Do you believe in rock and roll?
Can music save your mortal soul?
And can you teach me how to dance real slow?
–Don McLean
Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It’s been twenty-seven years since my last confession.
Sorry. It’s been twenty-seven years, six months, and nineteen days.
I know. I know. It’s been a while. What can I say? I was a kid. It just didn’t seem important. A lot of things didn’t seem important back then.
Let me see. Well, I’ve killed a man. Actually, I’ve killed an awful lot of men. And women. Some children. Mostly I didn’t know they were there when I did it. You’re out there, on the front lines, you can’t really see what’s happening, except that all your friends are dying, and something happens, something makes a noise, or you see something, you don’t…you don’t take the time to check what it is. Some of my friends used to be really careful about things like that. They’re all dead now.
You know, at the beginning, I thought I’d keep track. I had a record; notches on my Fender. Cliche, I know. I think there are about thirty-something on it. That was just the first year. It seemed so important. Now I can’t even tell them apart.
I remember the first one. That was way back in the day, back when there was still skirmishing going on in Oregon, of all place. We were all green, they sent us in to mop up, get us some combat experience. First run out we run into a patrol. They were almost out of supplies and getting that wild look on their faces but when they saw us they started firing. There was one kid in the front, a little blond guy with these big frightened blue eyes. He pointed his gun at me and I killed him. It was easy. It shouldn’t be so easy.
Sorry, Father. I don’t mean to waste your time. I mean, I’ve stolen a lot of things too. Looting, you know. And lied. Cheated. I don’t honor my father and mother as well as I could. It’s the killing that really sticks in my mind, though.
I’m sorry. I just saw…we’re going out again, next week, and I was walking home, and I just saw your church. And I thought…maybe I should make peace. Or try, at least. You never know.
I might be next.
