Thinking question

 Before I present the thinking question, I would like to apologize for not having time to reply to any of your questions/comments. I am on a mission trip in South Carolina and barely have to to send out this post.

When Farquahar escapes the river, he finds his way back to his home and family. This makes sense because it should be natural for him to think of what he loves most when close to death. However, when first lured into sabotaging Owl Creek Bridge, Farquahar seemed only propelled by the need to aid his country. He did not seem in the least bit worried about the negative implications his capture could have on his family.

Often times, humans (especiallythe male variety) long for dangerous adventure. Because of this, when an opportunity comes along that promises to bring excitement, honor, and glory it can be almost impossible to resist. However, if Farquahar truly loved his family more than anything, why was he unable to crush his lust for adventure in favor of protecting his family? Did he love his family the most, or did his country or his desire for personal glory come first?

Line Illuminator

"Death is a dignitary who when he comes announced is to be received with formal manifestations of respect, even by those most familiar with him." (1.2)

As I was reading through the book, this quote really stuck out to me. Here, Bierce personifies Death, making it a character who is well known by the soldiers in the story. Judging by the mention of Union advances, the story takes place near then end of the Civil War, meaning that these soldiers are most likely battle-hardened, killing machines. Because of the war, they have become well acquainted with Death. It's almost as if war not only makes Death a close comrade of the solder, but also the commander - the king. What war does is determine not who is right, but who is left. By taking Farquhar's life, these soldiers are simply paying their dues their king, ensuring that they are the ones who are left. They take a live to stay alive. When Farquhar is "escaping," the executioners keep firing at him, not wishing him to live out the day. Is it because they just straight up hate his guts? Because of the propaganda spread throughout the war, they may have. More probably though, they were merely doing their job.

People can become incredibly hardened to death when constantly exposed to it. With soldiers, becoming hardened is a necessity. If they allow themselves to morn those they have killed, they will tear themselves apart. Death is something that not only happens often, but also inevitably. Why then, are we as a society so uncomfortable with the topic? Why do we still view this occurrence as strange and unfamiliar? And why are we unable to come to terms with death, at best only being able to harden ourselves instead? Is this a modern dilemma, a cultural one, or am I the only one who still finds this subject to be both fascinating and terrifying?

Exploration of the mysterious Owl Creek Bridge - Day Thirteen

I have not been able to write for some time due to the Jones's close watch, and indeed, it is a danger for me to do so even now... I have been almost totally deprived of all forms of chocolate goodies except for the few I fiendishly procured from a passing Scotcheroo pan. I believe she was taking it to reward her faithful laborers - ha! But with these laborers, I now share the terrible overlord's work load. I have attempted several escapes from my quarters, however, all have failed. On the last attempt I was captured and forced to slave away at an online blog along with the rest of the inhabitants of Owl Creek Bridge. The work is tedious, and I am beginning to understand why so many in this land have adopted the habits of night owls. There seems to be no way of escape. Yet, at least I have come to understand the peculiar behavior exhibited by these creatures.... So begins day 2 of my imprisonment...

Exploration of the mysterious Owl Creek Bridge - Day Five

I have finally located the source of the owls' peculiar blogging behavior! It is indeed a terrible overlord, as I first suspected. In fact, it is the very same overlord I came in contact with years ago during my adventures in Greece. Obviously, I write of none other than The Great and Powerful Mrs. Jones! What she is doing in this land of technology, I scarce can tell, but one thing is for sure: she doesn't belong here. I was unfortunate enough to stumble across her stress eating dark chocolate in the middle of the night due to her subjects misunderstanding their tasks. There have since been several attempts made to cut off my food supply. I am trapped in my quarters, and have no idea when I will be able to escape. I am starting to think that writing this treatise on Owl Creek Bridge may have been a mistake....