Children of the Veil

Seems man has always had a fascination for buried treasure, whether on land or sea, and the lure of gold, precious stones, wealth, and fame leading to mass migrations and the diaspora to the new world after its discovery. Long before the Vikings or Columbus, who never did the Salsa with Gloria in Miami, dined on a Big Mac and fries at MacDonalds, or left his footprint on the shores of the Outer Banks. He was close but never here; but ancient Iberians, Phoenicians, and the Celts were. Dating back as far as 5500-6000 years ago a mountain of evidence points to their presence in this land. From a burial site with artifacts buried 60’ below the ground in West Virginia, the Ten Commandments written in stone in the Hebraic language, the Los Lunas decalogue in New Mexico, and dolmens and megaliths throughout our land with inscriptions and artifacts, treasures in the form of tablets and written records that help us unlock the past, Rosetta Stones of the West.

The Spaniards sought for the seven cities of Cibola and Eldorado, rumored treasure cities, buoyed by the riches found in the Aztec empire, myth and legend divided by a thin veil in reality. Journeys documented traversing the Mississippi river then turning west following the Arkansas and Cimarron rivers venturing into the American heartland by the Celts, Libyans, Iberians, and even one Basque King, centuries before Christ.

Not neglecting the presence of the American Indian, only the claim to the length of time of his existence here. Rewritten, revised, and redacted history acknowledges the American Indian solely with the acclaim of being native. The term native is ambiguous and not defined in years. How long does anyone have to be anywhere to be called native? The term can apply to the age and duration of anything; plants, animals, politics, business. As people of different racial streams, the most recent in the earth’s illustrious history, originating in Africa, Mesopotamia or the Pamir Plateau, it is safe to say that somewhere in our ancestry we all migrated to where we are now. All of us came from somewhere else supplanting anyone who might have been there before us, the moniker ‘native’ misleading at best.

But returning to the original statement of buried treasure, recently two steamboats, the Malta and the Arabia were found in corn fields one half mile from the Missouri Rivers present course, something atop the boat found at 37’ and 45’ respectively underneath the ground close to Kansas City. It took less than 200 years to make such an astounding change in the original site where the boats first submerged. We seldom think about what might lie under the ground beneath our feet, but it is this curiosity that begins our story.

We called it ‘the porch’. It was Pa’s pulpit, better than preachin’. There he would teach us about livin’ and never bringin’ shame on our family name. ‘Don’t go lookin’ for trouble’ he would say, ‘but if it comes don’t shy from it neither. Man’s got to pick his battles though and know when to stay out of other folks’ business’. He wanted no part in the feuding between the states. ‘Some have a lot to gain, while others everything to lose. How can any government agitate goin’ to war with itself severin’ its own feet and legs. One thing for sure, there will be a scar that will never fully heal’.

We lived on a farm just outta Bardstown Kentuck already gainin’ favor for its fine corn squeezin’s. Pa and I would enjoy some, him saying ‘sip and savor’. ‘Never drink to get drunk hangin’ out at saloons drinkin’ Kansas sheep dip and wantin’ a painted woman. And be careful not to judge her. There’s not a young lady I know who dreams of growin’ up and bein’ a whore for a livin’. If they find themselves destitute, without a husband, desperate to feed themselves and maybe sum youngin’s, outnumbered from 20 to 40 to 1 out west, they have few options. The greater guilt doesn’t lie with the lewd bawdy display of the women, Azazel taught them well, as much as with the vulgar, base, degenerate nature of men. It ain’t right, it’s just the way it is. It’s easy to judge other people’s mistakes, difficult to recognize our own’. ‘Never judge someone’, you said, 'by the opinion of others, or by their relatives’. ‘How will I ever find the right woman’? I asked. Pa replied, ‘forget findin’ the right woman. Focus on bein’ the right man’.

It was early spring in 1860. I was 22 and I was fixin’ to go. Pa and Ma understood. Didn’t mean they had to like it. Pa said they would be ok, my younger brothers more than capable of takin’ up the slack. ‘Don’t look back Son, you’re not headed that way’ he told me. So I, Tanner Mack, with my friend, Samuel Edward Jefferson Tillman the third, Sammy T to his friends headed west to the gold fields in the Kansas Territory soon to be known as the Colorado Territory in 1861.

The Colorado gold rush also known as the Pikes Peak gold rush was the second largest in the country, behind California. 300,000 migrants. descended on California, approximately half by sea and half by land, including many foreigners from Europe, Africa, and Asia. They were known as 49ers. The 59ers as they were known in Colorado, drawing thousands of folks in the years 1858-59, settled in among the ‘Fourteens’ a name given to the home of 58 of the 96 mountains in the lower 48 at elevations of 14,000 ft. or more. Reachin’ Denver City, Sammy T and I continued to Gregory Gulch and the Central City district and laid claim up the North Fork of the Clear Creek River, at around 9,000 ft. elevation.

Before we came we spent time with an knurly old neighbor who had lived in the mountain’s tellin’ yarns and teachin’ us about pannin’ and sluicin’ a small river. Though we was green as grass we had a handle on the process and set up a small-time placer operation. We always had each other’s back and kept a diligence, watchful for danger. Everday high up the ravine on the slopes of the mountain top we noticed a misty veil over its peak. Made no difference what time of day or what kind of weather. We asked about this curiosity but no one knew nuthin’ about it.

We made friends with Matthew who laid claim close by ours. As winter set in we needed to get off the mountain and he invited us to spend it with him and his sister Josie in a room they could rent. For helpin’ out and a reasonable fee we agreed. We really didn’t have much of a plan and this was better than good. Josie was easy on the eyes and a good cook. Nope, passin’ the time that winter in their cozy cabin wasn’t bad at all.

Come spring along with Matthew we were off again. Josie found work sewin’ for folks and hired a local young man to help with all the outside chores. We kept in touch gettin’ a post off on occasion. She needed to know we was ok, and wood keep us apprised of her doin’s. That summer we worked hard, expanded our operation, and come late fall returned with Matthew to Golden and Josie.

It was no secret Josie and I was developin’ feelin’s for each other. ‘Tanner’, Mathew said one day, ‘she’s all the family I got. I reckon I feel protective over her, Ma and Pa bein’ gone for sum time. I knew the day would come when some cowhoot would come to call and I’ve been dreadin’ it. But since I’m the one who ask you to come live with us, the onus is on me. However, if I had my druthers I would choose someone just like you. I’ve seen the way you light her candle, and she yours. So what I’m sayin’ is I’m right as rain about you courtin’ my sis. I think you are a good man with a good heart. I expect you will always treat her like the lady she is and respect her like you would yer own Ma’. Turning I looked him right in the eyes. ‘I’m thankin’ you for all that you said. You and Josie are a treasure to me. I feel like I will always be in yer debt’. Smilin’ he said ‘Whew, now that I got that over let’s go inside and have some vittles’.

Spring came early. I was anxious to go, sorry to leave. Josie and I made some agreements and with tear filled eyes said our goodbyes. So, it was back to the mountain and the strange veil that covered the top of it. I remained very curious, but was no closer to gettin’ an explanation. July arrived and it was hot and hairy. Sammy and I were intent lookin’ at sum color when someone started throwin’ down on us. I turned, my iron in my hand and returned fire. Sammy took some lead and went down hard. He lay motionless and was bleedin’ bad. I feared he has just bought the farm. Then a bullet punched a hole in my chest knocking me backwards into the river. Floating in the water I disappeared downstream.

There is a level of consciousness difficult to describe, escaping modern textbooks and purveyor’s of modern psychological thought and disciplines. I was carried by soft hands and dragonfly breath to a bed of wings and sublime rest. I awoke to a dimension similar to the earth, concrete but not with the same boundaries.

I became aware of an older man sitting beside me. My eyes opened and he welcomed me. Asking questions like someone returnin’ from the dead I inquired, ‘Who are you, where am I’? ‘I am ‘cennard -cinniah’ known simply as the ‘chief’ he said. ‘The children brought you here to heal'. I felt no pain and found no puncture. ‘How’? I asked. ‘The children’ you said ‘are a gift to the earth, healing and intervening until its final transition. You rest in the veiled mist you observed in your vain quest for gold and material riches. We call it the Citadel, built by early voyagers their history forgotten and not taught’. ‘And the children’? I asked. ‘They were born to the clann, a word derived from ‘Adhamhchlann’ meaning the children of Adam, taken at birth, abandoned and in dire circumstance, brought here and not subjected to the traditional awakenings and influences of other children. No carousels, Brahms lullaby, stuffed toys of inanimate creatures, baby talk or early tutoring in the worlds ways of magical kingdoms, make believe, and myth. Theirs was a release into a place of endless possibilities and love that the world only sings and writes about but never experiences. They are not subject to the limitations of mortal man’. They run everywhere without shoes, wear scant clothing no matter the weather, are friends with all the animals, insects, and plants, and move about with their feet seeming to hover above the ground. They speak with their eyes and mind, seldom with their lips, and a sweet melodic sound emanates from them. You do not engage them. They come to you when the time is ready. They travel anywhere among the stars and in but a moment return. They appear supremely happy and are often found playing with each other and among the animals that inhabit the forest’.

‘They are sent by command, not mine’ he said, ‘to heal and help mankind’. ‘Yours’, he said speaking to me ‘is an example. They bring food to starving mouths, heal little ones burning with fever and speak to the inner knowing of those who listen to prevent calamity and harm. The playing child is protected from the snakes venom, the serpent ready to strike hidden in the grass and the unsuspecting angler from the stalking of the mountain lion seeking prey. The children speak to the animals and they obey, their natural instincts and aggression abated. They will do no harm again. If you see them it is only a fleeting glimpse leaving an illusion in your mind’.

‘The children and this place are protected, guarded from the baneful intrusions of man. Those who are brought here can leave at any time or remain if they choose to stay. Staying they will have a meaningful productive life aging gracefully until they make a peaceful transition. If you leave it will be without a memory of this place, your time being here, or of the children. This too is for the protection of all that goes on here. If you seek entrance without invitation, you will become disoriented and lost returning home. You for unique reasons will be allowed to retain certain memories. This you will understand as your future unfolds’.

Days past and I basked in the extraordinary magnificence of this place. Every day was bright and beautiful, and I was filled with anticipation for the next moment. Often the children would come for me and include me in their activities and the work they did, which didn’t seem like work at all. I was taught so much, things unimagined and delightful, but so valuable and practical when applied.

One day the chief came to me and said, ‘it’s time for you to go’. I nodded my head in consent and then looked hard at him and inquired, ‘Chief, how old are you’? He smiled and chuckled, ‘when I first arrived in this land, we were the only ones here. I suppose you might even call me a ‘native’, older than time itself. There is one’ he continued ‘who waits for you never giving up hope of your return buoyed by the children emanating thoughts to her of your safety and imminent reunion. Your friends as well need you, grieved at the thought of your death’.

So, guided by the children I returned to my camp along the river delighted to see a healthy Sammy T, who aided by the children made a complete recovery, and my dear friend Matthew. What a reunion as they plied me with questions, some of which I could answer. It was the middle of October and they were prepared to leave for Golden and Josie. The children had prepared a backpack for me and it was laden with ancient gold coins enough for Josie and I and the work I was to do.

The return seemed to take an eternity but in reality only a couple of days. Late in a idyllic beautiful fall day the cabin came into view and then a yellin’, screamin’, flurry of fabric crashed into me with tears flowing freely and endless kisses and hugs. We stood absolutely immersed in the moment. A body could get used to this I thought, and I did. That week I married that gal!

I never went back to the gold fields, but with the gold coins the children gave me, which brought quite a premium, we purchased a working ranch complete with hired hands. Through wise investing and a few acquisitions, we established shelters and training facilities for poor destitute families, widows and orphans. ‘The poor’ the saviour said, ‘you will have with you always’. At night with the love of my life sleeping by my side, the children would often come to me in my thoughts and dreams, laughing, dancing, and always leavin’ a sweet fragrance that lingered behind. In the mornin’ Josie would wake and smile and drawin’ a breathe would say, ‘ah, the children were here again’.

Do you want to go to Heaven? There awaits sublime horizons for those that do. I know. Because one day, beyond the veil, I entered Heaven’s Gate.