On the morning of Sunday, January 19th, 2014 Allan Douglas passed over the bridge to pound the great typewriter in the sky. He died by my hand. Although I prefer the term “assisted suicide” to “murder” because Allan Douglas and I had in fact discussed this situation and the way things might play out. But should anyone elect to prefer charges…
Before the NSA data-mining center flags this post and sends the FBI over to break down my door, I should explain that Allan Douglas was my pen name. A pseudonym I began using way back in the late 1970’s when I first began writing for periodicals.
I chose to use that name because it was easier to remember – and to spell – than Douglas Bittinger. I also felt it sounded more artistic: more…writerly. And since it was indeed my own first and middle names, just deranged, it was still “me” any way you sliced it.
Why Kill Allan Douglas?
So what would motivate me to cast aside a moniker that I had served me well for so long and I had spent so much time building up? I can explain that in one word: Phoneyism.
How well do you handle reconciliation? Do you dread the process of making up? Do you enjoy clinging to the pain of past hurts? Does pride prohibit your assuming any responsibility for the conflict? Perhaps it is the discomfort of having to initiate the opening of old wounds and the cleansing of festered relationships that frightens you away from the peace table. Your hesitancy to apologize or suggest improved relationships may stem from your fear of being rejected. There are numerous reasons why reconciliation is avoided. Yet, it is one of life’s most rewarding experiences. There is no joy like the joy of being friends again. There is no love like the love from someone who has been estranged. There is no peace like the peace of being accepted and restored.

It has happened to all of us; we’re cruising along the boulevard of life, one elbow out the window, our favorite happy tunes playing on the radio, hand tapping the wheel in time with the tempo. Everything is grand, and we’re having a great time. So great we miss the warning sign; “Bump Ahead’. Then BAM-BAM, we’re suddenly careening along, barely hanging on as we try to slow down and get off to the shoulder so we can assess the damage.
Underneath our tough and successful adult exterior there continues to beat the heart of a child. This child which we once were has blended into the pattern of our maturity and still reaches out for love, acceptance, and attention. Even though we may have put away some childish things, the inner child of our past is a present reality. Those inferiorities and fears of childhood days continue to influence our adult behavior. Those lessons learned and truths accepted as a child form the basis of our moral and ethical judgments today. The commitments made and the faith expressed as a child give stability and strength to our adult character. Likewise the hurts and problems of childhood and adolescence have a lingering effect upon our personalities. We are the product of all that has transpired since the beginning days of our lives.
These days it’s easy to lose sight of the true meaning of Christmas, for the things we see and hear so often are not what it’s really about. It’s about the birth of a very special child; the Christ child. But his birth alone is not what made Him special, it’s what He did with His life and death that makes Him our savior and Lord.