Read Proud Highway:Saga of a Desperate Southern Gentleman for Free Online

youthful dreams of adventure, accomplishment, travel and romance buried under the cloak of conformity? How does he feel when he realizes that he has barely tasted the meal of life; when he sees the prison he has made for himself in pursuit of the almighty dollar? If he thinks this is all well and good, fine, but think of the tragedy of a man who has sacrificed his freedom on the altar of security, and wishes he could turn back the hands of time. A man is to be pitied who lacked the courage to accept the challenge of freedom and depart from the cushion of security and see life as it is insteadof living it second-hand. Life has by-passed this man and he has watched from a secure place, afraid to seek anything better. What has he done except to sit and wait for the tomorrow which never comes?
    Turn back the pages of history and see the men who have shaped the destiny of the world. Security was never theirs, but they lived rather than existed. Where would the world be if all men had sought security and not taken risks or gambled with their lives on the chance that, if they won, life would be different and richer? It is from the bystanders (who are in the vast majority) that we receive the propaganda that life is not worth living, that life is drudgery, that the ambitions of youth must be laid aside for a life which is but a painful wait for death. These are the ones who squeeze what excitement they can from life out of the imaginations and experiences of others through books and movies. These are the insignificant and forgotten men who preach conformity because it is all they know. These are the men who dream at night of what could have been, but who wake at dawn to take their places at the now-familiar rut and to merely exist through another day. For them, the romance of life is long dead and they are forced to go through the years on a tread-mill, cursing their existence, yet afraid to die because of the unknown which faces them after death. They lacked the only true courage: the kind which enables men to face the unknown regardless of the consequences.
    As an afterthought, it seems hardly proper to write of life without once mentioning happiness; so we shall let the reader answer this question for himself: who is the happier man, he who has braved the storm of life and lived or he who has stayed securely on shore and merely existed?
    THIRD PRIZE POEM—NETTLEROTH CONTEST
“THE NIGHT-WATCH”
ANONYMOUS , 1955 ( BY HUNTER S. THOMPSON )
    Although he excelled academically at Louisville Male High School, one month after writing this poem the seventeen-year-old Thompson found himself convicted of robbery and sentenced to six weeks in the Jefferson County jail. On graduation day, when his classmates received diplomas, Thompson sat alone in his cell.
    I could see the moon hung high in the sky and the mocking grin on his face.
    I know he was looking straight at me, perched high in my lonely place.
    His voice floated down through the crisp night air and I thought I heard him say,
    â€œIt’s too bad my boy, It’s an awful shame that you have to go this way.”
    This chilled my heart and I shuddered with fear, for I knew he was right as right could be.
    It was then that my skin began to crawl and I thought, “What I’d give to be free!”
    Her face came back to me then like a flash, I remembered the touch of her lips.
    I remembered the beautiful gold of her hair, her sky-blue eyes and the touch of her finger-tips.
    Then I cursed myself and tore my hair for I knew I’d been wrong from the start.
    I’d thrown away every chance I’d had and finally broken her heart.
    My grief was of that special kind that only comes to men when they reach the end of a lonesome road and see what they could have been.
    I cried as I thought of the people outside who were happy, and honest, and free.
    And I knew that not even the lowest one would care to trade places with me.
    Cold sweat broke out on my forehead now