心中有忐忑，归家也难安

By Aaron A.Vessup

The noises late one night were unusual. Either an intruder or wouldbe robber is pressing his luck1. Quietly slipping on my robe and shoes I creep to the front door and flip on the outside light.2 Before I can wrench the door open， outside a crashing sound of metal on pavement and feet running away are heard. Immediately I notice the two small， white， foot-high Christmas trees with automatic colorful lights are missing from my porch. Dark， vacant spots on the porch have replaced colorful blinking lights. My bike is also gone. I ease past parked cars lining the front sidewalk area. In the darkness， I see my Wal-Mart mountain bicycle now lying in the middle of the parking lot pavement. The rear wheel is still locked and chained. The thieves have vanished in thin air. This has been a close call3， but is a warning about life in the civilized Wild West. Many people are desperate and people are dying.

I am determined to slowly transition back into the “American Experience”4. My eyes are open wide despite the long， weary three-day cross-country train ride. Community realities witnessed in Philadelphia， Cleveland， Chicago， St. Louis， Kansas City， and Los Angeles are shocking.5 Each community reflects sharp contrasts and glaring6 gaps between the rich and poor. I am feeling like an alien in my own homeland. Long caravans of homeless people wander and shuffle about.7 Many wear unwashed military fatigues8 pushing their life belongings in stolen metal supermarket shopping carts. Sunburned， red-necks and dusty brown and black panhandlers are commonly seen working corners at busy traffic intersections.9 Overweight pedestrians of mixed ethnicities waddle10 on and off public buses. A few instigate unprovoked altercations with other passengers.11 Some folk spout loud monologues addressing the general public.12 These sights stoke13 my alarm and irritation.

一次遭受入室偷盜的经历，让作者开始反思当代社会潜藏的社会危机、矛盾以及每个个体面临的安全感缺失的问题。当我们的电视播放着并不“人道”的杀戮动物的节目时，当枪支广告充满着我们的生活时，当我们已经习以为常走在路上戴上耳机与他人冷漠相对时，当我们面对一个看似有威胁但实则脆弱的陌生人时，我们该如何反应？

Since returning from China， my “Couch Potato” activities finds me watching outdoor adventure TV shows. These programs highlight ideas regarding how to survive， and also methods of acquiring food while facing challenges of nature. Living in the woods， to “kill or be killed” is the undeniable bottom line. Using vicious Booby-Traps to kill： deep pits with sharp bamboo spikes； throwing metal tipped spears； or bludgeoning helpless animals with stones.14 All effective means to necessary ends. Many survivalists feel a particular killing approach is more civil and humane than another. Death inflicted quick or slow is still inevitable. In the end “civility”， no matter how characterized and defined， really does not matter.15 On one televised series， The Alaskans： Life Below Zero， a homesteader16 teaches her children to kill chickens for their dinner. Funneling this feathered bird upside down into a metal tube that narrows only wide enough for the birds head to protrude， death comes silently.17 The chicken head is quickly lopped off with the absence of flying feathers and wild squawking.18 The mother then tells her onlooking children， whose ages are around 5 and 6 year olds， “Now， this is the humane way to kill your food. The chicken will not needlessly suffer.”

Living in suburban Vegas is not visually like living in the barely civilized woods. Yet， surprisingly in only a few ways， Vegas represents opposing lifestyles to life in， say， Beijing， China. In the most USA cities， daily lifeending events seem to be common semi-tragic events. This particular callousness19 represents a major part of civilized American culture taken for granted by Americans. Money and Conveniences rule in both countries. In China， a preponderance of Dry Cleaners， Footbaths and KTV establishments in the East， contrasts to the plethora of gas stations and churches on virtually every street corner in the West.20 However， as I watch American television， one unforgettable experience in China comes to mind. Years ago， I had an opportunity to tour Shaoshan， the hometown of the late Chairman Mao. A restaurant owner offered to prepare our small group of VIPs a fresh chicken meal.

In Hunan we watched the Chef hypnotize a plump chicken by simply using one forefinger.21 While the bird was in a trance a knife blade was applied to smoothly slit the birds throat.22 The poor feathered creature slowly became lifeless as a wire thin trickle23 of fluid stopped dripping. The shiny red puddle of blood on the dusty ground seeped into the earth.24 The chicken had become weaker and weaker， its death came without alarm or surprise. Many will argue this is a more humane way to present death to any living being. Applicable to humans for a “civilized” philosophy for population control. The resulting chicken feast on that special day in China， however， was voted most delicious by everyone.

This talk about desperation， survival， and death， has much relevance to any society.25 Achieving harmony and advancing civilization through education， and applying the conveniences of technology， now forces me to focus on the essence of personal survival. In the U.S. it is impossible to dismiss the issue of personal security. In fact， as I write this， I have spent the past few hours in process of actually shopping to better “arm” myself. I am not sure whether my ultimate weapon will be a larger deadly blade， or a sexy state of the art firearm. Perhaps becoming a gun-owner. It is really scary here and increasingly impossible to ignore Gun Show TV adverts， billboards， and local firearms conventions.26

Today， Im at Wal-Mart searching for a whet stone to sharpen the blunt souvenir pocket knife purchased in Alaska last summer.27 In an aisle between hunting knives and guns， a Chinese husband and wife， quietly debate which particular leather holster28 would be best for their gun choice. I can only imagine their motivation and fears.

Later this day I wait in the afternoon at the bus stop. A Black man staggers toward me mumbling about evil people in the world.29 He walks unsteadily， a possible result from a long night of swilling30 drinks at a nearby gaming club. He is dressed in matching gold cloth， pin striped jacket and pants， a black fedora hat.31 This character resembles an old-time gambler from vintage32 movies. I slide my right hand with strained casualness toward the small hunting knife in my jacket.33 I am uneasy at his closeness， seeing his eyelids shutter uncontrollably. His narrow face hosts two bloodshot blinking eyes， pinched between deep facial lines.34 I shiver with discomfort trying to avoid making eye contact. Inadvertently35 I stare at the scar above the upper side of his mouth. This facial disfigurement36 forces the top lip to remain half-closed when he tries to smile. The result is a face with a half sneer37. A long， thick line of drooling spittle hanging from his mouth， swings away from his face when he cocks his head to one side.38 His words mix with slobbering39. Maybe the man is a drug addict prone to unpredictable behaviors. I did not want to seem anti-social， but he is clearly a person from whom I must keep my distance. He addresses me directly.

“Say！ Say， man. Is the hospital in that direction？”

The blinking man has moved closer to where I stand in the shade trying to shield myself from the hot sun. He jabs a boney finger on my forearm.40

“Man， my blood pressure is acting up. I tried to tell them this in the restaurant. But when I entered they grab me with a choke hold41 and drag me out of that place. I jes told ‘em I wanted to go to the baff-room （W.C.， or Toilet）， but this brother come running up to me. He a big Black security guard， and he say， ‘No！ Git out！ Jes like that， and he grab my neck， and two White guys in there help him drag me out. I jes let myself stay limp42 like a wet rag. Made ‘em work.”43

“Are you telling me that a brother did that to you？”

“Yep. You know how some people of us are...”

Suddenly Blinker shifts topic focus and talks about being raised in the South， Alabama.44 Things his grandmother told him to never forget. The high costs of survival. Suddenly， his monologue is interrupted when a plump， middle aged， white woman， wearing a sports blouse， colorful form fitting pants， and sneakers， runs up to him.45 Both of her arms are stiffly outstretched as she waves a few dollar bills. I ease further away to give them space for privacy. The woman is insisting on giving him folded currency. Initially， the man pretends to refuse her offering.