Date: Mon, 15 Jan 2018 23:41:48 +0000 (UTC)
From: Kim Hansen <ringinmine@yahoo.com>
Subject: Ring in Mine: John Chapter 21

Ring in Mine
    Kim Terry

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     Kim
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Ring in Mine: John Chapter 21

John was broadening out into other mediums. He even gave pastels a try. The
first pastel piece that he really liked was of the young man in his dark
cloak, lantern and staff in hand, standing in a golden pool of light.

John's midterm project for his sculpture class raised a lot of eyebrows. He
had taken one of his paintings of two men with intertwining limbs and
turned it into a two-foot high figure. The instructor allowed her religious
background to color her opinion of the work. To her it was perverted and
obscene, especially from such a young artist.

John felt vindicated when the piece was given a spot in the Eclectic
Synergy gallery. He enjoyed creating the piece. He reveled in the
controversy it created. He was very impressed with the price tag.

John was showing great progress in his physical and emotional recovery. He
noticed that his father was a regular spectator when he worked out in the
gym. Often it took a lot of self-control not to reach out for his dad.

The horrors of the year mostly stayed in the shadows where they belonged,
but when they surfaced John would fall apart. He had good friends to lean
on.


The third week before the end of the quarter, no one had presentations due
in Communications. The instructor had guests show different mediums
demonstrating effective communication giving the students ideas for their
final projects. There were so many great ideas. John was thinking of ways
to use his art skills to create something impactful.

On Friday morning the teacher announced, "Class, today we have a film
created by three film students from Utah State in Logan. The creators
couldn't make it today. We are going to show the film twice. When it is
finished I want you to write a paragraph of how this film made you
feel. The second time we will look for techniques they used."

The film started. John quickly became uncomfortable. He began to shake
uncontrollably; tears ran down his face. When the lights came on after the
film the class found John curled into a fetal ball under the table.

Concerned the instructor got down on his knees. "John!" He said placing his
hand on the young man. There was no response. The teacher placed his
fingers on his student's neck. At least there was a pulse. Nigel crawled
under the table and held his friend.

John's instructors had all been instructed to notify the Provost's office
if there were any problems with John. He restarted the tape and stepped out
to call for reinforcements.

"I was showing a film from Utah State about those boys that were kidnapped
last February." The instructor explained.

The line went dead. Before the film had finished a second time a breathless
Coach Litchfield appeared at the classroom door. The lights came on and
rather than pulling John from under the table the coach joined his
son. Mark put his arm around his son and Nigel. He pulled them both
close. Mark was furious, but he had had time to process his anger. This was
no one's fault but his and the bastards that had done this to his boy.

John leaned into the hug and began to sob on his dad's shoulder and Mark
cried with him. Finally John relaxed in his father's care and joined the
real world. Mark had snagged a sports medicine student with a wheelchair.

"Since we are studying communication, you need to understand John's
reaction to the film. I need you to see what is in the next building."
Nigel suggested. "The show doesn't officially open until tomorrow." Nigel
and Duane had been John's audience as he practiced for the Opening of
John's exhibit.

Nigel, pushing John's wheelchair, lead the communications class followed by
Mark across the narrow space between buildings. John had spent so much time
getting everything for the show just he wanted it, Security recognized him
and unlocked the gallery doors.

Surrounded by his art, the film finally slipped into perspective. This was
not happening now it was in the past. The movie had filled in the gaps
between his few memories. It was too much to process all at once. He had
just needed some time. Standing in the foyer of the gallery John slipped
into the presentation he had been rehearsing for the exhibit's opening.

"My name is Jonathan Litchfield. Though I am young; I am an artist. I
capture the world around me as images. Images that make my audience
feel. It might be to feel beauty or it might be to feel ugliness. The world
has plenty of both. Many see it as a visual medium only. To a good artist
and the right audience it can be emotional and even spiritual." John moved
to prints of the four seasons of baseball.

"Take the time to look at the main figure in the images, feel what he is
feeling." John paused. "Can you experience the sadness of a season over,
the resignation of waiting for spring to come, the anticipation, and the
exhilaration of the game?"

John stood between the next two images. The first was a man holding a woman
to his chest. Her long hair hung down her back. The second was the same man
holding another man to his chest. In both the man was looking down at his
beloved with the same expression of care and concern.

"We live in a community that prides itself on the Christ like principles of
loving our fellow man. In our childhood - we learn of the Good Samaritan;
of Christ and Mary Magdalene; and of Christ's love for his fellow man. We
are taught that Christ brought a higher law- the law where we do the right
thing because of our love `for' God, rather than the fear `of' God. It is a
way of life that includes love for our neighbor and fellow human beings for
they are also Children of a loving and caring God."

"This is the law that Moses first brought down the mountain only to find
his people not yet ready for living a Spiritual Law, the law of doing what
is right because of our love of God and our fellow man."

"Moses returned with the law of the Ten Commandments, where every little
thing had been spelled out. Today we pick and choose among those laws;
which are valid and which are not? How many of you eat pork. We also choose
Mosaic laws to justify hating our fellow man rather than loving our
neighbor."

John pointed to the two images. "Two examples of dedication and love; yet
one is acceptable while the other is not because it is different. They have
picked though the old Mosaic laws to find a reason to hate someone that is
different."

John stood near the next images. The first featured a tire iron in a pool
of blood. The bloody body in the background had obviously been the target
of someone's rage. The next was a toned down image of Marcus tied to the
tree in the forest. The third was painted from the photo of John in the
dumpster. Next to each image was a framed copy of the news article relating
to the artwork.

"The phrase we love the person but hate the action is used to the point of
being meaningless. Do these look like someone loved the victim but not the
choices? God works on the principle of choice. None of these victims had
broken the law of the land or the courts would have punished them. Their
judgement should have been in the hands of their God not vigilantes."

Many in John's audience were visibly disturbed.

"Things like that don't really happen!" One of the girls exclaimed. "My
parents say these types of stories are faked to lead us into accepting
sin."

"The college student in the middle was a friend of my father's in
college. A group of football players used him for their sexual
gratification and then realizing Marcus could ruin their lives, they
silenced him. They didn't just kill him they slit him open, pulled his
living entrails from his body and left him still alive for the wildlife to
finish the job."

More than just the girls were looking a bit green. John made reference to
the body in the dumpster.

"This image I can personally verify as real. That is me in the
dumpster. Three high school seniors jumped me based solely on rumors. That
is why I still wear a brace and have difficulty going out at night." John
pulled his t-shirt up exposing the still half healed scars from the
attack. Many of the students looked, unable to turn away. Others quickly
shifted their gaze anywhere but at John.

"These are just some examples of the many killed or beaten each year for
being different. They might be a different color, different religion, or
love someone of the same gender."

John stood in the entry to the main gallery.

"In February, someone was sure I was a homosexual; not because of my
actions but because I chose gymnastics and art over football and
baseball. To save my soul I was placed into the hands of those promising to
CURE me."

John stepped into the dimly lit exhibit space and waited in a single pool
of light for his audience to follow.

"I and three others were tortured and raped all in the name of a God that
preaches love thy fellow man. I hope when they arrive before the Seat of
Justice they are given a taste of the Hell they put four of God's beloved
children through."

John slipped behind one of the displays flipping the switch leaving his
audience to examine the thirteen images and feel the despair, horror and
anguish.

Some were sick; others cried. Mark did both. They had seen the movie. In
the film things happened and moved on. The focus was on the total
weekend. The viewer felt relief because each scene was short.

In these static images there was no relief. Each individual horror had to
be processed.

When the time for the end of the class arrived the teacher broke the
atmosphere of shared grief.

"This is what we have been talking about. The purpose of communication is
to share ideas. It is also to share emotions. I want each of you write
about how the film and John's work impacted you personally and why.

John was waiting at the entrance. Many of the students couldn't look him in
the eye. Some murmured "I'm so sorry," or something similar as they
left. As the room emptied Nigel was down next to his kneeling coach. His
arm around the shoulders of this man he respected.

"You do know John loves you. He has never said why he doesn't live at home,
but he talks about things you did together all the time." Nigel reassured
Mark.

Mark was beyond words.


"Who designed the presentation?" The teacher asked John.

"They wanted just the images. I wrote the script and insisted on the
presentation in the foyer." John pushed a button near the first images and
from a speaker overhead John's voice was heard. "It has something to do
with closed loop tapes. It plays once and then waits for the button to be
pushed again."

"I think we can call this your finals presentation. I would like to bring
my other sections to see it." They discussed scheduling. The teacher wanted
John to do the presentation at least three more times.

When John's instructor finally left John found he was alone. The last two
hours had been very stressful for John. Now there was nothing to
concentrate on, he was paying the price. He felt light-headed and was
having trouble standing up. John looked for the wheelchair or his
walker. As much as he dislike having to depend on them he understood their
necessity. The wheelchair was gone and he hoped his walker was back in the
classroom. He sat on a bench, closed his eyes and leaned back against the
wall. Maybe someone would come looking for him.

John opened his eyes somewhat disoriented. He looked around the room
recognizing where he was and pondered the morning's events. He checked his
watch and realized, he had not only missed his therapy but was late for his
art studio time.

John took a moment and planned the shortest path between him and his
walker. He stood at the steps from the doorway to the sidewalk. With one
hand firmly on the rail he stepped down with his bad leg and then moved the
good one next to it, five more to go. John repeated the process in reverse
entering the building where his communication class was held.

Most classes were held in the morning. One-thirty was considered a late
class. It was now three and the building was deserted. His walker wasn't in
the classroom. The offices were all on the the second floor. The elevator
was broken as was often the case. John counted the twenty slick marble
steps up to the next floor and knew he wouldn't be able to make it.

The student union wasn't that far away. There was a phone there he could
use. John wasn't quite sure whom he would call. He was leaning toward
Duane, after all he had the afternoon shift.

John looked down the four steps to the sidewalk. John moved the braced leg
to the next step. He went to move his good leg next to it and felt the
braced leg buckle. He had just let go of the railing. John immediately knew
he was going to fall. It was only three steps. He should be fine. John's
head hit the railing hard. The impact hurt and then nothing.

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