Chapter 26

Back in the bar that evening, Celia and Harold occupied a booth

  since playing piano a midst this incredible tide of current events

  became impossible. Philly turned the ball game up.

     “This shit is not going down Harold. By divine guidance or

   accident or who the fuck knows what, I have lived a day in

   paradise or as close as I will ever get and I may not reside there 

   but I'd rather be skinned alive than allow my Mother and her

   infected minions to corrupt that place to extinction. I didn't ask 

   for this but now it is mine. Spent my whole life play acting. Make

   believing. Now its real. Shit's real and I'm pissed Harold. I will 

   become Bodica.” Celia slammed her mug down secure in the

   knowledge it was empty.

      “Rome defeated Bodica sweetie. Defeated the whole uprising.

   Ugly biz really.”, Harold informed.

      “You sure?”

      “You betcha.”

       “Well the hell with it. I'll become someone who didn't get

   defeated. Who didn't get defeated?”

      “Francis Marion.”

       “Who's she?”


        “Okay, he, who's he?.”

         “American Revolution in the south. The Swamp Fox. Made 

   the Red Coats crazy so they could not concentrate all their forces

   to the northern end of the war. Brilliant guerrilla fighter.”

      “Okay then, I'll become Franklin Marion. Fine.”

       They had another round which Celia did not really need. In the

   morning, she was back on the crop duster to Ardensville.

  "Fourscore and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent a new nation, conceived in liberty and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal. Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battlefield of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field as a final resting-place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this. But, in a larger sense, we cannot dedicate — we cannot consecrate — we cannot hallow — this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us — that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion — that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain — that this nation shall have a new birth of freedom and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth."