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A cryptic message leads to the clarity of Life's purpose. |
| "Pack your bags, Soldier," Murray's dad ordered. "We've got to move out as soon as we eat lunch." "But, Dad, all of my friends are here on this base." Murray started to cry. "You'll make new friends," his dad said. "I have my orders. That's all there is to it." "Can I at least tell my friends, 'Bye'?" Murray pleaded. "You can, if you're back, and buckled into the backseat of the car by 13 hundred." Dad's face was a wall. "That's less than two hours from now." "Then, I guess you better hurry." Murray was off at a trot. It was a good thing, that pretty much all of his friends lived on the same street. About half a dozen tearful 'Goodbyes' later, he was trotting back to his house. He looked at his watch, "1255." He opened the backdoor of the car, buckled himself in, sat next to all of his worldly possessions, and rolled down the window to wait. I guess it's better not to make friends, he thought, if it's got to be this way every few months or a couple of years. His dad started the car with a headcount to follow, gave a knowing look to his wife with a nod of the head, and drove off. Soon the base was no longer in the rearview mirror as Murray stared out into space. Will I ever have a better life than this? Murray wondered. Nobody cares about my feelings. Well, I don't have to care about anybody else's feelings, either, ever again. Murray is for Murray. Rather heady words for a nine-year-old army brat, but Murray had had enough. Something broke in him that day. (The commitment to lifelong self-worship changes a heart at any age.) From then on Murray's life was symbolized by the motto, "What's in it for me?" Murray taught himself how to do card tricks, and became good "friends" with kids on whatever base he landed on. The game of "21" was always good for pockets full of change. Every time some kid asked for "one more card," he knew just what card would win the game for himself, taking the kid's money with the kid kicking the dirt, and walking off. Faceless people moved in and out of Murray's life for the next decade or so, while he spent every moment he was alone, learning some new gimmick, some new trick with cards and jacks, and the ability to be a smooth talker. He got so many people to pay for his meal or something else, that he needed at the time, simply because he was "a nice guy, and my friend wanted to do something nice for me." (Wink, wink) When Murray turned 18, he approached his dad, and said, "This soldier has his bags packed," I'm gonna move out as soon as I can grab a bite to eat." At that point, it was time for his dad to look sad. "But where will you go? Do you have a place to stay? Can you support yourself?" "That's no longer your concern, Dad," Murray said with a smirk. "I have my orders. It's time to go." "Orders?" his dad was incredulous. "From whom?" "From my own heart," Murray's face was a wall, "I'm calling things the way I see them now. I'm my own boss. Be glad, if you ever see me, again." "Take care of yourself, Son." Dad was resigned to the situation. "O, I will," Murray said. "I will." by Jay O'Toole on October 13th, 2022   |
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