And Another Candle In the Winds Of Time

I have just finished a very valuable read.  Valuable, to all Americans - all of us Americans -  and to all the world's peoples, for that matter.

Entitled 'James Madison and the Making of America' (by Prof. Kevin R.C. Guzman; an example of impeccable scholarship and excellent story-telling), it is just that: A story of the birth of a nation, as experienced through the eyes, and feelings, and wisdom, of one of its major players.  Who finished off his dash through the pages of history, and his private life, in an unmarked grave (and "The site of his grave lies off the beaten path"); but whose memory was later honored - and dignified - by a simply adorned monument.  Reading thusly:

        Madison

Born: April 16-17 1751

Died: June 23 1836  

His final words - and insightful if unintended (or at least, not consciously intended) message to the living -

after being shaved that morning by the slave who - and not 'that'.  He was a firm believer in the slaves as persons first, not property; and fought for that principle in his life.  A man, after all, of his times and place; a step removed from the days of Greece and Rome - the slave who, then, had shaved him "every day for sixteen years," and having his breakfast brought to him by "the slave who had attended him for nearly seventy years" -

were to his niece, who upon asking him what was troubling him -

after a long lifetime of service to his fledgling country; first as a leading statesman of his day in his beloved Virginia, and then as governmental theoretician par excellence of the federal Constitution, and then as both Congressman and then President of the country that he was so centrally involved in creating, from his vast knowledge of history, and his personal inclinations -

heard him reply: "Nothing more than a change of mind, my dear."

And he was gone.  Poof.  Like that.

"As the niece recounted, 'his head instantly dropped, and he ceased breathing as quietly as the snuff of a candle goes out.'"


Like the snuff of a candle,
A life is brought to heal
After having given birth
To a dream
                     whereby
They didn't let the perfect
Be the master of the good
And taint its worth.

And what is to become of me?
I wonder, upon reflection
                                    on
                  a life
That ended simply remarked on:

              Madison

Born April 16-17 1751
 (having entered the world,
      ike me, at midnight)
Died June 23 1836*


And thus lies James Madison, first in his unmarked grave.  But not to worry, James.  (If I may call you that.  After all, we are sort of kin.  Having been midnight children, and all. And with a passion for good governance.)  Because part of that unfinished business of the nation that resulted in the Civil War just a short while after you departed the field of honor, and which is going on at this very day, as we humans reckon Time, is that your 'marker' could quite possibly be smashed - defaced, torn down, and broken into rubble, by the enemies of Liberty, alive in this day and age.  Attempting to enthrone the perfect over the good.

So you are well off, not being properly marked on, after all.

Except in memory, James.

Except in well-appreciative memory.

--

* As Prof. Gutzman comments, in conclusion to his masterful work:

"That is all.

"Soft-spoken in life, Madison remained unassuming in death.

"His legacy must speak for itself."

And it does.  Oh, how it does.

Loud, and clear.

To some.

And to others: Loud and clear in a different way.

Read on, dear Reader.  This man's story is not over, yet.