Jackson's service in the War of 1812 against the United Kingdom was conspicuous for bravery and success
Jackson rose first, glared at Calhoun, and in a booming voice shouted "Our federal Union: IT MUST BE PRESERVED!"
We were lost, we were late, we were about sixty miles from where we said we were going to be, and we were finally alone. The night had been perfect up until just recently. The two of us stood looking at each other with stars in our eyes. Smiling like fools on the inside and trying to act as cool as the night had been on the outside, we began to discuss how lucky we thought we were. We were at the beginning of our end.
To our right, looking like a teary eyed bloodhound begging for food, our poor little soccer mom car had finally been beaten. Sitting dolefully with its hood up, vulnerable and waiting for that exquisite moment of triumphant glory when our friends would get back with the jumper cables. The car seemed to finally have dozed off as we stepped away from its fading interior light. In front of us, seemingly slouched against the front of our car, was what seemed like a mountain of ice-plant, rocks, and dirt. At the top of this mountain was the profile of what we thought was a creepy and slightly sinister seeming old lady. Unmoving and rather terrifying in its inert state, the old lady seemed to stare directly down at our car as though the engine had said something offensive and she was going to do something about it.
Behind us, contrary to the chilling old lady and the daunting shadows of the mountainous hill were the smooth pebbly shores of the beach. Us coming to this beach was the denotation of our trip. We came up to this far off shore to visit some very special friends and to got to the beach and relax and have a good time though none of us were really dressed for the occasion. Our little hebdomad had just ambled and frolicked our way up the slippery shore back to the parking lot not three hours ago. The fact that we did this like we were kids again delighted us and made us giddy with delight.
Although, from our lonely position you could see maybe six or seven bonfires burning incandescently on into the night, the darkness seemed to close in on use push what little time we had left away until we had to be back at our respective homes. Every once in a while you would see or hear kids coming and going to and from bonfires making the dark anxious trek from one blazing flame to the next. The harsh pollution given off by the soft yellow light posts and brilliantly burning bonfires seemed to focus solely on us. Standing there, ridiculous with our heads held high leaning against the car like everything was just fantastic. To our left, an eternity away it seemed, was the slight, biting incline of the open road.
This seemingly ordinary parking lot is too most, exactly that, an ordinary parking lot. A place where events begin and events end. To us this parking lot was the event. The fact that our car’s battery had died in this totally random parking lot 60 miles from anything and everything that is familiar to us was the epitome of adventure. It had packed that void which is and can only be filled once in a man’s life. That void, which can only be filled by that first epic adventure.
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