About Sir E.J. Drury II

Severely hand­i­capped by an alco­holic step­fa­ther, Sir E.J. Drury II set off on a cru­sade, after high school, in search of the very soul he had lost to this ogre. Upon enter­ing the Navy after a brief stint at the US Naval Acad­emy, he strug­gled, for two long years, both in and out of sleep, with the true enemy of mankind—the Beast.

As a sailor then, in the ser­vice of the US Navy circa 1967, he con­tin­ued his search for she who must be obeyed if he was to over­come the beastly side of his nature and reunite him­self with soul. “What­ever you do,” was he fore­warned by a fel­low ship­mate, early on, “don’t let them rob you of the most pre­cious gift you have, your human­ity, for the wraiths will claw away at it until all that remains is the shadow of what was once you.” And so must he, at all costs, resist the temp­ta­tion of his fathers before him, to live out the visions of oth­ers rather than the one with which he had been entrusted at birth, a vision that even­tu­ally lead to his expul­sion from the Navy for his non­co­op­er­a­tion and con­sci­en­tious objec­tion to the war in Vietnam.

Return­ing to St. Louis, he sought out and joined a loosely knit com­mu­nity of anti­war activists, veg­e­tar­i­ans, and free-​​spirited thinkers who pub­lished the city’s only under­ground paper, The St. Louis Free Press. After not quite a year of leaflet­ing the induc­tion cen­ter down­town and of help­ing dis­af­fected GIs from a nearby army base at Fort Leonard Wood, Mis­souri, he joined another com­mu­nity of rad­i­cal Catholics form­ing a Catholic Worker House on the near south side of the city. There he stayed until he left for Mil­wau­kee, Wis­con­sin, later that year, to work at an alco­holic treat­ment cen­ter on the near south side. After suf­fer­ing through one of the cold­est win­ters he had ever expe­ri­enced, he moved back to St. Louis to work on a psy­chi­atric floor at Lutheran Hos­pi­tal. Upon leav­ing there in protest, with other health care pro­fes­sion­als, over the per­for­mance of a lobot­omy on a 15-​​year-​​old female, he wound up work­ing on an ortho­pe­dic floor, and later, a psy­chi­atric floor at Jew­ish Hos­pi­tal, for the next seven or so years.

At the same time, he pur­chased a farm about a hun­dred miles south of St. Louis, where he had begun to exper­i­ment with grow­ing organic veg­eta­bles, he mar­keted back in St. Louis. There he built a cabin and began to acquire the tools and equip­ment he would need to farm 10 to 15 acres of organic fruits and vegetables.

Upon leav­ing Jew­ish Hos­pi­tal around 1980, he went to work for a friend and gen­eral con­trac­tor who was in need of a car­pen­ter. Around this same time, too, he mar­ried and began to raise a fam­ily. As his old­est son approached the age of two, he started build­ing a new house on the farm, only to have his well-​​laid plans dashed by an unfor­tu­nate but per­ma­nent injury to his back, that left him unable to per­form any kind of man­ual labor on a daily basis, ever again.

Thrown into a quandary, he even­tu­ally went to work for the City of St. Louis as a build­ing inspec­tor, where he worked for two years to the day, before tak­ing a sim­i­lar posi­tion with the City of Rich­mond Heights, under whose employ­ment he has remained, to this day.

After a series of dreams he had in his sec­ond year with the City of St. Louis, he started writ­ing, two hours a day until he had com­pleted the book, orig­i­nally enti­tled Close Encoun­ters of a Very Spe­cial Kind—a recount­ing of his first year in the Navy, his encoun­ters with soul and their even­tual but brief reunion. The book was so poorly pro­duced, it went nowhere. Crushed but not defeated, he con­tin­ued to work on a revised ver­sion of the book, off and on, until it reached its present form, a work of non­fic­tion enti­tled A Dif­fer­ent Kind Of Sen­tinel, pre­pub­lished in March of 2009 and finally released in the spring of 2010 after some final revi­sions to the books appearance.

For his part, Sir E.J. is a self-​​taught, self-​​made man who has strug­gled might­ily, to live up to his soul’s expec­ta­tions of him, acquir­ing along the way, what­ever it took to get them through the next stage in the devel­op­ment of that one per­son they are des­tined to become.

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