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    Boston, April 15, 2013 Too painful to remember. Too important to forget.
    Boston, April 15, 2013 Too painful to remember. Too important to forget.
    Boston, April 15, 2013 Too painful to remember. Too important to forget.
    Ebook62 pages40 minutes

    Boston, April 15, 2013 Too painful to remember. Too important to forget.

    By Jeffrey Lant

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    The winds beat upon my windows.They had a message for me.They hissed, "You have been given the words. Now we insist that you use them. That is your burden.
    That is your glory. Now get on about your work, for the hour is late. The task is important and must be done without delay."
     
    "Each man's death diminishes me,
    For I am involved in mankind"
    ("For whom the bell tolls" by John Donne)
    The music that lightens your load, one tear at a time.

    I was just nine the year I saw my first photos of brave souls playing the ultimate game, betting they could toss a Molotov cocktail with such precision that they could
    dismember a tank before that tank could dismember them.

    The pictures of this murderous duel were blurred, grainy and distorted. But I knew that the great game for freedom was afoot and that somehow and certainly I was involved.

    I knew even then that the bell tolled for me and that I could not ignore it, though there was every temptation to do that. I had yielded to the blindness that is temptation, always transient and unfulfilling, whatever promises it may make.

    But the inexorable bell kept tolling and would not be denied...

    When it became known the Boston Marathon murderers were in my neighborhood, their next deadly objective
    not yet clear but sure, the police authorities protected us by dismantling our freedom. It was called "lock down", prison talk, no term of liberty.

    It may have been necessary, but it was also unsettling to those who have heard the eloquent and most persuasive arguments used for stripping us of liberty, once forfeit, never returned, soon
    yearned for, forever yearned for, without success or method of restoral or redemption.

    The voice I heard was stern, authoritative and brooked no argument. "Citizens, stay in your homes. Stay away from all windows. Do not attempt to come out until further instructions are given." Could they possibly mean me, too, author, commentator, unprejudiced fly on the wall, the man making clear for tomorrow what was happening today?"

    Then in the most chilling voice ringing out with these words,"Dr. Lant, this means you." Why was I was specifically
    ordered?

    Two days later I tried again and what a jolting shock to see a tank nestled in the grass outside my residence.... surrounded by the greatest university on Earth
    and its proud symbols and sun-kissed insignia, as well as by the temples filled with people who wondered, who begged for the sign which was not given.

    I saw the tank, and I saw, in my mind's eye, the freedom fighters of Hungary give everything for a single shot at the machines which shattered everything, leaving a proud and ancient nation in
    devastation and lamentation.

    And I cried out, sobbing for what we had already lost and the more we would be sure to lose, in the grim and pitiless
    days to come....
    Why did God leave us so, head bowed, knees in the mud, rancor and acrid bitterness in our soul? Why?

    My recollection of those somber days when life and its paths were altered forever are fading now. I feel a terrible and pressing responsibility to the truth which must not be allowed to expire.

    We all have became more mistrusting and wary with similar incidents occurring worldwide.

    The rain has washed, the snow has covered, the heat has baked, a million steps have ground all evidence; into the good earth which has dealt with so many outrages before and will do so again.

    Maybe this is God's way after all, submission and resignation being
    His tools, though so difficult to make ours. You must judge for yourself
    as you review the pages that follow, remembering "No man is an island."
     

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherJeffrey Lant
    Release dateAug 13, 2016
    ISBN9781533769800
    Boston, April 15, 2013 Too painful to remember. Too important to forget.
    Author

    Jeffrey Lant

    Dr. Jeffrey Lant is known worldwide. He started in the media business when he was 5 years old, a Kindergartner in Downers Grove, Illinois, publishing his first newspaper article. Since then Dr. Lant has earned four university degrees, including the PhD from Harvard. He has taught at over 40 colleges and universities and is quite possibly the first to offer satellite courses. He has written over 50 books, thousands of articles and been a welcome guest on hundreds of radio and television programs. He has founded several successful corporations and businesses including his latest at …writerssecrets.com His memoirs “A Connoisseur’s Journey” has garnered nine literary prizes that ensure its classic status. Its subtitle is “Being the artful memoirs of a man of wit, discernment, pluck, and joy.” A good read by this man of so many letters. Such a man can offer you thousands of insights into the business of becoming a successful writer. Be sure to sign up now at www.writerssecrets.co

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      Book preview

      Boston, April 15, 2013 Too painful to remember. Too important to forget. - Jeffrey Lant

      Preface

      The capricious winds and the sinuous trees they hold captive

      beat fiercely against the windows of my chamber this morning

      when the clock had not yet struck 5 and darkness still held

      adamant sway, swaggering as if for all the world they would keep

      us imprisoned forever.

      They had a message for me, and there was nothing that would

      keep them from delivering it. They hissed, "You have been given

      the words. Now we insist that you use them. That is your burden.

      That is your glory. Now get on about your work, for the hour is

      late. The task is important and must be done without delay or

      cavil."

      So did their instructions, their keening demands, come wrapped

      in these words of stark purpose, unanswerable, the clearest

      insight to be lost and forgotten at our peril.

      "Each man's death diminishes me,

      For I am involved in mankind"

      (For whom the bell tolls by John Donne (1572-1631)

      The music that lightens your load, one tear at a time.

      It is the score by Victor Young (1900 -1956) for the 1943 film

      For Whom The Bell Tolls. Find it now in any search engine

      and prepare to let it touch your vulnerable heart and

      all the love craft you know. Do not just hoard that trove

      of love. Use it. Love is in short supply and urgently required.

      Buda Pest, 1956.

      I was just nine the year I saw my first photos of brave

      souls playing the ultimate game, betting they could toss

      a Molotov cocktail with such lithe precision that they could

      dismember a tank before that tank could dismember them.

      The pictures of this murderous duel were blurred,

      grainy, often unclear, and distorted. But I knew that

      the great game for freedom was afoot and that

      somehow and certainly I was involved.

      I knew even then that the bell tolled for me and that I could

      not ignore it, though there was every temptation to do

      just that. Instead, I yielded to the blindness that is

      temptation, always transient and unfulfilling, whatever

      promises it may make.

      But the inexorable bell kept tolling and would

      not be denied...

      Tank on the front lawn.

      When it became known the Boston Marathon murderers

      were in my neighborhood, their next deadly objective

      not yet clear but sure, the police authorities protected us

      by dismantling our freedom. It was called lock down, prison

      talk, no term of liberty.

      It may have been necessary, but it was also unsettling to those

      who have heard the eloquent and most persuasive arguments

      used for stripping us of liberty, once forfeit, never returned, soon

      yearned for, forever yearned for, without success or method of

      restoral or redemption.

      The voice I heard was stern, authoritative and brooked no

      argument. "Citizens, stay in your homes. Stay away from

      all windows. Do not attempt to come out until further

      instructions are given." Could they possibly mean me, too,

      author, commentator, unprejudiced fly on the wall, the man

      making clear for tomorrow what was happening today?"

      Then in the most chilling voice, deep, resonant, unyielding, 

      ringing out with these words, Dr. Lant, this means you. 

      Yes, I was ordered by name. I pulled my hand from the door

      knob as if it was fiery hot and wondered why I was

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