Condition Other Than Normal: Finding Peace In a World Gone Mad. Gary Tetterington
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some extreme damage. Something stopped me. A higher power? As I say, I kept walkin’.
Can any one of you praiseworthy and passionate people understand of how I really did feel a sense of purpose that night in Y.K., in ’76? Can you understand further, of how I was doing the right thing? That, at the time, expression of some sort was necessary and correct? And that I’m not trying to justify?
I’m not talking right or wrong. There were no lofty principles or high ideals involved. No. I had been motivated by cheap and simple anger and resentment and driven by a reckless need for vengeance, for so many frustrations and annoyances which had plagued me for so many years. In ’76, way up north, they had all come together and peaked and Giant Y.K. Mine was a convenient recipient, to vent and unleash my madness upon, to pay for a lifetime of magnificent failure.
I know I wasn’t completely off my rocker because, although the tears and laughter were real and maybe signs of an unbalanced mind, I knew and was absolutely and unequivocally certain, I could not possibly have hurt anyone by eliminating A – Shaft from the face of this stout and sturdy planet. Not at 2 A.M. A – Shaft was a one-shift shaft, 8AM – 5PM. Hell, breaking rock is one thing, mass murder quite another, thank – you very much.
The sky was ablaze with lights and flames and beneath it a man could do no wrong and it may have been an intelligent conception, as to why the barred doors to the A – Shaft head frame weren’t secured but that 5 lb. ‘Master’ padlock was sprung and I was inside and at that point I knew I had solemn backing.
Today I know and can say truthfully, nothing gives a man, a politician, a preacher, a soldier, a man in love, such inner strength and courage and conviction, than to have faith and hope on his side. ‘Right,’ on one’s side, sustaining an objective, no matter how noble or misguided the cause, is an all – powerful weapon. A true fact folks.
With my hardhat and light and no thought of caution, I scrambled down a greasy ladder, to the 150’ level. It was personal then. It was my work area.
I hopped on a motor and went gliding and tracking towards the powder room and the somber and black pitch was broken only by my light and the clicking and ticking of the motor.
Once at and in the powder room, I set to loading 200 lbs. of high – speed nitro onto the motor. I paused and thought, ‘what the hell’, and loaded on another 100 lbs. of ‘AMEX’. Amex was an additive, used as a booster, for synergy, added effect, to make for a massive and powerful blast, to do the job right. I’ve always been a bit of an extremist…
That special night, I was reasoning the way I was because I knew I was going to piss the bastards off in a big way and so it seemed a fit and proper reckoning they remember me for a long, long time. Afterwards and if I lived, the swine who owned Giant Mine would likely think little of tying a whopping chunk of ore around my leg and disappearing me into the depths of the Great Slave Lake. It would save every manner of explanation and embarrassment, trace and trial for them and I’d have said my piece.
Off in the direction of a target, nothing specific, merely something suitable for the total destructive effect, the twisting and turning of rock and steel, the intensity of pure statement. It had to be.
About then I was manic and mad as a hatter, so let me run down a few items concerning that magic moment, in 1976, down in the mine. Let me get back.
All those miles of track and direction, drifts and branch – drifts, stopes and levels and services areas, dead ends, equipment and tools, piping and electric that reached and ran endlessly and brightly forever and all for one enduring purpose. A greedy and insane purpose. It was man’s obsession for wealth and power. It was a natural consequence of a little rape, a reflection of artificial foundation and for the genius and wonder of it, it was lunatic and unsound. Greed and gain are worthy and delicate purposes but they made no sense at all to me, not on that night, deep in the mine. A necessary rape is still a rape. It was so totally correct but so very wrong.
People were bowing down and serving a lesser God. Show me a miner, a man who has worked underground his whole life long and I’ll show you the same man, if he’s a thinking man, a bitter man with every reason for regrets. I will show you a man looking to escape because if there was any way out of the booby – hatch which is a miner’s lot, a reasonable and intelligent man would go for it quickly and expeditiously.
Giant Y.K. Mine was no more than a goofy game, a maze with no escape, put together by restless and ruthless hoodlums, in a far off and far away land of stockholders and boardrooms. No root or primary factor was involved. People were no longer working for people. They were working for the system, the machine and it is wrong because even accepting man’s colossal greed; people must be part of any process, of any integral decision concerning this fragile planet.
I have tasted the poison water. I have breathed the lethal air. I have seen the derricks, the sisters. I have been the deforestation. I have witnessed the spent and wasted rock and dirt. I have felt and heard the planet cry.
Once I was frightened and angered by the evolution of progress. Not anymore. No. Never again. Today I know everything is unfolding to a definite purpose and right on schedule.
The commitments and hungerings of the industrial complex will come before the needs of man for a while yet. Once I may have said it was wrong and shouldn’t be allowed and should be corrected and those responsible should be taken out and shot and pissed on but I won’t. Man is such a silent coward.
Let me take you further. Today I don’t believe in wars or famine or disease or disaster or technology or pollution or population, nothing as being catastrophic enough to end my role and duty on this glorious and resplendent planet. I will never believe this planet will be in ultimate danger from anything paltry and pitiful man can do to it.
Whenever man has expressed an intense and insane need to self – destruct, a supreme and sovereign power has always stepped in. And always will. This planet does not belong to you. It belongs to God.
There is no time left for worrying or brooding or agonizing over trifles, over the trivia inspired by man. Because… we are living in the days of fire. Believe it folks. It will all come down to one dramatic and cataclysmic fire – fight in the end, the end of days. And we are close. Real close. I’ll keep walkin’.
That doomed and desperate night in Y.K., in ’76, the entire network and structure which was Giant Mine, was defenseless and unprotected against my defiance and my dominance. It would be the last time an employer would toss me a bone and expect me to be grateful and beholden. I did not feel like eating shit anymore. It no longer worked that way. It was payback time.
To the task at hand. Had located a fresh and high – grade work area. Deftly I placed the powder and the amex. I set and fired up the tape – fuse with my trusty ‘Zippo’ lighter. On point. Careful.
I had 7 min. to get clear. Any unforeseen hitch or miscalculation and I could have gotten jammed – up and have relieved myself of my earthly burden. My light could have blown out and I would have been in a worse dilemma than young Tom. Lost beneath the surface of the earth with no candles. Those damn ladders to surface were mighty slick and slippery from the mud and moisture of the years and I could have slipped. Now, that would have made for an interesting spectacle. I would have been instantly converted into a crushed and squashed dab of red jelly by the forthcoming blast or if I fouled up closer to the actual impact of the blast, bits and pieces of my rent and mangled remains may have been found, along with a hank of hair splattered on a rock. Had my motor refused to go, past the point of no return, well, that electric track would surely have been a suicide stroll. And it was likely enough, seeing as how I had transformed and worked over so many of the bastards, in fits of malice and ill - will.
That long and lonely night, back in ’76, in Y.K., I was pushing the buttons. No other man – made force or person had control over me. No. Not that night. And I did not have a death wish. No. I wanted to be around to see the results and backlash of my handiwork and talent. Life on this marvelous planet can be a cold and cruel misery if you stop caring. I wanted to start over. I wanted to start by caring. I needed to care. I needed to cheat death one more time. And…
As