Inspiration Is Brought Back To Rory (#7)

Rory loved existing in the peace that was knowing all he could control was himself. He passed his days like some kind of renaissance man listening somber banjoes, partaking in the finest fermented beverages, and finding satisfaction in the relaxed nourishment he was giving his soul. He was done with conflict. He was removed from the daily grind of his carriage business. He was on a bit of a vision quest.

Still, though, he struggled for meaning. One afternoon he fried grit cakes and cut slices of mystery meat loaf, Spam, and settled in for a night of looking to the stars. As he ate, Rory felt a haze creep upon him like the late day sun was casting across the peanut field in back of his house. Certainly there are rumors about nitrites and whatever else is in food, but Rory was in full-fledged buzz mode when two kids wearing New England Patriots’ gear came running down the long rows of peanuts.

“You guys alright?” called Rory.

“Yes, sir,” said one of the kids. “We are just waiting for our grandfather. He’s a little behind us.”

Rory knew he was in a different dimension when the old man strode across the dusty field. The kids’ grandfather was none other than Bill Parcels, the Tuna. “Hey boys, you’ve gotta wait for your grandpa. I’m not as fast as I once was.”

Bill walked over to Rory. “Sorry for the interruption, but is your name Rory?”

“Yes.”

“Finally, I’m supposed to bring you a message. There’s a couple of other people out there too. I’ll wait for them, if you don’t mind.”

The two sat there looking across the field. A few minutes later Muhammed Ali and a woman came walking over to Rory’s deck. Ali was young and full of the energy that would make him famous. He introduced himself to Rory and Bill. He then turned and introduced Lena Kostenko, the Ukrainian poet.

Lena started, “I have been asked to share part of a poem with you. It is up to you to make sense of this for yourself. The line goes, ‘truth, honor, and trust.’ I have nothing else for you, but I hope that helps you on your quest.”

Then Muhammed Ali said, “I have also been asked to share a thought with you. Rory, ‘My principles are more important than the money or my title.’ I have nothing else for you, but I hope that helps you on your quest.”

Finally, Bill Parcels said, “Here’s mine, ‘If I’ve ever affected someone in a positive way that means a lot to me.’ I have nothing else for you, but I hope that helps you on your quest.”

There seemed to have been a spiritual polyculture at work. The visitors, beverages, and Spam had inspired Rory to remember his purpose to be an activist for everything that was “truthful, honorable, and trusting.” Rory smiled as the light faded and the messengers disappeared.

He whispered, “Principles and nice…”