The Land of the Fathers
The Wise One woke early in the morning to the melody of singing birds accompanied by the steady rhythm of the dancing stream. He shivered. There was a chill in the air that had not been there a week earlier. It was clearly time to move south. Even now, some of the green leaves on the trees were turning gold and red, and soon there would be an éclat of brilliantly hued autumn foliage. He and his family must travel south to the warm winter lands before the first snow fell.
The man looked down at his wife, lying peacefully beside him on the bearskin blanket. Despite the recent appearance of silver strands in her hair, she was still a beautiful, youthful-looking woman, and he loved her dearly.
"Wake up, Gentle One," he whispered tenderly.
"Why?" she asked with a yawn. "Have I slept late?"
"No. The rising sun is still lingering below the trees."
"Why can't I stay where I am then? I'm getting old," she laughed playfully, "and I need my rest."
"There is much to be done today," her husband declared with a heavy sigh.
Gentle One immediately knew what that meant. She had, after all, been the wife of the Wise One for many cycles of the seasons, during which time she had borne him two sons and one daughter. They had now reached a stage in their long relationship where spoken words were not always necessary.
As was the custom of the People, the sons and their wives lived and traveled with the Wise One and Gentle One, but their daughter was now part of her husband's family and would remain with them for the rest of her days. When the Wise One passed on, his sons would go their own way, each becoming the head of his own family. Gentle One, should she outlive her husband, would choose with which of her sons she would live—usually the one who was the better hunter.
Hopefully, that day would not come soon. The Wise One was a relatively young man with only a sprinkling of silver strands in his hair. He was still physically strong and was able to provide food and protection for his family. Gentle One most likely had many seasons ahead of her, too. Had she wanted to, she could probably still give her husband sons, but the People knew that having too many children was foolish and dangerous given the uncertainty of the food supply.
Gentle One rose and after an affectionate kiss from the Wise One began preparing food for her family. Her two sons and their wives would be waking soon, and they would need to eat a good meal, for there was much work to be done. As Gentle One started a cooking fire, Laughing One, her elder son's wife, woke.
"We will be making ready for the move south today," Gentle One told her.
"The Boy will be happy," her daughter-in-law replied, smiling with maternal pride at her sleeping child. "He has been looking forward to seeing the Great Water again."
"It must be nice to be so young and look on the bright side of everything," Gentle One said wistfully. "As for me, I would prefer to remain in one place rather than to have to move with the changing of the seasons."
"And where would you live?" Laughing One asked. "Here in the north where the snows come during the winter or in the south where the sun burns your skin during the summer?"
"I have heard stories that many seasons ago the People lived in shelters that kept them warm in the winter and cool in the summer."
The Wise One having overheard the conversation looked at his wife with displeasure.
"It is not good to listen to such foolish stories," he announced.
"Forgive me," she said obediently and returned to her cooking.
The Wise One smiled at her with tenderness and love.
"Our fathers' fathers had many ways that we would no doubt find pleasurable. But we mustn't forget that with those pleasures there came much pain. A good deal more pain than you feel in your legs from the long walk each season."
"I know, my husband," Gentle One said. "Don't pay any mind to my complaints. Come, the morning meal is almost done. Laughing One, it is time to wake up the others now."
After they had eaten, the seven members of the Wise One's family carefully packed their belongings in preparation for their long journey: pottery cookware and wooden utensils, animal skin clothing and blankets, knives, bows, arrows, and Gentle One's natural remedies used to combat pain and illness. Then all seven slung their packs over their shoulders and set out on the long walk south.
"Grandfather, why do we travel through the tall mountains?" the Boy inquired after they had been walking steadily for several hours. "Wouldn't it be easier for us to walk in the valley below where the land is flat?"
The Wise One smiled patiently. He was prepared for the Boy's questions. His own two sons had become curious about the ways of the People at roughly the same age.
"Although walking on the flat land would be less tiring, it is safer to travel the mountain paths. The valleys lead to the land of our fathers' fathers, where there is much danger."
"I don't understand. What is so dangerous about the land?"
"Most of our fathers' fathers were killed there. Only those few who fled into the mountains were saved."
"Why did they die? What killed them?" the curious child asked.
"I'm afraid that is knowledge that only the Wise Ones may possess," his grandfather replied sagely. "When you are older and head of your own family, you will be taught the ways and the history of the People."
They continued walking. When the sun loomed directly overhead, they rested, and the women began gathering fruit and nuts to sustain them until they stopped for the night. After the much-needed break, the Wise One and his family gathered their packs and continued their journey until the sun started to dip below the western horizon.
Although Gentle One was exhausted from the long walk, she began building a fire to prepare the meat that her sons would bring back. Meanwhile, her two daughters-in-law gathered more fruits, nuts and fresh water. The family would eat half of what they prepared and save the rest for the morning.
The next several days followed the same pattern. Then one day they walked through an area of the woods that had been destroyed by fire. The Boy was fascinated by the bleak landscape.
"Grandfather, the trees are black, and they lost their leaves."
"Yes, Boy. Most likely one of the trees was struck by lightning. From the one, the fire spreads to kill many."
As the Wise One's family walked through the charred section of forest, they had an unobstructed view of the valley below. This was most unusual, for under normal circumstances, the paths the Wise Ones chose were deep in the woods, and the views of the valleys were obscured by tall, leafy trees.
"Look, Grandfather!" the Boy cried suddenly. "I can see the Great Water far in the distance. Why don't we travel east and cross the valley? It will save us time."
The Wise One shook his head in a negative response.
"It is too soon. The winter lands are much farther south."
"Does the Great Water reach this far?"
The Wise One nodded.
"Yes, son of my son. It stretches north far beyond the summer lands and south beyond the winter lands. That is why it is called the Great Water."
"Then why don't we walk beside the Great Water on our journey from the summer lands to the winter lands? Then we can have fish and plants from the sea to eat."
"Because there are many lands along the Great Water that are even more dangerous than those in the valleys."
"I do not understand this talk of dangerous lands, Grandfather. We live beside the Great Water every winter, and it has never been a danger to us."
The Wise One's two sons were closely following the conversation. They, too, were curious since they had yet to be taught the ways and history of the People since they still lived and traveled as part of the Wise One's family.
"You cannot comprehend the danger of such places yet. When you have been taught our history, you will understand."
The Boy sulked with resentment. He did not know why he could not be told the truth now, why he must wait until he was old like his grandfather. Rather than becoming angry with the Boy's sullenness, the Wise One welcomed his grandson's silence. The Boy refused to talk to anyone for the rest of the day. Even when the family stopped at sunset, he ate his evening meal without a word or question and then promptly went to sleep. He maintained his brooding silence throughout the following morning and midday, but late in the afternoon, he spied something that stirred his curiosity again.
"Grandfather," he cried with excitement. "There is a black river winding through the valley toward the east. Why is the water black? Did it burn like the trees in the woods?"
Grandfather looked where the Boy pointed. He would be glad when they again could travel through the heavy woods and the Boy would not be distracted by things left over from the time of the fathers' fathers.
"That is not a river made of water."
"What is it made of then?"
"It is a hard surface, like stone. Our fathers' fathers marked their paths with such material."
"Then that black river must lead to the Great Water," the Boy reasoned.
"Boy," the Wise One strongly cautioned. "It is best you keep your eyes on the path ahead of us and forget about what is beyond the mountains and the woods."
The Boy's father and uncle learned many seasons ago not to disobey or question the Wise One's counsel, but the Boy had ideas of his own. He wanted to know what was in the valley. He wanted to travel the black paths of the fathers' fathers all the way to the Great Water, and he didn't want to wait until he was old enough to lead his own family.
* * *
The following morning the Wise One and Gentle One once again woke while the sun was still lingering below the eastern horizon. The two of them talked softly as Gentle One began preparing the morning meal.
Suddenly Laughing One screamed, "Oh, Wise One! The Boy is gone!"
At the sound of her cries, the others in the family woke. Her husband, the Fair One, jumped up and grabbed his weapons.
"I will go look for him," the child's father volunteered.
"No," the Wise One ordered. "I am the head of this family. I will find him."
"I will go with you," Fair One announced. "The Boy is my son."
"As you are my son," his father argued, "and I tell you to stay here. I will search for the Boy. If for some reason I do not return, you will lead the family to the winter lands."
After a quick meal to give him strength, the Wise One was ready to go. He had a good idea of where he would find the Boy. He ran down toward the black river and headed east. The Wise One walked for several hours before he saw signs of danger. At first, the relics from the time of his fathers' fathers were scattered and few. But the farther east he walked, the more wreckage he found. He knew that near the edge of the Great Water, the remains would be extensive. The Wise One hoped that the Boy would stop to examine these relics from a time long gone and, in doing so, slow his progress.
As the sun passed overhead and continued its journey toward the west, the Wise One quickened his pace. Just before the sun went down, he spotted a lone figure walking along the road. Not much farther ahead were the remains of a once great city.
"Boy," the Wise One called.
His grandson stopped and turned. It would be futile to try to escape, so he slowly walked back toward his grandfather.
"You have frightened your mother and father," the Wise One declared sternly.
"I am sorry. I did not mean to."
"Have you found what you were seeking?"
"I have seen many strange and wondrous things along this black river of stone. But I will not ask you what they are, for I know you will tell me I must wait until I am old to learn such things."
The Wise One looked off toward the eastern horizon, deep in thought.
"Come," he said, leading his grandson toward the deserted city.
"But ...."
The Boy was at a loss for words.
"You have a strong hunger for knowledge, little one. I fear that if you do not satisfy that hunger, it might consume you. Therefore, I will show you what you want to see, and I will tell you what you long to know. You must promise me, though, that you will not tell anyone else, for it is knowledge meant only for the Wise Ones."
As the two walked east through the growing darkness, the Wise One revealed the history of the People to his grandson.
"Our fathers' fathers came from a green island far across the Great Water. Long ago they traveled west in great boats and settled in this land. They lived in colonies—groups of different families, all living together. More and more people came to the colonies and huddled together into small areas that were called cities. Still more people came, and some families traveled north, south and west, creating more cities. They built tall structures and lived inside them. Then people from other lands came to these shores. These people looked different, spoke other languages and had different ways. Eventually, fighting broke out in the cities."
"Why did the people fight?" the Boy asked.
"They fought over many things including the land itself. Yet despite the unrest, our fathers' fathers prospered and gained much knowledge, more than the wisest of the Wise Ones. They built machines that traveled great distances on land or water in small amounts of time. They even built machines that let them fly in the air like birds."
The Boy's mouth hung open in astonishment.
"But they also built weapons, not knives or bows and arrows but mighty weapons that could kill vast numbers of people."
"They hunted and ate other people?"
"No. They killed them not for food, but simply to be rid of them. Finally, they used their great weapons to destroy whole cities. Our fathers' fathers saw the destruction coming and took refuge deep in the wooded mountains. They survived the Time of Great Devastation, but the people who stayed in the cities died. When the cities fell silent, the Council of Wise Ones was formed. It made laws that were to be passed on from father to son. The first of these laws was that each family would live on its own, apart from the others to avoid conflicts with their neighbors. The second law decreed that people would not be allowed to own more than what they could carry in their packs."
"Why is that?"
"The Wise Ones believed that the more a man owned, the more he wanted, and the more he wanted, the more dangerous he became."
The Boy slowly nodded his head, beginning to comprehend the wisdom of the Wise Ones.
"Lastly," his grandfather continued, "it was decided that the vast knowledge of our fathers' fathers would be buried with them. There would be no more great cities, no tall buildings and no machines that traveled on the land, on the water or in the air. The Wise Ones, you see, did not want their sons to make the same mistakes that their fathers' fathers had made. They decided that only the eldest in each family would be told the history of 'We, the People' and given the responsibility of protecting the women and the younger ones in his care."
As the Wise One continued his history of the diaspora of the people of a once great nation, the Boy became tired. He had been walking for almost one full cycle of the sun. Shortly before daybreak, the Wise One suggested they stop to rest. The Boy fell asleep at once. When he woke, the sun was high in the sky. In its bright light, the Boy could see what was left of the great city. Jagged structures of steel and concrete jutted out from the land at various angles to the horizon. Of course, the Boy had no idea what steel and concrete were. To him, they were only some nameless materials.
Beyond the twisted wreckage of skyscrapers, bridges and infrastructure, the Boy could see the glistening Atlantic Ocean—what the People now called the Great Water.
"Is that the same Great Water that lies near the winter lands?" he asked.
"Yes, it is. There were many such cities as this built along its shores."
The Boy had always loved the Great Water with its sandy beaches and its noisy sea birds. He loved to swim in its gentle waves and catch and eat fish and animals in shells. But here the Great Water did not look so inviting. Here there were no beaches, for the twisted ruins extended out into the water itself.
"I do not like the city," the Boy announced. "It does not look much different from the burned and blackened woods we passed through on the mountain trail."
"No, it doesn't," the Wise One agreed. "I guess that's because in one way they are the same. Both of them are dead and unable to support life."
"Oh, Great One," the Boy said, addressing his grandfather with the highest term of respect known to the People. "Can we go back to the mountain path now? I want to go to the winter lands and play in the Great Water that lies there."
The Wise One tousled his grandson's pale blond hair and looked into his blue eyes.
"Come then," he said. "The others are probably worried about us."
The Wise One and the Boy turned and started walking back along the abandoned interstate highway toward the welcoming mountains, toward their family and toward the ways of the Wise Ones, leaving behind them miles of wreckage, acres of ruin and scattered bones of millions of long-dead Americans—all that remained of the once-great city of the land of the fathers' fathers.
Here is a picture of Salem's father's father, "Dances in Wools."
