Charles Manson, My Grandma and the Good Book

My family would excommunicate me for saying this, but my grandma and Charles Manson both love the same Good Book.
    
    Charles Manson convinced a group of  hippies in the desert that the "Book of Revelations," along with the Beatles' "White Album" were transmitting a message to him that a revolution was coming. Manson called the revolution "Helter Skelter". "The blacks" were going to rise.
    Drugs were supposed to bring enlightenment and love. Murders were supposed to be a catalyst for the blacks. Prison time was required.
    But there was no Helter Skelter revolution. There is no connection between the Good Book and the Album. Manson is never going to be granted parole. His family still waits for Helter Skelter.

    Every summer was the same in my youth. And I loved it. Every morning I would rise from my dreamworld, dress myself in my official Ghostbusters jumpsuit, and jump into the front seat of Aunt Frankie's sky-blue Ford Tempo. I'd strap on my seat belt (the two piece kind), then lean over and plug hers in. We weren't going anywhere special, just to my grandparents' to play with the kids. My grandma Barb was a baby-sitter, while my grandpa Maurice worked in a factory.  She brought Jesus into our lives. Everyday.
    Bless us, oh Lord, and these gifts which we are about to receive.
    Lunch was the same everyday. At least, that's how I remember it. Tropical Punch Kool-Aid, Campbell's chicken noodle soup, Kraft grilled cheese, and a scoop or two of Schnuck's vanilla ice cream with Hershey’s chocolate syrup. We kids loved it. The Kool-Aid, the soup, the sandwich, the ice cream. Everything.
    After scarfing our food down, we would play. The younger kids would take an afternoon nap. Neither Tim, a boy my age, nor I napped. Instead, we would romp around the cemetery across the way from the house.
    There was this one spot on the far side of the cemetery where it looked like a HUGE chunk of the earth has been stolen, for no good reason. (I was told a meteorite hit there once long ago.) On the opposite was a paved path with a chain-link fence crossing it. There was a sign that said "Do Not Drive.” The driveway led to the white mansion on top of the hill, overlooking the murky lake to the side of the driveway, at the bottom of the hill. Ducks would wade close to the edge. We always brought crackers to throw to and at them. Sometimes, the ducks would fight. We loved watching ducks fight over crumbs of  saltines.
    Between the lake and the chunk of missing  earth there was a forest green bush sitting on bright kelly green grass next to a soft, white-and-gray stone buried in the ground. My grandparents’ tombstone. This is now, though, not then. And, my grandpa is the one who had died. The stone wasn't there when I fed the crackers to the ducks or found the chunk of earth that was missing. It was only a good spot to sit amongst the dead.
    Later, Aunt Frankie would called for me. And I would say “bye” to Tim, my Grandma Barb, and the kids. And Aunt Frankie and I drove home in the sky-blue Tempo.
    
    Once on a typical summer day my grandma was bringing Jesus into our lives, again, through the gospels of John and the Holy Psalms. I actually took notice, but my eyes centered on a magazine on the floor. It was one of the countless non-denominational Christian magazines that the mailman folded  and stuffed into the mailbox everyday. This particular edition informed me that someday, some person, some organization, some government was going to want to surgically  implant a microchip into my hand. Or, my head. (This is all according to the "Book of Revelations,"  of course.)
    This microchip will contain my medical history, my location(at all times), my blood type and count; and, maybe, even a strand of my DNA- all mapped out perfectly! Each microchip is, of course as the Good Book says, scannable by anyone with the correct clearance. Those with the correct clearance are the corporations, governments, the Powers That Be.
    "Here, scan my hand. Learn everything about me in an instant. Destroy my privacy. My selfhood." The perfect campaign slogan for any campaign.
    Since this is all according to Revelations, it must be true. We are just in the pre-Christ returning phase. The microchip, 666. The mark of the beast! This microchip, knower of all things, seals Your Doom. States had only minimal time to request an extension to the deadline for the Real ID Act. I may have been one of the only people who noticed the connection. I'm still watching, waiting and scared. The magazine told me about all this dark commerce on a typical summer day in my youth, while the kids were singing songs to bring Jesus into their lives.

    Charles Manson convinced a gaggle of hippies on a movie ranch in the desert of a revolution from the "White Album" and the Book of Revelations, gave them LSD and weed, and delivered his "family" into incarceration.

    My grandma Barb brought Jesus into my life every summer day in her living room, filled me with grilled cheese, and prophesied my reality with a green cemetery and black fears with a magazine. Who knows, maybe Helter Skelter is coming. (Just not yet?) Who knows, maybe the microchip is coming next. Who knows, maybe "revelations" speaks to everyone if they're listening. Charles Manson and my grandma apparently believed it, so it must be true.