Cornerstone Traveler

Writing in New Patlz


Hi everyone and welcome to another exciting and thought provoking issue of this

bi-weekly newsletter, The CORNERSTONE TRAVELER.  Also available online at


mid-Hudson Valley news:  I know I have written of this before, but I am still intrigued with the five or so ponds that border Route 44/55 from Modena to Highland.  I am pretty certain they were formed by the retreating ice of the last ice shelf of the last ice age.  I am interested in knowing what lies below the sediment of these ponds.  Could there be bones of ancient animals or even humans?  It is an interesting thought don’t you think?  I can only suppose that these thoughts spring from when I was young and I wanted to study archeology.  I still want to study archeology, fifty years later.


observations:  There has been news of the bankruptcy of the Big Apple Circus.  They are auctioning most of the equipment and tents from this circus in Wallkill, a nearby town.  This circus has been entertaining the public since 1976.

Then I heard that the Ringling Brothers and Barnum and Bailey Circus’ will shut down this May after 146 years.  It is a shame that theses circus’ will be shut down.  Admittedly I haven’t been to a circus in many, many years.  I know when I read ad in a newspaper that Barnum and Bailey Circus was willing to train wanna be clowns in Florida.  I was in college at the time and seriously thought about becoming a clown.  But I didn’t think I could warm up my parents to the idea.  It got to the point where I earned the nick name The Clown Man.  I even thought I wanted to get a summer job as a rodeo clown.  I really liked clowns and wanted to be one.


sports:  NFL:  The Giants lost to the Packers in the wild card game by a score of 38-13.  A sad day for Giants fans.

NBA:  the Knicks are 10 games back in the Eastern Division with a record of 18-24.  The Nets are 19 games back in the same division with a record of 8-32.

NHL:  The Rangers are 7 points back in the Metropolitan Division of the Eastern Conference with a record of 28-15-1.  They have 57 points.

The Islanders are 22 points back with a record of 17-17-8 and have 42 points.


other:  As with all previous issues of this newsletter everything written here is either copyright protected or copyright pending.  The history of P&G’s follows this newsletter from about the mid 1930’s to almost the present.

The short story that follows this history is the first part of a multiple part short story I wrote The BOOK.

I hope you like it.

Thank-you  -  Rik McGuire



























                   History of P&G’s continued to the present


From 1925 – 1945 a number of diverse businesses occupied the building.  These included Carols Clothing Store (1937), Atkins Drug Store (1938), Schaffert Real Estate Office (1943),  and Dicks Bar and Grill among others.

In 1947 Dicks Bar and Grill was purchased by two Lake Mohonk employees, Pat Cafferty and George Jayne.  Legend has it that neither told their wives of their intention to purchase the business.  They immediately changed the Grills name to Pat and Georges.  Among it loyal customers it was simply P&G’s.

One of the best things to happen to P&G’s occurred in 1961.  An ex Dodger player named Stormer Nickerson became a bartender.  Stormy as he was affectionately known became something of a legend.  His heart, quiet good humor and generous spirit made P&G’s the one place that welcomed all from the harsher outside world into a refuge for college students, business people, local characters and even for a while, in the 1960’s, bikers.  According to one source.  “They weren’t as rowdy a crew as you might expect because although he was quiet, Stormy commanded and got respect.”  His professional baseball background made him a natural to pitch batting practice for the New Paltz College teams and he did so for a number of seasons.  One college fraternity considered P&G’s their private domain.  The scene of everything important, news, views, camaraderie and especially humor was always evident at P&G’s.

After the St. Helens volcano erupted and news reports discussed the possibility of ash fall out across the U.S., Stormy came to work to find the staff dressed in garbage bags and metal kitchen colanders on their heads.  Since no ash was reported on anyone Stormy reasoned the attire had been affective by making everyone laugh their ash off.


In June 1991, after 30 years, Stormy retired from P&G’s.  He died in June of 1994.  From his casual humor that lingers, to his Chile recipe that is still served and the kind memories often repeated by his many friends, Stormy is still here.

In 1969 Edwin Beck bought P&G’s.  His first weekend as owner was completely successful.  The following weekend, however, the place was deserted.  A disheartened Beck couldn’t understand what he had done to alienate everyone so quickly.  He was relieved to learn it was simply a matter of poor timing.  Everyone was away and wallowing in a farm in Bethel NY.  A music festival or something.

Ed Beck never spent time worrying.  He looked across Main Street and up Platekill Avenue, seeing thousands of thirsty college students who, for the most part remained on campus.

Taking a good supply of liquid refreshment, Beck went to the campus and gave the students (all legal in those days) a new place to call home.  He transformed P&G’s from a neighborhood bar into a local institution.

The face of Beck’s personality had much to do with the continued success of P&G’s, the place was fun.  One oft quoted story about Beck concerns a young P&G’s enthusiast who wanted to be just like Beck when he grew up.  It is reported that Beck in all humility replied.  “Well you can’t do both.”

The name Pat and Georges was officially changed to P&G’s in the 1980’s by Ed Beck and his son Mike.  In 1985, Mike bought out his father’s interest.  In 1994, he undertook extensive renovations, making the building exterior appear as it did in 1900, when it was the Casino.






He looked haggard and tired as he trudged up the steps to the old church atop a mountain peak in the Pyrenees.  His hair was past his ears and he had a two week growth of beard.  His eyes were hollow as if he hadn’t slept in days.  The six foot wooden staff provided needed support as he climbed up each step painfully.

Cliff Jacobs was tired.  He had been exploring the Pyrenees for over two months searching for the church that held the fabled library.  The fabled library that was only whispered about among archeologists, anthropologists and other like minded researchers.  It was the library that held the BOOK.  The BOOK that explained everything of human existence.  No one he knew had actually seen the BOOK, but all were certain that it existed.

When was the BOOK written, no one knew.  Why it was written, no one knew.  Who wrote it and again no one knew.

Cliff was finally able to climb the steps to the front door.  Before him was a fifteen foot tall door with no visible latch for entrance.  He tried counting the steps to the door, but gave up after he counted two hundred and he knew he wasn’t even close to the peak of the stairs.  He was gasping for breath and had to wait before he rapped his staff against the door to announce his presence.  He saw the door was framed on both sides by finely polished granite almost marble looking stone that stretched at least one hundred feet on either side before coming to a corner.  Cliff knew from his brief geological training in archeology that the granite, marble were not found there in the mountains and it must have been hauled by mule, horse or oxen over one thousand years ago a hundred miles at least.  His anthropological training taught him that this church must be special for the original builders to haul this granite, marble that many miles.  He marveled at the craftsmanship of the stone.  It was obvious that each stone was hand sculpted to fit so precisely with adjoining stones.

When he thought he had finally caught his breath and could almost breathe normally, even at the higher altitude, he rapped his staff against the wooden door.

After a few minutes the massive fifteen foot door swung open and he was met by a tiny almost frail, five foot tall grey and balding man in a brown robe.  Cliff couldn’t believe that this tiny almost frail man could have opened the door by himself.   But all he could do was enter into the compound surrounded be the granite, marble walls when invited to enter by the old man.

“Thank you.”  He said.

“I have been expecting you Mr. Jacobs.”  The tiny man smiled.

Cliff didn’t know how to respond.  He told no one that this church was the last stop in his search.  “You were expecting me?”  He asked.

“Yes.”  The tiny man said.  “Your appearance at the door was predicted in the BOOK, that you seek.”

“You know that I seek this book?”  He asked.

“Of course.  Because the BOOK said you would and I am here to accommodate you and to teach you of the BOOK.”  The tiny, frail monk said, though to Cliff’s eyes he had grown taller.  He wasn’t as frail looking as he had been a few minutes earlier.

“You seek the BOOK, but first you must know who and why I exist as does the BOOK.”  The monk said.

Cliff nodded.  “Yes.  I am seeking the BOOK that is only whispered about by my fellow academicians.  It is a special Book that will tell of our existence and why of our existence,”

The monk nodded.  “Yes.  It will teach you of what you wish to learn.  But it can be confusing as well.”

“How?”  Cliff asked.

The monk smiled.  “It has only three chapters.”

“Three?”  Cliff asked.  “How can there be only three if it is the source of all knowledge of human existence?”

The monk only smiled.  “You will learn that there is only three chapters needed to learn of human existence.  The past, the present and the unpredictably of the future.”

“I can learn all this from just one book?”  He had to ask.

The monk only smiled.  “It will be all you need.  Trust me.”

Cliff stepped back and thought with his hand to his chin.  He finally said.  “You say this book has only three chapters?  A chapter for the past, a chapter for the present and a chapter for the future?  How can that be?  The past alone could fill an encyclopedia many thousands of pages.  So.  How can a book hold the past and only in one chapter?”   Cliff asked the old monk, who seemed to be growing younger with each passing minute.

The monk smiled.  “It is the magic of The BOOK.”

“You’re kidding me.”  Cliff said.

The monk shook his head.  “No.  Just think of the religions of the world.  Most claim their written works are divinely inspired.”

Cliff only nodded.  “Yes.  You are correct except for Buddhism and Hinduism the other major religions of the world. Islam, Judaism and Christianity all claim their written works were divinely inspired by their God, Allah or whoever.  But these written works have been around for thousands of years.  What makes The BOOK so special?”

The monk shook his head.  “I do not know and neither does anyone else who has read this BOOK.”

Cliff thought before he said.  “I’ve read the history of human kind hundreds of times.  What makes the history in this book so special?”

The monk smiled.  “The history you read was written by the victors of human conflict.  That is only a small percentage of human history.  In The BOOK you will read the history of the victors one day and the next you will read the history of those who lost or were vanquished.  And so it will go on day after day.”

Cliff nodded.  “So I will read a different portion of human history day after day.  When will I get to the second chapter of The BOOK, the present?”

“Only when you are ready.”  The monk said.

“And when I finish with the present, I go to the future.  Correct?”

“Yes.  But it is not advisable.”

“Why not?”

“Many who have read the future have gone mad, insane or even been committed to a hospital because they would not live with what they learned and what will happen in the future.”

“The future is that bad?”

The monk shook his head.  “No.  it would be that you may read the date and time of your own death and how you will die.  And because you have read the future as it has been written, you know there is not a damn thing you can do about it.”

“Yes.  I can see how that is so.”  Cliff said then asked.  “By the way, what is your name?  And how old are you?”

The monk smiled.  “I am father Marcellus and I was ordained in Rome five hundred years ago.”

“You are five hundred years old?”  Cliff asked, flabbergasted.

Marcellus nodded.  “Yes.  I am because I live in this church and I am the librarian of The BOOK.”

“You mean to tell me, that if I stay in this church and guard, read the BOOK I could live five hundred years or longer?”

Marcellus nodded.  “Yes.  But would you want too?”

Cliff then shook his head.  “No.  I would suppose it takes a strong character to live that long and alone.”

“Yes it does.”  Marcellus said.

Later that night, Cliff was invited to sit down in the dining hall to have a sumptuous dinner of cooked lamb, beef, duck and whatever he desired with potatoes, rice and many vegetables.  He had no idea who made the dinner and Marcellus only smiled when he asked.

After dinner he followed Marcellus to the much sought after library.  He encountered shelves and shelves of books, from the distant past to the newly released books of current authors.  Marcellus told him to pick a book for his night time reading and he found the book, David Copperfield by Charles Dickens with a binding that made it appear as the first edition of Dickens work that he took to the room he was assigned for the duration.

The room had a comfortable bed with a writing desk and dresser for the few clothes that he carried on his trek.

After he washed and completed his night time absolutions, he lay down in the bed

and read David Copperfield.   It wasn’t long before the book fell to the floor beside his bed and he was fast asleep.

The next morning after he dressed, he went down the ornate staircase to the dining room where he was met by a smiling Marcellus.

“Would like coffee?”  He asked.

“I would prefer a double espresso or even double that.”  Cliff said.

“Right away.”  Marcellus said then clapped his hands and within a minute there was a steaming mug of espresso on the shelf of a sliding door of the far wall.

“Who prepares the food and drink here?”  Cliff asked.

Marcellus smiled.  “There are a group of peasants from a nearby village down the mountain who prepare the meals and tend to the grounds and general maintenance.”

“Do they know of the this library and The BOOK?”

“They do, but they are not allowed into this area.  They know if they are caught here they will be dismissed immediately with no questions asked.  They are paid that well that none will risk termination.”

Cliff was impressed.  “Yes.  I can understand how you pay these people very well, considering the feast last night.”

“Would you like breakfast?”

“No.  I generally don’t eat breakfast, I just want to roam around the grounds and in the library so I can acclimate myself to the surroundings.  And I will do that as soon as I finish my espresso.”  He said as he lifted the mug to his lips to take a sip.

After he finished his espresso, he went back upstairs to his room to retrieve a heavy coat because he saw that it was cold outside and he wanted to explore the grounds thoroughly.

With his heavy coat he ventured outside and he saw the grounds around what he came to refer as the castle.  Though there was no moat or spaces for gun turrets, it still looked like a castle.  There were gardens everywhere around the castle walls, including a two acre vineyard.

The he saw the barns on the outside of the castle walls.  In these barns were mules, horses, oxen and even several cows.  He noted that they all appeared to be well fed and taken care of.  He saw this when they did not shy away from his touch.  The horses especially liked to be stroked down the center of their heads.  After two hours of exploration, he went back into the castle.

He was met by Marcellus as he entered the massive fifteen foot door.

“I’m impressed.”  He said to Marcellus.

“In what way?”  Marcellus asked.

Cliff spread both arms out.  “I saw the gardens, the vineyards and the barn holding your livestock.  This place is quite self sufficient.”

Marcellus nodded.  “That is the way it was designed and I have tried to keep it this way for all these years.  Though through the centuries I have been forced to buy needed supplies from the nearby village.”

“How do you pay for these supplies?”

Marcellus smiled.  “With gold coin.”

“And what is the source of this gold coin?”  Cliff naturally had to ask.

“I have a locked cache in my room with all the necessary gold coin to pay the laborers and for supplies.”

“How do you replenish this gold coin?”

Marcellus looked up to the ceiling and Cliff followed this gaze.  It was then he first noticed the painting of the sky at night.  “I’m impressed.”  Cliff said.  “Was this painted by Michelangelo?”

Marcellus laughed.  “No.  But a student of one of his students.”

“Again.  How do you replenish the gold coin?”  Cliff was forced to ask again.”

And again, Marcellus looked to the ceiling and pointed upwards.  “God.”  Was all he said and smiled.

Cliff had to turn away.  He didn’t know how to respond though he was raised a Baptist, his studies led him in the direction of agnosticism though not an atheist, he still wondered about God and if God could and did exist.

But seeing the castle, the castle grounds and the library, he had to concede there was a higher power.  Though He did not know how to acknowledge this higher power.

“I think I understand.”  Cliff said.  “Though it goes counter to everything I have been taught and believed in science.”

Marcellus nodded.  “Yes.  I can see how it would.”  He then smiled.  “I would suppose there is some in life and the universe that even scientists cannot explain.”

Cliff laughed.  “It would appear so.”

Marcellus pointed to the dining room.  “Are you ready for dinner?”

Cliff looked at his watch and saw that it was only three in the afternoon.  “Could we wait another couple of hours?  I would really like to go up to my room and continue reading David Copperfield.  I’ve somehow become very attracted to the story even though I’ve read it twice before.”

Marcellus pointed to the stairs and said.  “Go right ahead.  I will call you down in two hours for dinner.”

“Great!”  Cliff said as he prepared to climb the stairs to his room.

When he got to his room, he was pleasantly surprised to see a fire in the fireplace of his room.  It was enough that the room was warm enough that he could strip down to his shorts and t-shirt and socks to lie on his bed with the covers over him as he read the classic.

He was surprised when he heard a knock on his door and Marcellus calling.  “Dinner is prepared, are you ready to eat?”

Cliff called out that he would be down shortly as he pulled on his pants and shirt quickly and laced his boots.  He was in the dining room within a few minutes finding Marcellus already seated at the table and there were two servings ready for their consumption.

Cliff ate quickly, not realizing how famished he was and looked guiltily to Marcellus when he finished.  “I didn’t know I was that hungry.”

Marcellus only waved his hand.  “It happens to all who eat the fabulous meals prepared by the cooks here.”

Cliff put down his fork and knife then looked to Marcellus.  “I will be finished with David Copperfield tonight.  I can assume that I can start reading The BOOK tomorrow?”

Marcellus smiled,  “Only if you are ready.”

“How can I not be?”  Cliff asked.  “Considering how much I have traveled and endured for the last two months.”

Cliff finished David Copperfield by ten that night and was able to close his eyes for sleep.  Though he didn’t know how he could sleep because he was so anxious about The BOOK he was to read the next day.  He was almost like a child on Christmas Eve waiting for the big day.

He thought what would be revealed by The BOOK as he read the past.  He wondered how far back into human history The BOOK would reveal; to the reader.  It was these thought and questions he pondered when he finally lapsed into restful sleep.

When he woke the next morning, he was fully rested and saw from the little light through his window that the sun was only peaking over the horizon.  It was just before dawn and he knew he had to take a shower.  He only hoped the water was hot, real hot,  Considering he had not bathed in weeks.  The last time was in a small wooden tub in a village he passed through while he stayed at an inn.

He was pleasantly surprised that the water was almost scalding and he had to temp it with the cold faucet.  After ten minutes of scrubbing his entire body and enjoying the hot water he finally stepped out to dry himself off.

As he put his clothes on, he hoped there was a laundry in the castle so that he could wash his clothes that hadn’t seen soap since that village.  If worse came to worse he thought he could wash his clothes in the shower as he showered.

After the shower he managed to shave the two week growth of beard, leaving only the mustache he always had on his lip since he was a teen.

After he changed and went down the stairs, he was met by Marcellus with a steaming mug of what Cliff hoped was espresso.

He took the steaming mug and was pleased that it was indeed espresso.  And a full six shots of espresso.

He followed Marcellus to the dining room and Marcellus explained he would have to finish his espresso in the dining room because no food or drink was allowed in the library.

“No smoking?”  Cliff quipped

“You smoke?”  Marcellus asked.

“No.  Just thought to make certain of all your precautions.”  Cliff laughed.

“Okay.  Now then just follow mw when you are ready.”  Marcellus said.

Cliff downed the espresso faster than he cared to because he was that eager to start reading The BOOK.

After he finished the espresso, he followed Marcellus into the fabled Library.  He sat at one raised dais and waited for Marcellus to fetch The BOOK he so wanted to read.

Marcellus went to a gold trimmed mahogany cabinet and produced a key to unlock an over large ancient padlock.  He pulled out an ancient looking leather bound book that Cliff estimated weighed at least five pounds considering how Marcellus handled it.

Marcellus laid The BOOK gently on the dais.  “Remember.”  He said.  “Start at the beginning and read.  Don’t skip any pages or skip to the next chapter.  When you are finished reading return to you room and review what you have just learned.”

“If that is the best way to read this Book then by all means I will follow your advice.”  Cliff said as he opened the leather bound Book.

Marcellus had left the room when he opened The BOOK to the first pages.  He was stunned to see it was written in totally  ineligible scrawl.  Though he had training and experience in translating many ancient runes and hieroglyphics, he saw there was no way he could figure the scrawl out into something readable and understandable.  Every line of the first page was written in indecipherable scrawl as were the subsequent pages.  He flipped through at least fifty pages before he closed The BOOK with a disgusted slam.

“How can I read something that is written in an indecipherable scrawl, unknown to the human race?”  He thought to himself.

He rose from the seat behind the dais and walked to the door to leave the library and found Marcellus seated at a nearby table, smiling.

“You can’t read The BOOK can you?”  He smiled.

Cliff scowled.  “It is indecipherable.  And I have deciphered many ancient runes and hieroglyphics and never in all my studies and research have I encountered such scrawl.”

Marcellus nodded and smiled again.  “you can read it, you just need to know how.”

”How anyone can read that?”  Cliff asked.

Marcellus looked up to the night time ceiling.  “God.”  Was all he had o say.

Suddenly, the fabled light bulb lit up over Cliffs head.  He knew what he had to do to read The BOOK.  Accept God or at least that God existed.

Marcellus seemed to know what Cliff had discovered and said.  “Go to your room and think.  And if it is in you person, pray.  Then come down and try to read The BOOK again.”

Cliff nodded, looked at his watch and saw it was a little past ten.  He knew, somehow, that he needed to rest and think in his room for at least two hours.

“I’ll be down at noon for lunch and then I’ll take another shot at The BOOK.”  He said as he climbed the stairs to his room.

He got to his room, collapsed on the bed and thought of his upbringing as a Baptist.  He thought and remembered thinking as a young man how his church thought they had direct communication with God while others in their congregation did not.  It was the attitude of these ministers that pushed him away from the church and into scientific inquiry.  As he thought, he dozed for an hour and was ready to tackle The BOOK with a new perspective.  He was awakened from his doze from the light of the sun shining through his window and into his eyes.  It was almost a spectral light like a spot light shining on the featured performer.  The light piercing through his window was warm and he welcomed the warmth.  He thought he had made the connections on how to read the scrawl in The BOOK.

He went to the bath,  splashed  water on his face and combed his hair.

He padded down the stairs in his jeans, flannel shirt and knee high leather moccasins.

And as was becoming the norm, he was met by Marcellus sitting at the same table as before, outside of the library doors.

“Are you ready to read The BOOK now?”  Marcellus asked.

Cliff nodded.  “Yes.  I think I know the key.  And I won’t know for certain until I try and read The BOOK again.”

Marcellus nodded and waved a hand to the library door.  “The Book is where you left it in frustration and almost anger.”

“Frustrated?  Yes.”  Cliff said.  “But not angry.  Okay maybe a little irritated, but not anger.”

Marcellus smiled.  “The BOOK awaits you.”

Cliff went to the seat behind the dais that held the ancient book, sat down and opened the front cover.  The scrawl that was there before somehow transfigured into readable  English.  It was in long hand and in almost calligraphic script.  He looked at the first page and flipped through other pages and the script was the same readable script and not unreadable scrawl.

The first page and subsequent pages wrote how Cro-Magnon man were able to outlast the Neanderthal being.  And how the Cro-Magnon, though smaller in stature and less able to withstand the freezing cold of the last ice age, was able to survive through the use of their brains.  Whereas the Neanderthal was less able to feed themselves and survive the ice age.

He read further that many different tribes of Cro-Magnon battled and fought each other because food was so scarce during the ice age.  The few Cro-Magnon tribes that did survive the ice age were able to do so by cooperation with each other and more important, sharing.

Everything Cliff read seemed to him to be written by an observer from on high.

He read further how Cro-Magnon evolved to be an intelligent and thoughtful animal.

He turned to the next page and read the date to be around the turn of century from the twelfth to the thirteenth century.  As he read further he learned it was the thoughts of the English King, King Richard.  Richard the Lionhearted as later texts would name him.

King Richard was unsure of the need to conquer the holy land.  It was the inner most thoughts of King Richard that were never recorded in subsequent books.  King Richard  wondered the need of the crusade demanded by Rome against Muslim and Jew.  King Richard knew that although both France and Spain supported the crusade wholeheartedly, it was the English that would shoulder the manpower.

Cliff was enthralled with what he read and couldn’t seem to stop reading until his head fell onto The BOOK and he dozed for a few minutes.  He forced himself to raise his head and read more.  He then read the thoughts of Salesmen, the defector commander of the Saracens who fought the European crusaders.  He read that Salesmen knew that the invaders considered the land of his ancestors holy because of their prophet, Jesus.  But he also considered the of land his ancestors sacred because of their prophet, Mohammed.

He, Salesmen knew of no other way to protect his land, but to fight and fight ruthlessly.  And as ruthless as the invading crusaders.

The thoughts of Salazeen went on for twenty of more pages and still Cliff hadn’t finished the first chapter, the past.  He knew he had to go back to his room and review of what he had learned from The BOOK.  Later, after diner, Cliff went up to his room and wrote of what he had learned from The BOOK and his own personal thoughts.  He wrote everything in a notebook he carried so he could write in long hand because he didn’t think it wise to lug a personal lap top during his trek to find the library and The BOOK.

By mid-night his eyes were only half open because he was so tired.  He knew he needed sleep and crawled into his bed and welcomed sleep as his eyes closed for the night.

He was up by early dawn the following morning eager to read more from The BOOK.

He met Marcellus in the dining room, had his usual double, double espresso.  They talked, but all Cliff could think about was The BOOK and he wanted to read more and more of it, The BOOK.

The schedule for the next few weeks was Cliff would read The BOOK after his morning espresso, have a lite lunch with Marcellus then continue reading until diner time.  He even read after diner, many times until ten in the evening.

He read of the rebellion of the Scots against King Edward Longshanks of Britain.  Longshanks thought nothing of driving the Scottish rebellion into the ground, but there was that one thorn in his side, William Wallace who would later be known as Braveheart in the film version of his exploits.  Cliff read the thoughts of Longshanks with interest and how he viewed the Scottish people with total distaste and scorn.  He had no real respect for these people.  He then read the thoughts of William Wallace and how he was determined to let the Scottish people rule themselves.  Scotland gained its independence from Britain in 1314 s few years after Longshanks died.  It was through the fighting and rebellion of Wallace that this happened.

He learned rather quickly that each time he opened the cover of The BOOK after he went to lunch, dinner or to bed when he reopened the Ancient leather bound cover, the history was different with the thoughts of a different historical figure and a different time in history.  This is definitely magical.   He thought to himself.  There didn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason to the different histories he read.  It appeared to be a random collection of thoughts of historical figures.

When he got to the thoughts of Hitler, Stalin and a host of other despots, he only glanced at what was written of their thoughts of what was happening around them.  They were unsure of their commands, edicts and beliefs.

Both Hitler and Stalin wondered and worried about their status in the eyes of God.  Hitler was so obsessed with how he was viewed by God, he forced his people and scientists to search and find archaeological finds of the occult and God to better himself with God.

They only hoped they would be viewed favorable in history books.  Fat chance!  Cliff laughed.

With the constant changes in the pages of The BOOK, Cliff knew he had to compile meticulous notes after each reading.

He finally decided he had to go back to his home in Boston Massachusetts.  He wanted to check on his status with the Archeology Department at the University so see if his one year sabbatical was still in force.  He knew he had another eight months left on his sabbatical.  But more importantly he wanted time away from The BOOK so he could better concentrate on his notes of what The BOOK revealed of human existence through the thoughts of conquerors and the vanquished or losers.

In the few weeks he was in the library, reading The BOOK, he read where much of human history was around conflicts and wars.  As such, he read both sides of many conflicts.  Irish Catholic/Protestant,  Jews/Muslims, Tamyl/Hindus etc.  And into the American Revolution, Civil War, Spanish American War World Wars I & II. Korea, Vietnam the Gulf Wars and more.

It was in his Boston apartment he started compiling his thoughts and transcribing them onto his lap top, he came to the realization on how much of human history and existence revolved around conflict and war.

Though he was not much of a believer, he thought that the God of the Divine that everyone so worshipped must be very disappointed and angry with the human condition.


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