Jude wept

betray(v.)

early 13c., bitraien, "prove false, violate by unfaithfulness;" c. 1300, "deliver or expose to the power of an enemy by treachery," also "mislead, deceive, delude," from be- + obsolete Middle English tray, from Old French traine "betrayal, deception, deceit," from trair (Modern French trahir) "betray, deceive," from Latin tradere "hand over," from trans "across" (see trans-) + dare "to give" (reconstructed to be from PIE root *dhe- "to set, put").

It is attested from 1580s as "unintentionally show a true character;" by 1690s as "indicate what is not obvious;" from 1735 as "reveal or disclose in violation of confidence." In Middle English it sometimes was also bitraish, betrash, from the French present-participle stem. Related: Betrayed; betraying.

https://www.etymonline.com/word/betray

Sometimes it’s helpful to know where a word or a concept comes from, so I looked up the origins of the verb “to betray.” Maybe it isn’t all that helpful in this case, but it was still interesting to me because I wanted to describe a betrayal and resistance to it. I can’t help looking at the word ‘betrash’ and it’s obvious why. Now for the story.

We had come together to create a place where we could all live in peace. Call us children of the sixties if you like, but you can’t laugh at our goal. Peace is a good thing, is it not? We thought so then and we still think so. Rather than describe all the things we accomplished, however, I want to explain what happened when we had to defend ourselves. The sixties had a lot of good things.

We had elected a small group from our ranks to govern us or rather to guide us. That’s what a lot of people do, so we did it too. All we wanted to do was live our lives, as they say. A noble goal. The elected persons weren’t a large group - somewhere around twenty, a few more, a few less. We gave them the power they needed to do a good job. Then we began to see changes we hadn’t anticipated…

First, our elected officials eliminated the farmer’s markets because, they said, their produce was too expensive and they were ripping us off. We were quite sad, since our local vendors were the first in the state and maybe in the country. We weren’t sure how those farmers survived, and probably most of them didn’t, but we had no choice. At least there were organic options at the grocery stores. We also began planting our own gardens and were enjoying our own lettuce, kale, tomatoes, and basil. There were never problems with contaminated food, irrigated with sewage water.

We never expected our elected officials would show up at our gardens and pour cement over them. It was a big shock. They suggested we put little round tables made out of metal and sun umbrellas in those spaces. We could drink sangría and eat tapas there for two months out of the year, they said. Quite the appealing suggestion.

Next we heard the local walk-in clinic was defunded due to a lack of revenue and we were directed to go to the nearest city with all the finest equipment and medical personnel. We needed cars to get there because the public transportation was also cut. We were told to carpool or take the one bus there at seven in the morning and the one back at six. There was one place for pickup and drop off. A lot of folks crossed their fingers that they wouldn’t have to see a doctor ever again. Telehealth appointments were an option for those who still had internet, the price of which had tripled. We were encouraged to buy stock in communications providers.

Not too long afterward fuel costs doubled for reasons unknown but suspected, so many of us stopped turning on the heat and only used oil or gas when we showered. All dishes were washed in cold water. Showers were cold as well, not long afterward that. To help conserve electricity, we turned to candles and for a brief period we patted ourselves on the back for going off the grid, for being more like Abe Lincoln. If he could study by candlelight, so could we. Streetlights were limited to seven to nine in the evening, even when it got dark at four in the Northeast. It became easier to just stay home. We had television or radio for entertainment.

Three new factories were built along the river we loved and these factories manufactured things we never saw and couldn’t afford anyway. We couldn’t swim in the river any more, but they made a lot of money, which was good for them at least - and for their owners, who weren’t local. After that we were told through texts that our local mill, once used to produce textiles, but under our watch refurbished to hold art studios and local artisan shops, was going to be made into high rise, high rent living quarters because apparently some wealthy people were hankering for the view of our lovely river. The tenants would be there for two weeks in July.

The next thing we were told was that our much-used and much-loved library was going to be repurposed and expanded into the patrons’ parking lot. It would become a warehouse for some online company. Most of us used online ordering sparingly. Of course the warehouse needed to have at least five stories to make it big enough. We thought it would be eight stories in the end and we were right.

After that we got the news that Midland Bay - where there are mica chips among the rocks and horseshoe crabs go to breed - would be developed for jet ski enthusiasts. We didn’t even know what that was. Then the old military airport we had eliminated was going to be converted to an enormous golf course with all the trimmings. Private planes would be coming in again, a dozen flights a day, noisy and fuel-guzzling. We were becoming discouraged, because we had so little left. The organic farms we’d set up were ripped out, just like the fifteen walking trails we’d created. We barely drove anywhere and had no place left to walk. Our birds were abandoning us, too.

When we heard about the next three development projects, we were terrified and knew it was time to do something. Some talked about using weapons, but those were half-hearted remarks. We needed a different form of resistance before all our lights went out and the world around us dissolved. Somebody recalled devil’s breath, a horrible drug sometimes used on women, and we knew. We lined up three big white vans and moved them in front of the town hall, surreptitiously, so the officials wouldn’t notice. We set up an appointment, ostensibly to ask how we might better serve them, and blasted the meeting room full of the dust. The officials collapsed and we loaded all of them into the vans, knowing exactly how long the drug would last. We had skilled drivers who set out to transport the unconscious but not dead men out of our town. One van headed north to the St. Lawrence River in Canada, to Hochelaga.

Hochelaga is French, from Iroquois language, from either osekare, "beaver path" or "beaver dam", or osheaga, meaning "big rapids". It’s pretty far north. A straight line between between nearby Île aux Basques, Quebec (48.15° N, 69.23° W) and the southern tip of Greenland is approximately 2,050 kilometers. We had measured it. From 1584 until about 1637 the island had been occupied several times by Basques and their resilient spirit would take over for us once the officials were dropped off.

Another van headed directly to the Atlantic where there were ferries that also led to Greenland. The ferry captains didn’t want to charge us for transporting the drugged individuals. The third van was simply told to dispose of the former officials somewhere that would allow for deportation. They were all white but deportation was required, so… We suspect they were taken to the former base and a private plane took them to Greenland.

Why Greenland, you ask? Well, it was what they deserved. It was a place they would never manage to harm. Greenlanders are smart, compassionate, they wanted to help us.

I won’t go into how we clawed back everything we had lost, but you know we did. It wasn’t easy and didn’t happen overnight, but here we are and we are better than ever. We have our library, our health care, our art studios. We tore out the concrete on the green and planted pretty grass. We also went to all the paint stores and carefully removed all the gold and flag blue paint. Nobody here is interested in gold, and for blue we have our incredible sky, river, and ocean. The birds have returned. The former officials are probably weeping.

What more could we want?