Somewhere off Christmas Island—an anomalous little fillet of land, with a steep crown and a narrow fringe of reefs, rising up through the blue-black swells of the Indian Ocean some two hundred miles south of Java—the seabed abruptly drops to unimaginable depths: twenty, twenty-two, twenty-four thousand feet. The ocean’s very surface sags by several meters along the great Java Trench. And within another two hundred miles or so south of Christmas Island, lost amid submarine canyons, contorted basins, and imbricated sediment, wedged in a deep shelf, or perhaps lying on a frigid abyssal plain, is a slowly disintegrating hulk of blasted metal.
It is not likely that Dr. Robert Ballard, or, for that matter, any other specialized, well-funded oceanographer, will ever probe those waters in search of this crumpled wreck. The seas are too dangerous, and the Malay Barrier (as it was once known) to the north is ringed by volcanic islands with a history of geologic violence.
It is easy to imagine the crumpled wreckage, covered with rusticles and wrapped in cerements of silt, thousands of feet beneath the slate-gray Indian Ocean four hundred miles off the green Javanese shores, far from those spring flowers. She was, is, a half-forgotten American warship, already elderly in World War II, a veteran of the Atlantic and Pacific oceans and the Mediterranean, Aegean, and Black seas, and finally a member of the U.S. Asiatic Fleet’s Destroyer Squadron 29: USS Edsall (DD-219). Her remains reposed in utter darkness for more than sixty-five years.
A Blue Sea Of Blood: Deciphering the Mysterious Fate of the USS Edsall, by Donald M. Kehn
Princia Ramode was driving around Red Canyon in her F-ZERO machine, the Spark Moon, as she sees a wandering individual who was not a resident of her universe. So, she parked right next to him and approached the creature. “Excuse me, friend. Are you lost here in Red Canyon?”
It isn’t any secret that we love the grand land of America.
We’ve hiked the rugged Rockies and waded through marshes in the north woods.
We’ve been lost in desert canyons and swam in rivers both pristine and polluted. We’ve seen suffering in suburban drug stores and overheard joy in voices of the strawberry pickers.
We can and do see this country for what it is, flawed and free and beautiful. Under these big skies, we seek out glimpses of a new America every single day. #orangeisoptimism