Hamlet (Act 1, Scene 3)

“To be or not to be, that is the question:”

ZERO HOUR or The Death of Democracy, taken at 12:05AM, Inauguration Day, January 20th, 2017.
PHOTO: Beth Ann Sadowski

Hamlet
(Act 1, Scene 3)
Playwright: William Shakespeare
(First Folio or F1 Version**)

To be, or not to be, that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them: to die, to sleep
No more; and by a sleep, to say we end
The heart-ache, and the thousand natural shocks
That Flesh is heir to? 'Tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wished. To die, to sleep,
To sleep, perchance to Dream; aye, there's the rub,
For in that sleep of death, what dreams may come,
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause. There's the respect
That makes Calamity of so long life:
For who would bear the Whips and Scorns of time,
The Oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely, [F: poore]
The pangs of despised Love, the law’s delay, [F: dispriz’d]
The insolence of office, and the spurns
That patient merit of th'unworthy takes,
When he himself might his Quietus make
With a bare Bodkin? Who would Fardels bear, [F: these Fardels]
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscovered country, from whose bourn
No traveller returns, puzzles the will,
And makes us rather bear those ills we have,
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all,
And thus the native hue of Resolution
Is sicklied o'er, with the pale cast of Thought,
And enterprises of great pitch and moment, [F: pith]
With this regard their Currents turn awry, [F: away]
And lose the name of Action. Soft you now,
The fair Ophelia? Nymph, in thy Orisons
Be all my sins remember'd.

**This version preserves most of the First Folio text with updated spelling, punctuation, and five common emendations introduced from the Second ("Good") Quarto (italicized).

September 17th, 1862: The Battle of Antietam

Beth Of The Beltway’s
Song Recommendation For The People:
Ashokan Farwell
Artists: Jay Ungar & Molly Mason Family Band
Ashokan Farwell (Wikipedia)

The American Civil War (1861-1865) The Battle of Antietam, Sharpsburg, Maryland, September 17th, 1862.

This September 17th, 2024, marks the 162nd Anniversary of the single bloodiest day in all of American history.

The Union Army technically won the day, but a slow as molasses retreat was callously and foolishly allowed by Union General George B. McClellan. McClellan’s inability to seize the day and crush the Confederate Army at The Battle of Antietam ultimately caused three more years of horrendous war that tore apart our nation.

Our “perfect” Union.

In a twist of fate, and McClellan’s damned foolishness, instead of defeat and utter annihilation on September 17th or 18th, 1862, General Robert E. Lee and the rest of the Confederate Army were allowed to slip away, snaking down the Potomac River, slithering back to the safety of Virginia’s Shenandoah Valley to fight another day. Many, many more days. So much death. Destruction. Devastation.

Too much.

Lee and the Confederate Army limped, half-shoeless and shirtless along to Gettysburg, Pennsylvania in July 1863, The High Water Mark Of The American Civil War, and finally onto defeat and surrender in April 1865.

Union General Ulysses S. Grant accepted Confederate General Robert E. Lee and the Confederate Army’s total surrender and causeless concession of defeat on April 9th, 1865, at Appomattox Courthouse. The war did not “officially” end until May 26th, 1865.



In another strange twist of fate, three years later on September 17th, 1865, President Abraham Lincoln was already dead. He did not live long enough to see the end of the war or to make solemn remarks on the anniversary of the bloody savagery that occurred at The Battle of Antietam.

On both sides.

Remember, President Abraham Lincoln was not always a “progressive” politician. His debates with Stephen Douglass and his long meetings and conversations with Frederick Douglass later in life make him a more than fascinating figure. However, not in the founding of a nation, but in the unfathomable task of understanding and connecting The People.

I am certain it would have been an amazing speech, but we will never hear it. Perhaps, years from now, some young person will find disparate notes scribbled on a scrap of paper from The War Department, or in the dustjacket of a well-worn personal book, or…

Perhaps, President Lincoln was focused on the “here and now” and only wanted to go to the theatre that night to forget about war. Lose himself in a story. Laugh at the jokes. Marvel at the performances. He wanted to see characters, not be one.

Remember, President Lincoln drew from William Shakespeare’s many works.

Perhaps, he thought that evening, ”All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players.”

Perhaps, The President only wanted to experience a night out on the town. Normalcy. Calm. Feel the fun and frivolity of what life could be after all of the crushing chaos, the wanton war, and the seemingly never-ending nightmares of battlefield deaths. Let alone that slavery debacle and the Emancipation Proclamation and the still debatable, unstable idea that all men (HUMANS) are created equal and that ALL are Free in the United States Of America…


Remember, Dear Reader: A President is only a citizen voted to higher office by THE PEOPLE.

Long before he was a President of the United States, Abraham Lincoln was:

A man. A person. A human being.

Someone like you and me, Dear Reader.


Tragically, President Abraham Lincoln was assassinated by the coward and traitor, John Wilkes Booth, on April 14th, 1865, during a play called, Our American Cousin.

The President was assassinated as he sat enjoying that play, with his wife and friends, at Ford’s Theater in Washington, D.C.

The nation, still torn asunder, was further plunged into grief and sorrow for the grave loss of “Our American President” and for the gnawing, spiraling uncertainty and anxiety of the still unknown and ultimate fate of Our “more perfect Union…”

”And that government of The People, by The People, for The People, shall not perish from the earth.”

President Lincoln was fatally shot on April 14th, 1865, but he did not die that evening or night. Instead, he stubbornly, but bravely lingered on into the early morning hours of April 15th, 1865. President Abraham Lincoln went to his final rest in The Petersen House, across the street from Ford’s Theatre, at 7:22AM, April 15th, 1865.

I like to remember, on hard days, that the sun did not set on President Abraham Lincoln. President Lincoln did not die in darkness. He died with his Presidential Cabinet. Surrounded by his friends. His Team Of Rivals.

In the moments after he took his last breath, his friend, and the country’s Secretary of War, Edwin Stanton said:

“Now he belongs to the ages.”

President Lincoln, before he was POTUS, was a son, a father, a soldier, a lawyer, a statesman, and so much more; but, at one time, he was just Abraham Lincoln. As plain and simple and, hopefully, sensible as you, Dear Reader, or me.

I like to remember, on hard days, that the sun did not set on Mr. Lincoln. The sunrise on April 15th, 1865 was recorded at 5:30AM. President Abraham Lincoln passed on to another realm of consciousness, commending his soul to eternity at 7:22AM, April 15th, 1865.

April 15th.

What
We The People
Now know as:
Tax Day.”


What’s that idiom about “death” and “taxes," Benjamin Franklin?


Dear Reader:
The moral of today’s blog post:

ALWAYS
CARPE DIEM!
Seize the day!
ALWAYS
ALWAYS



BE BRAVE!
Go to the theatre!
Walk outside!
Open your eyes and see the magic in people and the world around you!


We must all try to:
SEIZE THE DAY!
Carpe diem!


The sun rises on September 18th, 2024 at 6:53AM.


Are you ready for another dawn?
Another day?
One Day More?


Remember, Dear Reader:
BE BRAVE!


The sun rises and sets every day, without fail.
The dawn of a new day will
ALWAYS break Itself.

ALWAYS
Try to do your best
AND NEVER
Allow the day to
BREAK YOU.

SEIZE THE DAY!
BE BRAVE!
BE YOU!

Beth’s Rule #1: CITE YOUR SOURCES.

Gregory Joseph O'Meara (1957-1981)

Gregory Joseph O'Meara, my biological father, died on August 21st, 1981.

I never knew him and know very little about him.

What I “know”: He was in the Air Force. He was liked by his friends and was described as, "The life of the party." In the few photographs I have/seen, his mouth is wide-open, head thrown back, in a laugh.

He was fit, had a winning smile, and very blonde hair.

He should be 67 years old this year (June 22nd, 1957 - today).

He died in a fatal car accident, 43 years ago today, at age 24 years, one month, 30 days old.

No matter who he was at 24 years old, I still wish he was here today.

Thank you for this life.


I will never forget you.