There would be plenty to talk about this morning under normal circumstances, but we agreed that things have changed. We had contemplated going ahead with the touching story we laughed about at the Belmont Farm’s Farm-to-Flask happy hour the night before. It seemed appropriate at the time, but thankfully the artwork took unenhanced labor, and we looked at it with horror this morning, thankful we had not just sent it.
We have encountered changes before, both as groups and as individuals, and there was some raucous reminder of foolish behavior before things became different. Some of the commentary was sufficient to be routed over to the Legal Department at Socotra House for review to ensure compliance under Article 88 in the Uniform Code of Military Justice (UCMJ). That is potentially going to slow down the ‘heartwarming’ end of our publishing business, but with more than a century in uniform, our group is accustomed to overcoming resistance to joy. Even if it takes time to build things back better. Like last week. We are still working on that.
DeMille glanced at his pocket Day Timer and reminded us to be more diverse, equitable and less phobic. When Rocket asked what we were supposed to avoid this week, DeMille smiled and said he would let us know. But he had sent a strong note to management requesting scarce resources to ensure there was a robust intersectional representation in the Section. Justification? “To ensure equities were protected with additional views.” There was a general sense of unease, but we agreed to nod in the fashion that best expressed conformance with changing policy.
The duty Attorney had thoughtfully dispatched one of his Interns to provide on-the-spot legal guidance if necessary. We were told to remember to be respectful of all officials specifically named in the Article. And to specifically heed the reminder from the government office we used to work for that retirees- some of us out of uniform for a couple decades- could still be hauled in front of a military court for judgement.
Splash chortled with Loma, both unwilling to get up from their bedrolls by the fire ring. They seemed to be amused that the latest National Defense Authorization contained language extending “Red Flag” rules to active service personnel who should be denied their Constitutional rights. It was Loma who reminded us that, by definition, retirees could be subject to the same UCMJ provisions as active personnel. As you might imagine, that sparked a small firestorm between those drinking coffee on the Loading Dock and those still struggling to extricate themselves from their sleeping regalia.
In the interests of forward compliance to unknown edicts from the government we once served, the Intern told us to just be quiet and maybe we wouldn’t be bothered. As a matter of course in our new system of government, we decided to just bitch where we were, privately, rather than shout out our protestations to the ether.
Which left us in the position of nearing the weekend without something uplifting and heartwarming to publish that would make us all better and happier people, even if we had potable water to share. The Writer’s Section was happy to take that on. We began to scan the grounds leading to the lower pasture for something universal and good to talk about. There any many of those on display, regardless of season. The freedom of some of our birds protected under the Migratory Species Act is inspiring, unless we want them to go elsewhere. The determination of unprotected species to go about their winged business unmolested inspires us to strive in the same manner.
This morning there was nothing in particular to draw our attention, the grass still resolutely displaying its living vibrant hue. A dark patch on the hay near the creek bed could have represented the dynamic inspiration of a flock of avian creatures, bravely confronting the change of season. Or it could have been the first real noticeable accumulation of leaves detached from their uplifting branches in the trees above, shedding their brilliant green of summer for the darkness that comes with the change of season. There is something to celebrate in that process as our spinning globe hurtles through its predetermined arc in the vastness of space.
For instance, we are not under indictment at the moment, or at least unaware of any charges in preparation. As a matter of civic and National Security safety, we are reviewing the UCMJ field manual to ensure that our behavior after service to the nation is not misconstrued. We agreed to be compliant, at least externally, with whatever Washington decides is appropriate to dispatch law enforcement personnel to enforce.
It is a mark of our commitment to whatever the government decides is in fashion, you know? It used to be easier, but we are fully onboard with whatever it is. The grass is still green. And thank goodness we don’t live in Craterville. Yet.
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