands reached to grab him, to stop him, but he would have none of it, brushing them away easily and protecting those he had come to serve. What was truly amazing was