Barbarians by kevin richard white

When I think of history, I can’t help but think of death and men and the reasons they had for it.

I bring this up only because I’m watching Lionel mow the grass in a sloppy way. His mustard-stained tank top and oversized Bruins trucker hat complete the rest of his slouch and paunch. It’s fair to say that he did not have any of these things when we were younger, and I’m not entirely sure how he got them. I’m afraid I allowed it to happen. When days go by as predictable as they do.

I’m reading a book about Alaric and the Visigoths. How armed with seaxes they overtook whatever land they could by nefarious means. I’ve seen Lionel with one of those plug in turkey-carvers from Walmart. It is not the same. I lay in bed and think of the cloaks, the stench of blood and armor. I know it was a different life than mine. They did not have hot water on demand and grocery delivery. But they fought for what they believed in and it occurred to me too late that I don’t know what Lionel believes in. He might say God, but that’s because he has to—he’s on the school board here for our county. Five years now.

I stood in the foyer, sipping my protein drink. He must have hit a root because the mower stopped. He gets off, grimaces, does one of those limp steps, and steadies himself on the seat and then not very gracefully lowers himself to the ground so he can assess the motor. Evidently, Alaric had said, during the Siege of Rome, “the thicker the hay, the easier it is mowed.” He would have let it grow. Lionel was too antsy. 

I see his phone over on the coffee table. He has a simple password. I decided to go through some of his Facebook posts. Safe, as you can figure: racing, weird little ditties about God, pictures from fellow school board members, a comment on a Bruins fan page about high-sticking. 

What would the Visigoths have done about the home owners association grass cutting rules? Would he be showing the head of the president off to the rest of his contingent, proud and oil-chested? Might there have been some shred of Rome in his pocket that he could use as collateral to take over another neighboring domain?

Outside, Lionel said, “Shit.”

History has shown, at least to me in my education, that it favors the barbarians. When we want to make a comparison to make people afraid, reference and say words like “sieges, invasions, takeovers” and we equate it all along with fire and pestilence and warfare. Grown men-monsters with raging boners, trodding shieldless in the gray landscape and cold rain, towards a purpose. I am wondering what our purpose is. So that the home owner’s association and their properties have shorter grass? So the school board blocks any funding for the arts? Changes need to happen. I don’t care much for which direction. But upending established poles makes way for sturdier fences. Ask any creature that has busted out of a pen —- he’ll thank the Creator for allowing him to do so. 

Outside, Lionel said, “Ugh.”

I took his phone and went to his Facebook profile. Figured out how to go to the “What’s on your mind?” section.

So I decided to let Lionel loose truly about what was on his mind. I used words I don’t like and I attacked some people I have no problem with personally. But I wrote something that maybe would start a little bit of a siege or battle. I made sure to use words that cancel culture people tend to go after. And man, it was strong. People will take notice. 

After the post, I stood by the window and watched him struggle with the mower more. He took off his hat and the combover was prevalent. Look, I love him. I do. But he is not a warrior. I’m not saying he has to slaughter people. I’m just saying he has to find his mantle and stand up for something. If people are going to claim to be soldiers of God, then at least wear the attire.

I heard the notifications sing. I heard him curse outside. I thought of blood stained land and then I saw the first cardinal of the season land right there on the feeder stand. I went out to the porch with my book on the Visigoths and asked him if he needed any help.

Kevin Richard White lives in Philadelphia. He runs Citywide Lunch.