Short, Short, Short Stories

Yeah, it’s me, the one they whisper about in libraries around the world.  Well, of course they whisper, they’re in a library.  But if they were out in the street they would still only speak in low and somber tones about me; the man, the myth, the legend, Mickey Booker, Library Detective.

Where I hang my hat, if I wore hats, which I don’t, would be on a hat rack located in The Big Apple.  I was born in The Bronx and have rarely strayed more than a few zip codes from where I began.  As a library detective; others might say the library detective, I never had much time to travel.  With over 90 branches, 4 research libraries and 55 million items in their inventory, the New York Public Library system keeps me pretty busy.  I work out of the main branch on Fifth Avenue in Manhattan where they alone watch over two and a half million books.  That adds up to more open cases than even a seasoned gumshoe, like myself, can handle.  But I will not sleep until every case, like every book, is closed.  Of course, that’s metaphorically speaking.  We have to sleep, but mine will be troubled!

Smart kid like you can get why NYC gets thousands of requests for my services from libraries around the world.  They all want the best.  I take a look-see at all of them but never go.  There is plenty to keep me busy here and I never had much wanderlust that couldn’t be satisfied with a book. Also it was pretty standard stuff; missing books, expired cards and irregularities some call “Human Error.”  And, of course, the most disgraceful and heinous act of nefarious library criminals, the defacing of books!

You can imagine my surprise when I received a request from the LINCC, Libraries in Clackamas County, Oregon.  I’d never made it as far west as Chicago let alone all the way to the shores of the Pacific.  But they had an unusual problem that I’d heard about in the past but had never seen firsthand.  Some mug was keeping his, or her, place in the book by bending the corners.  My blood starts to raise to 212 degrees Fahrenheit just thinking about it!  Well I was buried in cases and did not want to face telling my girl Mabel I’d be hitting the road and have to miss our 1 month anniversary party at the local Slice n’ Suds next Tuesday.  But a creep defacing books in this way was too much for me to resist. We cleared it with NYC and LINCC, threw a few unmentionables in a backpack and was on my way to what we call the “Worst Coast.”

I chose the branch at Wilsonville, Oregon to be my home base.  The entire system all share books so we didn’t know if the crimes were perpetrated by one person from a specific branch or perhaps there was a whole gang working together.  Could even be worse; a copycat criminal!  I never heard of Wilsonville but it sounded nice, like a small backwoods village in the hills of Oregon.  My dreams were shattered when we hit crushing city traffic in from the airport.   No matter, I had a job to do and that was the only reason I was there.

Next morning I arranged to meet the Chief Librarian at the branch at 10:00AM sharp.  I liked to see the looks of awe and amazement when the staff sees me and realize it is, in fact, the real Mickey Booker.  But the Librarian had arranged to meet me alone.  This was to be a covert job, completely anonymous.  I got it right away.

She introduced herself as Paige Turner.  She had a welcoming smile and greeted me warmly.  I knew I wasn’t in NYC anymore.  Paige mused that my name was kind of ironic for a library detective.  I don’t get why she thinks the name Mickey is ironic; maybe if I worked at Disneyland, but I didn’t make a big deal out of it.  There was someone out there defacing books.  Time to get the wheels rolling before the trail gets cold.

Paige handed me a sheet. Here is a list of thirty-four books we found with bent corners.  When I took this case I had the branches start checking every return item for bent corners.  Of course we had no way to be sure the person returning the book this time was the culprit.  The corners might have been bent days, weeks, months or years ago.  But if it was easy to figure out they wouldn’t need me and I’d be home with Mabel washing a slice of pepperoni pizza down with a mug of suds.

After I perused the list for about an hour and made some notes, Paige introduced me to the two volunteers assigned to help me root out the culprit; Bess Sellers, and Hardin Cover.  My friends just call me Hard he said shaking my hand.

This is a big case so I hit them with the high-impact motivational speech that took me years to develop.  Bess, Hard: Time is money, the clock is ticking and there is no time to lose; we need to strike while the iron is hot.  When the going gets tough, the tough get going!  I saw by their blank stares they were stunned and my speech hit the bullseye.  They were my team.  I need you both to take these directions and spend the next few days checking out the shelves of all the libraries in the system.  Above all, be discreet.  We can’t let the evil forces at work to know what we are doing; the stakes are too high!

We got to work on the lists and by weeks end had added another fifty-three books to the defaced corners list.  With a total of eighty-seven titles we had gained the critical mass needed to put together a suspects list. 

At this point you see where the investigation is going.  I am afraid I can’t get in to more of the details.  I worked too long to build my reputation to give away every one of my investigation techniques.  Next thing you know a flood of wanna-be library detectives will appear on the scene and it’s the end for old-fashioned masters, like myself, who consider themselves as much artist as detective.  We’re not here solely to make a buck, although a buck is good.  Artists also have to pay the rent.

I can tell you this much.  Basically by checking records, using GPS coordinates, Google Earth, plus some basic boots-on-the-ground detective work, I found a suspect.  We zeroed in on a local 6^th grade teacher and calling ahead as is only polite, Paige Turner and I made an appointment to confront the teacher.  I was ready to throw the book at her, (that’s detective talk for sending her to prison for a good, long stretch).  Paige thought perhaps we could just talk to her and straighten things out.  We need good teachers and everything I discovered about Lexi Conn said she is one of the best.

We walked into her room, a delightful space with books, bright colors and wall posters extolling the virtues of reading.  Ms. Conn said I’ve been expecting you but not so soon and held out her hand like she was expecting me to clap on the bracelets, what we detectives call handcuffs, but she was only offering a handshake.  You came so quickly.  I only mailed the letter yesterday.

Letter, I thought?  You knew we’d find you I sneered.  She smiled and replied that she assumed it would be easy since she sent a letter to Paige apologizing.  My class goes to the library a lot as we make reading our top priority.  I discovered one of our boys taught everyone to bend the pages as his family taught him.  One student, Brooke Marks, realized it was wrong and alerted me.  We talked and the class decided to dedicate ourselves to finding ways to help and all took a pledge to never again deface a book.  If we spot any damage we now report it to the librarian immediately.

Not what I expected but I am a sucker for a happy ending.  That evening I said my goodbyes to the staff and was warmly thanked as they wished me safe travels; something that would never happen in Gotham City, by the way.  People are way nicer here, it kind of gives me the creeps.  With a nod and a thumbs up I headed to the airport to get back to the raucous crowd in the city that never sleeps.  Maybe there was still a chance to take Mabel for a celebration slice.

So if you are out there thoughtlessly underlining words, scribbling notes and bending pages in library books, knock it off or Mickey Booker will find you and set things right.  Case Closed!

Trevor had made countless visits to the Grand Tetons, yet he felt the same exhilaration and wonder as the first time he crossed over from Yellowstone and gazed at September’s sparkling splashes of color; a blush rivaling Monet’s palette. He imagined the mountains were sprinkled with sugar by the light dusting of snow and listened to the ethereal calls of the Bull Moose in search of a cow, what Trevor liked to think of as finding a soulmate with whom to share all this beauty.

Crossing the field to a nearby lake, Trevor flushed with excitement as he spotted a Trumpeter Swan gliding across the surface.  Its scientific name is Cygnus Buccinator, he mused.  So great was his love of nature at one time he had resolved to memorize all the names of every plant and animal in every national park in the United States.  But he soon realized there was just not enough time so decided to abandon the left side, the intellectual side, of the brain and use every second to flood his right brain’s senses, simply letting the beauty wash over him.

Trevor knew to his immediate right was a steep, narrow path leading up the side of a 22 foot rise, overlooking a hidden valley not visible from this spot.  He stepped onto the path, as he does every time he visits this location, and began running up the incline, running and pushing himself hard and then even harder.  He knew he should be exhausted but his respiration rose only slightly, and not from exertion but from exhilaration.  He wondered if his mother would ever understand the feeling of being totally immersed in a “You Are There” experience.

“Trevor, come down.  There’s someone here I want you to meet.”

His mother’s voice broke the reverie.  Time to go. Trevor took one last deep breath of the fresh, cool mountain air, and one final glance at the glorious vistas surrounding him, closed his eyes and removed the goggles. He set the goggles on the desk carefully.  They cost his mother more than they could afford but both agreed they were worth the investment.  Trevor rolled his chair back from the folding table that acted as his desk and pushed to the living room.  He could have had a rechargeable chair but preferred the manual model; a good upper body workout.  Miracles do happen he thought, and when it does I want to have retained as much muscle tone as possible.

As Trevor pushed the wheels forward into the living room he saw his mother begin to come toward him to help.  His quick, steely glare told her not to and she stopped, aching to see him try so hard to cover his pain with a smile.

“Trevor, this is Mrs. Meyers from the Make-A-Wish Foundation.  She has some wonderful things to tell you.”  Trevor smiled and extended his hand to Mrs. Meyers as she softly clasped his hand in a careful greeting. His slight turn to his mother with a blank stare clearly delivered his message.  He was not happy to have this visitor.

Mrs. Meyers spoke directly to him.  “Trevor, Make-A-Wish has arranged for you to spend two days at Yellowstone National Park.  You and your mother will be escorted by a qualified guide and park ranger to make sure you both are safe and get to visit all the most beautiful places. You will spend two nights at the beautiful Canyon Lodge.  From there you can get an early start to see everything you want within the park.”  Mrs. Meyers paused her much practiced speech to see his reaction.

“Thank you Mrs. Meyers.  It is very kind but I have been to Yellowstone.  Perhaps there is someone else who would love a trip like this?”

Looking slightly bewildered Mrs. Meyers looked to Trevor’s mother who, as she flashed her silent glare to Trevor, said “He hasn’t actually been.  He visits National Parks with his ‘You Are There’ computer program and virtual reality headset.  I am sure he would be amazed at the beauty and grandeur of a real trip there.”  As she spoke her eyes pleaded with Trevor not to carry this any further.

“My mother is right, Mrs. Meyers.  I am just a little nervous.  I can’t even imagine what I might feel being there in person.  Definitely a trip of a lifetime, but I guess that goes without saying.  Your organization is almost too wonderful to believe.  I don’t know why I deserve such kindness but thank you.”

Visibly relieved Mrs. Meyers sat on the edge of the chair and filled in some of the information he would want to know.  “We have worked closely with your mother on the details. You both will be leaving one week from today and be gone two nights.  There will always be a guide with you and a medical staff available…” As she continued Trevor maintained a smile but tuned out.  Her words didn’t matter, his mom was happy.

When Mrs. Meyers left Trevor’s mother set the table for dinner.  Trevor helps arranging the plates and silverware as he always does. “Mom, you know I don’t want to go.  I’ve been there and it is beautiful.  I just want to spend my time here. With the virtual programs my mind is able to see, feel and smell.  It’s enough.”

“You will love it Trev and we will be together out of this dingy little house. In the fresh mountain air.”
“I like this house and the air is fine.  But if it will make you happy.”
“It will make us happy Trev, even for a short time I know we will find our smiles.”
“Sure mom, let’s do it!”

No more was said about it that night.  They had dinner in silence and Trevor went back to his room and downloaded a new program for Black Canyon at Gunnison National Park in Western Colorado.  It was small for a National Park but, he had read, worth the trip.  He put on the goggles and entered the park.

Trevor confidently strode over the brownish scrub and rocky surface, an unpaved trail of about 200 feet to get to the edge of the South Rim of Black Canyon.  When the full majesty of the Painted Wall stood before him he froze in wonder. A steep cliff, the tallest in Colorado, and from his virtual vantage point viewed the entire length of the face, brushed with nature’s dark, intense hue, blurring as his eyes filled with tears.  With a click he was on the North Rim, inaccessible to the unseasoned hiker, taking in another angle of the Painted Wall.  Another click and he continued with a most difficult hike along the Gunnison River at the bottom of Black Canyon and through one of the deepest, longest and narrowest gorges in the world. When he came to the end of the path he felt a sudden tiredness and removing his goggles fell immediately asleep.  He had a lot to take in.

The day before Mrs. Meyers would come by to pick them up Trevor sat at the dinner table with his mother.
“Mom, if we didn’t go would you be really disappointed?”
“Of course I would.  Wouldn’t you?  You have always wanted to go to Yellowstone, even when you were a little boy and would camp in the back yard with daddy.  You both wanted to go.”

“Yes, I know.  But with Dad gone…and I have been there you know.”

“Trevor, as wonderful as the goggles and programs are you can never know what it is like to actually be there, until you have.”
“OK mom, I’ll be ready.  I am really tired and think I’ll go to bed.  Big day tomorrow. I love you.”
“Love you too son.  I’ll be in to say goodnight before I go upstairs.”

With that Trevor rolled back from the table and into his room.  He loaded the Yellowstone National Park program thinking about the Mammoth Hot Springs and Old Faithful in the Upper Geyser Basin.  He looked for where he set the goggle then thought to himself, I don’t need the program tonight, not tonight.  He turned off the computer and wrote a short note to his mom saying how excited he was to be going to Yellowstone and that having to share it with someone makes it that much better.  He signed the note as always, “Love you forever Mom!”

With that done he moved to the bed, lifting himself on to the mattress and into his favorite sleeping position on his back.  He immediately drifted off and was in Yellowstone, effortlessly hiking up the trail from the Dunraven Pass Trailhead to Mount Washburn.  As he neared the top he saw a man was already there, taking in the one of the most magnificent vistas in all of nature.  Smiling to himself, Trevor knew he would always have someone with him to share the view.

      “Jane it’s time to go. Get in the car.”  I yell back at Mom to wait a minute, I’m just finishing a chapter. I know she’ll ignore my plea.  I understand.  My little sister Lily is in the third year of her terrible twos and there seems to be no relief in sight.  I’m eight years older and never was a “wild child” like Lily.  Once she is settled in her car seat there is no time to waste.  We have only five minutes until the wailing begins.

     Starting out, while Lily is still quiet, I get the current version of Mom’s summer reading list speech, “Pick ten books, eight that are NOT mysteries and please don’t get side-tracked wandering the library aisles looking for imaginary clues. No more than two books can be Phryne Fisher mysteries.  I am happy you love Kerry Greenwood but you need to expand…” At this point I tune out.  I have heard it before.

     I always loved mysteries.  I’ve read every kid’s detective book written; The Hardy Boys, Nancy Drew, The Wollstonecraft Detective Agency, The West Meadows Detectives, Nate the Great and many more.  But when I found Kerry Greenwood’s novels featuring private investigator Phryne Fisher I knew my destiny was to be a detective.  I see the mystery all around me every day, but I know to be a great detective you have to have real life experience.  At my age reading is the best way to gain that experience.  I read a lot.

     We get to the library and Mom tells me we have 30 minutes tops. She and Lily will be in the preschool section and I should come there when done.  She warns me again not to get sidetracked.  I reassure her and head for the fiction aisle, A-C, my notebook ready.  As I approach the shelf there is a woman at the head of the aisle, examining the books of the A initialed authors.  I hang back allowing her space but she catches my eye and smiles, then returns to her search.  But before she turned away I clearly saw a question or message in her eyes.  She was trying to tell me something, communicate.  She needs help.

     I take a quick glance around.  There does not seem to be anyone watching us.  She is slim with shoulder length auburn hair and wears a stylish summer dress with Birkenstock sandals.  Money is not her problem.  Without looking back she replaces the book and moves down the rack where she removes, scans and then replaces another book. A quick glance back and she turns the corner.

     I quickly write down in my notebook the two books she wanted me to see. “A Death in the Family” Agee and “The Good Earth” Buck.  I try to decipher the message but have no time to think about what they might mean. I have to keep her in my sights.  I will revisit the titles when I have a moment but death and earth?  This may be much more serious than I had anticipated.  It might be my most challenging case to date.

    I quickly spot her in the D section.  Again she removes and replaces a book.  As she turns the corner I know she feels my presence and instinctively realizes I am here to help.  Checking the shelf I note “The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes” Doyle.  Message received, keep sending.

     Next, in the G’s, two books were slightly askew, “The Wind in the Willows” Graham and “The Fault in Our Stars” Green.  Time to piece some of this together.  She clearly wants help but is unable to communicate with me directly.  The answer comes when I next spot her at the H shelf.  There she speaks to a man.  He is about her age and well dressed.  They both have wedding rings and he softly touches her shoulder while they speak. They are married.  Both laugh as they seem to share a joke.  He is not the problem.  I glance down and holding on to her daddy’s leg is a little girl, about the same age as Lily. Daddy scoops her up in his arms, kisses his wife on the cheek and moves back the table where there are crayons and a coloring book. I get the message.  This case is not about a troubled marriage.  I have to dig deeper.

     After touching another book she moves on.  “The Old Man and the Sea” Hemingway.  Noted.  She runs her hand along the books as she walks but does not specifically touch one until she arrived at the M’s. She pulls it off the shelf and turns again to see me, speaking with her eyes saying don’t give up!  I add one more title to the growing list, “The Life of Pi” by Martel. This one puzzles me, but I’ll get there soon enough.

     She quickens her pace as if to say time is running out and I need to pass along the final clues before we are discovered.  It is all I can do to note every book she looks at or touches as she makes her way back to the table where her husband and daughter are coloring and waiting.  I write fast, “My Name is Asher Lev” Potok, “Snow Flower and the Secret Fan” See, “The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn” Twain, “Charlotte’s Web” White.

     She stops and removes one final volume.  Returning it she again glances back and smiles.  When she returns it to the shelf I make my final entry, “The Book Thief” Zusak. I step around the corner to watch her lift her daughter into her arms and kiss her cheek.  Daddy gathers the crayons.  Holding her daughter she turns and looks directly into my eyes, takes her daughters hand and pointing to me says wave bye-bye to the nice girl.  They both wave and smile, then, as dad takes mom’s hand, they all turn and walk toward the exit.

     Another mystery, why didn’t she check out a book?  Surely in all the thousands of books in the library there was one that sparked her interest.  Time to assemble the clues and solve the case.  I sit down in the same chair where dad colored with his little girl.  Opening my notebook I look at my twelve entries:

1. A Death in the Family by Agee
2. The Good Earth by Buck
3. The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes by Doyle
4. The Wind in the Willows by Graham
5. The Fault in our Stars by Green
6. The Old Man and the Sea by Hemingway
7. The Life of Pi by Martel
8. My Name is Asher Lev by Potok
9. Snow Flower and the Secret Fan by See
10. The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn by Twain
11. Charlotte’s Web by White
12. The Book Thief by Zusak.

 

     A good detective sometimes has to take in the entire crime scene all at once to determine exactly what happened.  Clearly the mother tried to get me to help her, but why?  Examine the evidence.  The first title mentions death and a later title is about life.  Next I see many natural elements, earth, wind, willows, stars and flowers. And so many people; an old man, Sherlock, Pi, Asher, Snow Flower, Huckleberry and Charlotte.  Also the word “adventure” appears twice in the titles. The final title refers to a book thief.  That doesn’t seem to fit, maybe a clue by itself?  I will need time to read all these books.  But like my favorite sweat shirt says, “So many books…so little time.”  The titles are not enough.  To help her I need to read the books.  She does not seem to be in any immediate danger.  I will figure it out!

     “Jane” the sound of sound of my mom’s voice shakes me out of the trance I fall into when working on a case.  She has a cranky Lily dangling on one arm as she leans over me. “It’s late.  You haven’t been sitting there the whole time have you?  What about your list?”

     Mom I’ve been working on a case.  A woman needs my help. I’ll get the list together.  I try to think fast to avoid another lecture on the advantages of reading a diverse group of authors my mom lifts my notebook from the table. I watch her jaw visibly drop.

     “Jane, I don’t know what to say.  This list is wonderful.  I’ve read most of these.  It’s a long list and I see you haven’t added any Phryne Fisher mysteries yet.  But the books are amazing and beautiful and I have to admit, a bit surprising.  I know you can do whatever you set your mind to.  I really don’t know what to say except thank you and please take Lily, my arm is numb.”

      Sure mom.  I’ll even read some of these to her. I am sure she will love “Charlotte’s Web”

A Short, Short, Short Story in Five (5) Parts

I.

The Winner

BY this time it had become rote.  I no longer watched the drawing.  There is a subtle comfort in waiting until Thursday or Sunday morning to look at the numbers drawn the previous day.  Waiting makes a statement.  It tells anyone who cares (though probably no one does) that I don’t really think I’ll ever win. It’s an impulse purchase.  You don’t really think you have a chance but, why not?  You are a regular guy throwing away a few dollars a week for fun.  If not on the lottery then what, weed, booze?  If you beat incredible odds, at least a zillion to one, and lightning strikes… the world opens up.  You can throw a party, take a dream vacation, quit your mind-numbing job and pursue your dreams of spending your days dispensing sage wisdom and dabbling in ostentatiously visual philanthropy.

No need to look at my ticket.  I had played the same numbers for the last 11 years. Quick click on the bookmarked lottery link and the winning numbers appeared but I do not look at them all at once. I cover the screen with a paper to dramatically reveal one number at a time.  I love that phrase, “The Winning Numbers.”   Makes me laugh.  No one ever won.  No one that benefitted me.  My ex-wife Margaret never understood my need to buy a ticket. I explained the rationale behind my purchase, “you can’t win if you don’t buy a ticket.”  Clear and simple.  But then she’d get revved up and unleash the usual old whine about being short on rent and food money, (come up something original Margaret).  Next came her daily “anything my idiot husband Ted does is wrong” diatribe, always leading to the grand finale where she educates me, again, with her dramatic soliloquy on the two irrefutable lottery truths: #1: “You have the same odds of winning whether or not you buy a ticket” and piece of lottery wisdom #2: “Somebody is going to win the lottery jackpot.  It’s just not going to be you.” 

When I didn’t agree to her vulgar demands, she stormed out of the room with a trailing final sentence, some form of “stop throwing our pathetically meager funds away on lottery tickets Dick head.”  It used to be a kinder “stop buying tickets asshole!”  When the name-calling escalated I realized our marriage of 12 years might be in trouble. It was not only the lottery or my disinclination to bathe causing problems. But those two minor irritants combined with her unrealistic expectations about our sexual relationship was a deadly combo.  Every Saturday night she’d spout the same complaint even though I showed her the facts: 5 minutes of intercourse combined with 5 to 7 minutes of foreplay is on the high-side of normal. It’s those damn real housewives of from where-the-hell-ever that fill her head with unrealistic expectations.

So here goes:  First up 8, check! 9, check!  Whoa two in a row, 12, Yahoo a free ticket for next drawing, I am on a roll one more and I’m in the money…13…YES! Four in a row and looking at $40 or more, Hmmmm? One more and it’s a cool mil, slowly, slowly…take a breadth…ENOUGH, act like a man! Just look at the last two before you build your hopes high enough to come crashing down.  Looking for a 14 and 27…14 and 27…! Now! 14 and 27…Holy shit!

II.

The List

“One for my master, one for my dame, one for the little boy who lives down the lane.”  Makes sense to me.  There is no definitive text or handbook on how to give away large sums of money to maximize good while minimizing the impact to the remaining balance.  Of course I want to.  Actually, I have to.  I promised that if I were to win i would share and make a difference in a lot of lives.  Whether or not that promise is enforceable is debatable, still I don’t think I want to chance the consequences.  I have seen enough movies on The Hallmark Channel to know good fortune unappreciated turns bad quickly! Of course, in the end you realize that you don’t need money to be happy. Sitting on just over $350 million I do not want to learn that lesson.
It is much too much money for one person.   And when I think about all the joy I can bring to others I am filled with a warm glow, knowing how much my gracious benevolence will be appreciated.  I am also aware, having read many tales in People Magazine of countless lottery winners that have fallen on hard times, been victims of crime and more commonly filed bankruptcy, that money can disappear as quickly as it arrived.  I want to be rich for the rest of my life.  That’s my priority right after doing the requisite amount of good. For sure, good comes first. I guess.

So, one for my master.  That is already taken care of.  I gave the taxman, state and federal all their cash up front. My accountant went berserk when I told him I was just going to withhold the entire maximum tax amount and be done with it. He really wasn’t my accountant.  He is my parent’s accountant. I barely made enough to require a long form so TurboTax has been my go-to for the last 8 years.  I asked them for a referral without disclosing the reason.  I may have led them to believe I had gotten a real job that paid enough to make taxes a consideration. The accountant starts in with tax shelters and charitable trusts and blah, blah, blah so I gave him an extra hundred thou to shut up and do what I say.  I also swore him to secrecy.  My state does not require that I reveal myself and I was taking advantage of that until I was ready to spread my largesse.  $350 million after taxes and no chance of an audit where I’d have to explain stuff is fine with me.

One for my dame. In the olden days, before I was born even, I am told this meant the church. Yeah, I am going to give $50 million to the church.  Have we met? Probably not, but I worship family and friends, not an invisible man who judges me unfairly, so my one-third, about, will be my dame giveaway, family and friends. Here goes my first shot:

• They have supported me all my life including a boost now and then as an adult. I held a grudge for a while because they did not like Margaret and they did a pretty lousy job of hiding it. But I loved her and they should have accepted her unconditionally.  I kind of forgave them when I finally admitted they were right and she was a nasty bitch with a terrible temper and a mind of her own. Probably the biggest mistake I ever made, or at least one of the top ten.
• My sisters have always taken care of their younger brother. They were actually more in my life than my parents. Abbie would include me in all her games like tennis.  I would always retrieve the ball and get her and her friends drinks or towels. Molly let me hang out in her room whenever she was there.  We’d play house and I got to clean her room and put away her clothes.  Lily and I signed a blood oath never to tell certain things to my parents and I never once broke a confidence, even when it required me to take responsibility for one of her mistakes. Any one of them would probably cut me in for half so I need to be extra generous with them.
• My older brother Durwood, a name that means “Gatekeeper” in England, I think, acted like a gatekeeper for me. He did try and protect me but mostly I didn’t need protection.  He would try and tell me how I was being taken advantage of by my sisters but I loved their attention.  Being ten years older than me we did not do a lot together but he is all right I guess.  He is my brother so I put him at the same level as my sisters.  I have to think a little more on this one.
• My aunts and uncles. Not much to think about here.  All were OK. No standouts in the crowd.  I’d seen them and my cousins on holidays and got birthday presents from most, although we all stopped giving presents at the age of 12.  We collectively feel presents are for kids and 12 is close enough to adulthood to cut the expenditure.  As my favorite Uncle Sol used to say, “12 years old is when I met B.J. Wilson and the initials did not stand for Bonnie Jean, if you know what I mean!”  Actually he only said that once and I didn’t see him much after that. Anyway they are all ok and I’ll let each individual family decide on the division of funds.  I have more important things to decide.
• Sven: Again not much to decide. We have been friends since the sixth grade and promised long an ago to cut each other in if one of us won.  Just my luck I am the one who has to give up the cash. But a deal is a deal so he gets a big chunk although he will probably feel cheated.  The term 10% was mentioned at some point in the past but there is nothing in writing.
• My friends Emmy and Lucy stay in contact with me. I get Christmas cards, regular emails and the occasional phone call, or more accurately texts. Those terms seem to be interchangeable these days.  I have known them for years and they did come to my wedding.  They are wonderful people and I do have a “Paucity” of friends. (Paucity is my Merriam-Webster word of the day so I used it. Yaay, 10 bonus points). I figured them at $8 million each, 20% lower than my male friend. Since they began as work friends I decided to give them 20% less for doing the same job to keep it real.
• I have a group of people I like. Who knows why? Some from work, some just from daily interactions but I want to be able to reward kindness and half a million can change lives. The names are Ted, Ariel, Simon, Roger, Sheri and Liam. They do require further thought but I need to set aside the funds. We’ll just see what we see!
• I am planning on starting a non-profit foundation to do good from now on. I figure $25 Million will be enough to start and perhaps attract some other donors to take over the burden.  I considered remaining anonymous but I think putting my name on it so people can understand where it came from and that I did not HAVE to give it away will create in them the desire to do the same.  As you can see, much thought went into the creation of my legacy.
• I put a million aside so I can carry a few $1,000 envelopes at any given time, just to give deserving people a boost. A homeless person, a waitress working to get through nursing school.  A single mom working 3 jobs to make ends meet or a young boy who gave his Christmas gift to a child in need.  I can see the internet lighting up with the story and then being tracked down by an intrepid reporter from the 6:00PM News.  I, of course, hope to remain anonymous.
• And then there is Margaret. After all, we had rocky times but we did love each other once, or rather I loved her once. She does deserve something for all those years together. Instead of money I think she would appreciate this more.  A huge bouquet of candy lollipops and a note saying “SUCK ON THESE, CRUELLA!”  That one is something for me.
• Here’s what it looks like. I still have over $170 Million for me. I should be able to make that last!

Mom and Dad	$ 10,000,000
Three Sisters: Abbie, Molly, Lily	$ 75,000,000 (1/3 each)
One Brother: Durwood	$ 25,000,000
Aunt Sally & Uncle Sol + 3	$ 5,000,000
Aunt Trudy & Uncle Bobby +1	$ 5,000,000
Aunt Helen & Uncle Sidney + 2	$ 5,000,000
Best Friend Sven	$ 10,000,000
Best Friends (fem) Emmy & Lucy	$ 16,000,000 (1/2 each)
Assorted Friends (6)	$ 3,000,000   (1/6 each)
Assorted Charities	$ 25,000,000
Surprise Giveaways – 1000 X $1K	$  1,000,000
Margaret	$ 0,000,000
TOTAL	$180,000,000

 

III.

The Revised List

Somethings wrong.  I put a lot of time and scientific analysis behind the division of my assets, i.e. my money and yesterday it made sense.  Somehow the figures seem a bit skewed to me today.  How can I spend 11 years working hard to gather these assets and then arrive at a division to give away more than I keep?  Being a naturally giving person, (yes Margaret, I know you see things differently but then reptiles are not known for their keen eyesight), I want to make sure and share my good fortune. I think a few adjustments will quickly balance the fairness scale. I’ll try take another crack at it. Round two:

• My parents are in their 80’s. What are they going to do with $10 million?  Buy a better quality instant coffee or move up from generic bran flakes to Kellogg’s?  They would end up complaining about the responsibility and give it back to us kids or, more likely, my dad would make some brainless move like leaving it to a charity as his little “gotcha” on his way out.  I’ll give them a prepaid Costco visa card so all their purchases will cost them nothing.  It will take some explaining but I will make them understand they can buy anything, always.  Actuarial tables would tell me they may spend two to three hundred thousand by the end of their lives. They will be happier, have no worries and can go bat-shit crazy in the Metamucil aisle.
• My dear sisters. $25 million each?  I really do need to take good care of them. They are all sweethearts!  The one downside is they all have husbands. Well, Molly and Lily have husbands, Abbie has a partner.  Same thing.  All three are pretty docile when it comes to dealing with their not-so-better halves.  Giving them money is giving control of a fortune to people I don’t really know.  Maybe they are having affairs or are ready to dump my sisters and ironically run off to Bali with Trixie from Human Resources.  Not on my money!  I think $5 million each and then, if they get dumped, I’ll have their extra $20 million waiting for them to mend the broken hearts or, more likely, throw the biggest party a small part of the money can buy. Very small, I will suggest.
• He is a conundrum.  He is my brother.  We share genes and a common history although our childhood memories are vastly different.  He was the first and showered with attention which he tries to play off as a negative. He opines about how he was doted on and never allowed to try anything dangerous or creative and I was an afterthought, or more accurately, an accident.  He said I had much greater freedom to expand my consciousness and have fun.  I was the lucky one being ignored. What a crock of baloney.  I don’t remember the fun part.  The raging narcissist gets $5 million and better show some appreciation or He’ll end up with a hearty handshake and a boot print on his ass.
• Aunts and Uncles. I can’t, in good conscience, give them more than my immediate family so BOOM!  They each get a million dollars.  More money than any of them have seen in one spot ever so they should be dancing on the rooftops singing Sweet Sue!  And if they complain I’ll see how they like the revised total, zero, zippo, zilch, nada, nothing!  Whew, that felt good.
• Sven, $10 million? We promised each other a million bucks if one of us wins.  Being practical I revised it to 1% of a giant jackpot, after taxes.  I guess in hindsight I might have thought a little too much about this stuff. But again, I am not comfortable giving too much and I will always be around if he has a need.  If his second wife dumps him like the first I’ll be able to refill his coffers if, that is, we are still friends.  And I do like him better than Durwood.  $5 million it is.
• Emmy & Lucy. I am getting tired of this.  Everybody always wants something but I don’t see anybody giving me anything.  Still, I need to share.  They are good friends when they want to be.  I am going to stick with my first thought. 20% less.  They get $4 million each.  We’ll see.
• Ted, Ariel, Simon, Roger, Sheri and Liam. $100 grand each. Take it or leave it.  Who else has ever given you that much.  Let’s keep the greed in check people and show some gratitude!
• My charitable foundation is sacrosanct. That is untouchable.  It will be my legacy and my joy.  Thinking about it I do worry about who will carry on and lead it after I am gone.  The best way for a charity to survive is to get a solid group of patrons or benefactors.  The trick is to touch a nerve in the largest amount of people with means.  I should put some thought into a cause I might feel comfortable in backing.  Animals are good.  Animal welfare shows my softer side but vegetarianism is off the table.  I’ll figure out something.  But how much should I put in?  If you start out with too great a fund they may not think they are needed or their funds would be better spent elsewhere.  I think I will start with $10 million and start to filter in more as the donor list builds.  In the end I may give much more than the initial amount I planned, if I manage to hang on to it.
• I am not budgeting any surprises. I will always keep a few Ben Franklins in my wallet to reward exceptional service or dire need but it will just be under the cost of living the life of a philanthropist.  No need to budget.
• I am also rethinking Margaret. I have confirmed with the attorney our marriage is dissolved and was so long before I won the money so she has no claim so why not move on.  Show that there are no hard feelings.  I kind of feel I won already.  But cash is so crass.  I think perhaps a significant gift showing I moved on, no recriminations; forgiveness flowing like champagne. I came up with a gift that I think conveys all this, closure in a box.  I am going to get her the deluxe model “For Her Pleasure Extra Large Vibrating Appendage,  “ So real you’ll think he is there with you!” and she can finally experience that all-nighter she has dreamed up in her mind

Let’s see what this looks like:

Mom and Dad	$       300,000
Three Sisters: Abbie, Molly, Lily	$  15,000,000 (1/3 each)
One Brother: Durwood	$    5,000,000
Aunt Sally & Uncle Sol + 3	$    1,000,000
Aunt Trudy & Uncle Bobby +1	$    1,000,000
Aunt Helen & Uncle Sidney + 2	$    1,000,000
Best Friend Sven	$    5,000,000
Best Friends (fem) Emmy & Lucy	$    8,000,000 (1/2 each)
Assorted Friends (6)	$       600,000   (1/6 each)
Assorted Charities	$   10,000,000
Surprise Giveaways – 1000 X $1K	$
Margaret	$                      59.95
TOTAL	$  46,900,059.95

BETTER!  Much better!

 

IV.

The Call

So then this happened. I had spent a day reviewing the list wondering if I was being cheap or, more likely, too generous.  I am a nice guy and tend to think of others before myself although Margaret would probably tell a different story.  But I think I have shown that her opinion is a bit skewed when it comes to me.

I sat looking for the obvious places to make cuts. I wanted this all worked out before revealing my good fortune to the world.  I thought I had finished, but I was staring at the list and felt uncomfortable.  There must be a clearer path and some scientific equation that would provide an answer. I think too much, a problem for us intellectuals.

Interesting.  I felt sorry for myself. Why is it always on me to figure things out?  As I began feeling the oppressive weight my cellphone rang. More accurately it starting honking like a rush hour traffic jam in Mumbai. I think ringtones say something about the person with the phone and this tone creates an aura of mystery around me when overheard by strangers. They always stare and seem to appreciate there is more to me, something special, uncommon. I looked at the name and saw the familiar “Unknown” on my Caller ID.  I usually hang up without answering but this time I figured maybe, now that I had the means and time I might be interested in hearing about the robocaller’s extended warranty or donating to an obscure charity so I answered in my usual way to avoid being recorded saying any positive comments.
“Si, Bueno.” It was surprisingly met with laughter.

“Hablas español? I happen to know you speak English Ted, but if you prefer you may pick the language. So, English, Español, parle Français?”

“English will do.”  I might have hung up in the past but he surprised me and that’s not easy for someone as worldly as me.  He had a smile in his voice that was immediately engaging and I wanted to hear what he had to say. He introduced himself as the son of a world famous evangelist.  I knew of his father even though he died some years ago.  Everyone from Popes to presidents knew his father.  I admitted I was not familiar with him, specifically.
“Ted, I do the Lord’s work.  Self-aggrandizement is not appealing to me so I use my father’s name on the ministry.  He is the saintly one.”

“Well Father or Pastor, I’m not sure what to call you.” As I started the process to extricate myself from his grip he interrupted and told me to call him Frank.  “OK, Frank.  You know I am not much for organized religion and working on some tough problems so I’m not going to waste your time.  Thanks for calling.”

“Ted I’m not knocking on your door to convert you.  I’m calling as a friend and businessman to save you from wasting time and a lot of money.  You are paying way too much in taxes and should exercise much better control over your lottery winnings.  You could use a friend right now, one with no ulterior motives that has no need or desire for your money.  My one and only reason for this call is to help you. I promised I would.”

Now I was visibly flummoxed.  I took care not to let anyone know, not even my parents, that I had won.  And doesn’t the accountant have to follow the same client confidentiality as a lawyer, like attorney-client privilege? So how did he know, and see my tax forms and get my cell number? What else does he know?  My fear and curiosity (cat-like I suppose) kept me on the line.  I had to find out how he knew I had won and what he planned to do with the information.  I chose my next words carefully.

“How did you know I won, what do you plan to do with the information and how did you get my cell number?”

“You forget who I answer to Ted.  I want nothing from you, not a single dollar.  I want you to be able pay only your fair share of taxes, retain control of all your assets so that you may choose when and to whom they go and forever free you from worry. I am only a spiritual guide, not a lawyer or accountant but I do have some keen insights on many things.  And I come with a built-in confidentiality clause. We should talk as soon as possible.  As providence would have it I am having a few friends in for dinner tonight and we’d love to have you join.

My warning alert button exploded in my head and I knew I had to get off the phone. But strangely felt I needed his permission. “I really am tied up for the next few days but I appreciate the offer. Let me get back to you. I’ve got to go.”  I really did.

“Ted, slow down. There are a few people coming tonight I know you’d love to meet.”  He read off three names, two famous actors (A-list I guess) and huge rock star for whom I have a “thing.”  I am being a touch secretive as I am not sure who knows what and I am nervous. Even a sophisticated player like me would feel a touch out of place in this group.  I couldn’t see it. “Frank, I…”

“I am aware that you don’t know me and may have a credibility issue but I assure you I cannot and do not lie. I have nothing if not my honesty and credibility.”  I got a chuckle out of that one.  A truthful televangelist.  I guess anything is possible. “It’s always exciting to try something new; have new experiences. Join us this evening.  I’ll have my driver pick you up at 7:30.  With a designated driver you’ll be free to enjoy the remarkable vintage wines I have selected from my cellar for this evening’s gathering.”

I guess whomever does his homework missed this one.  If he knows me so well he should know I am not a fan of the distilled grape; tastes like fruity Windex to me.  Actually I was pleased to see he did not know everything about me.  But hobnobbing with the glitterati?  And I now remember I had heard of Frank.  He backs idiot political candidates.  Yeah, that’s him a real asshole.  But why the hell not?  I’m a player.  Time to get into the game.  “What do I wear Frank?  I need more specifics.”

“I suggest pants, a shirt and shoes.  It’s just an informal gathering of friends.  I’ll introduce you to some wonderful and interesting people.  You and I will talk, in private.  I promise I am here to help.  The front door remains unlocked and the driver will take you home or anywhere you want to go at any time. No collection plate or pressure to convert. Simply a good time with good friends. Real friends you might not get to meet anywhere else.  We have some devout followers who are quite fervent in their belief. Don’t let hesitation or fear blind you to opportunities not open to others.  It’s your time.”

Wow, this guy is good!  But I’m better.

 

V.

The Calling

It has been a crazy three weeks.  I am standing on a stage in a television studio just minutes away from being on the air for the first time ever in my life.  While there are three networks covering this none of them are the ones I know.  All of them have a religious agenda and, according to Frank, a scary amount of viewers. Frank said he put the word out and the commercial networks are aware and will be tuned in so we may have to do a few more interviews today.  We want to catch the next news cycle. It has been announced the winner of one of the largest single jackpots in history, Ted Smith, will be addressing the nation tonight. So before I reveal myself, the real me, to the world as Frank suggested, I will catch you up.

I did go to the dinner party and was picked up in a stretch Navigator.  I shared it with three of Frank’s followers, Sylvia and the twins Rhonda and Roberta.  They were very interesting and told me about the worldwide crusade they are so proud to be a part of and explained about their fervent belief; how it led them to something I had not heard of before that night, glossolalia.

Sylvia explained, “You may know it as speaking in tongues.  It is a byproduct of our fervent belief.  When you are imbued with the Holy Spirit amazing things happen!”
“I’m afraid I am not that fervent about anything.” I tried to change direction, “Where are you all from?”

Rhonda cut in. “You are welcome to join us sometime.  You just don’t know until you open yourself up to new experiences. The Lord reveals himself to anyone who seeks truth. There is no requirement to be a true believer.  You will make up your own mind.” We turned onto a long semicircular driveway and were waived through the gates.  “We’re here. To be continued.”     

We exited the limo in front of a luxury mansion that may have been a palace.  I don’t think even my lottery winnings could finance a place like this. Frank greeted us at the door.  “I hope you learned a bit about us on the way.”

“I learned a new word, Glossolalia.”

“Yes, an interesting concept and quite real. The bible speaks of it in Corinthians 14: ‘Follow the way of love and eagerly desire spiritual gifts, especially the gift of prophecy. For anyone who speaks in a tongue does not speak to men but to God.’ We have a private chapel below.  Perhaps after dinner Rhonda and Roberta ,R-Squared as they like to be called, will feel like showing you how they seek to draw the spirit within.

“Again Frank, not really my thing, religious fervor.”

“You will find it interesting, as a secular educational experience.  Again, no locks on the doors and no requirements.  You have an opportunity to experience something new. You don’t need to figure anything out.  Just go with it!”

Dinner was fine.  Rockers and A-list actors seem to be just like you and me; people.  We talked about environmental issues, movies, music and somehow avoided politics. After dinner everyone drifted out to the garden for coffee and brandy and I suppose, eventually went home.  Frank invited me into his study for a private chat.
I settled into a soft leather chair with my glass of Napoleon Grande Fine Champagne Cognac that I was finding difficult to drink without gagging, yuck!
 “Amazing brandy, Frank!”

“It’s something not available to most people.  You should get used to that.  You are no longer most people.”

“I still feel like the same old Ted.”

“That’s what I wanted to talk about.  The ‘Old Ted.’  That Ted does not exist anymore. The sooner you embrace that the more time you can concentrate on living your life and spreading hope and joy.  Are you happy Ted?”

“I can’t think of a reason I would not be ecstatic.”

“Perfect. Then I am going to explain how to increase that happiness exponentially and share it with the world. Do you have enough money?”

“I don’t see how I could spend it all in two lifetimes.”

“Now that is a bit naïve,” Ted laughed. “   People with a lot more money than you have gone broke.  You are gliding down the highway and get lulled into a false sense of calm. The road takes a sharp unexpected turn and zap.  Next stop: an apartment in the valley and dinner at Denny’s.  I’ll get to the point.  Working together we can take what you have and double, triple or grow it beyond your imagination while spreading hope and joy. I am not talking about enjoying rare brandy and flashing a diamond Rolex.  I am talking about making a difference, being an inspirational leader, a guru to some, a king to others.”

For the first time in my life I was truly speechless.

“Ted, you have been blessed to receive a bounty that only a few in this world have or will ever experience.  If you share the experience and perhaps embellish the circumstances under which it all happened, the possibilities are endless.”

 “You mean if I lie. I’m a simple man Frank. Lay it all out.”

“Mark Twain said ‘Never let the truth get in the way of a good story’.  It is story telling in a manner to deliver the most impactful message.  Is it a lie if you tell someone their hair looks nice when it appears they just stuck their finger in a light socket?  You are mending a soul in pain with no motive other than to make them whole. If an alternate truth does no harm and succeeds in elevating your position and ability to help more in the future, isn’t that what we strive for in truth. ”

“But you have so much.  How much is enough? Why bother with me and my pittance?”

“I am an opportunity junkie, Ted.  If I see a possibility I must do all I can to make it happen. And of course I will be by your side and benefit from our actions so I too can expand my reach.  It enables me to do more good.  Scrap that give-away list.  In a year or two you can double the amounts and you will know who amongst them are your real friends. And as to your question about how much is enough, a great mentor of mine gave me the best answer for that: ‘More.’  Money and good deeds are limitless.

I turned as R-Squared walked into the room and for the second time today was speechless as they were both naked. “We are going into the chapel Ted if you care to participate.” They walked right on through to the stairs. As the descended Rhonda turned her head to me and said, “Glossolalia.”

“Frank, I am interested but now I feel set up.  Are they believers or are you there pimp?” Frank seemed genuinely surprised by my boldness which frankly surprised me as well. But he smiled.

“Ted, Rhonda has a Wharton MBA and manages a billion dollar hedge fund. Roberta has a Doctorate Degree in Comparative Literature from the Yale Graduate School of Arts and Sciences and is a popular guest lecturer. And in case you did not recognize their last name are the sole heirs to their father’s oil and gas fortune.  They do what they want.  They feel closer to the Holy Spirit without clothes. It works for many people.  There was no clothing in The Garden of Eden before the fall. We simply work and pray together. So everything in life is up to you.”

I nodded and headed for the stairs. Never having had anything concrete that I could call faith I hoped to feel something; be transformed by an out of body experience.  I entered the chapel and Rhonda and Roberta were holding hands and extended their free hands to me to form a circle.  I felt something the moment we touched. We spent an hour in the chapel with what I anticipated would be an educational experience focusing on Glossolalia.  I believe this might have been more of an atypical session as there was very little speaking but an abundance of tongues.  Dfeinately new to me.

So I hopped on board.  I am waiting to go on TV with my well-rehearsed impromptu speech.  Let me give you ESPN Highlight Reel of what Frank wrote for me:

• I am not the winner of the Lottery.
• I bought the ticket and collected the money but it was God who won.
• He tasked me to give the money only to the faithful.
• Those whom have sewn seeds of faith emerge from the shadows.
• He is angry my friends. He has run out of patience.
• The time to declare your faith is at hand. Come join us.

The lights go on.  The director counts down using his fingers as visual aids: “On in 3, in 2 in 1, go!”

“Good evening ladies and gentlemen, men and women of faith around the world.  I am Ted Smith, winner of one of the largest lottery jackpots on record.  My friend Reverend Frank has brought me here and suggested that I deliver my message directly to you and so I speak from the heart. What I have learned in that last few weeks is a culmination of a lifetime of experience.  Here are the five rules to live by:

1. Life is beautiful with family and friends by your side.
2. We are all God’s children regardless of who or what we worship, who or what we love.
3. We are all humans. Don’t listen to anyone who pretends to have all the answers.
4. Hate, fear and mindless loyaltyand adherence to an inflexible doctrine without question is dangerous.
5. Never buy more than one lottery ticket per drawing. More is a waste. If God wants to give it to you he only needs one.

I am just another man who is going to share what he has with friends, family and those in need.  And hopefully, as part of the journey, enjoy life.  Thanks for welcoming me in to your home.  Follow your heart.  If it seems to good to be true it probably is. Goodnight and good luck!”

Frank was livid. He was deep scarlet as he spit out “There will be consequences!  

“Wow Frank.  What are you going to do? Tell my wife? Don’t have one.  Get me fired?  No job.  Ban me from your church. But what about forgiveness if I repent?

“You forget Ted, or perhaps you didn’t realize I have video of you and the twins in the chapel.  That might make some interesting viewing. THERE WILL BE CONSEQUENCES!”

“You have video.  Burn me a few copies please.  That was something I never want to forget.  And as far as consequences, suck on this consequence for 10 minutes asshole!”  I strode out, not completely without fear of an errant bolt of lightening striking me in the back.

I feel great again.  Now I can get to spending and sharing.  I am so happy with myself I may even throw my ex-Queen of Mean a couple of bucks, for old times’ sake!  No. Sorry Margaret, that’s not going to happen.  There are consequences.

A Short, Short, Short Story in Two Parts

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UNDERSTANDING the rules upfront is sometimes important.  Examples:  When competing in an athletic event, playing a board game or participating in a contest where money or bragging rights are at stake.  In spousal conflict resolution, (previously called arguing with your wife/husband), rules are most important.   I have been told when engaged in a “constructive discussion”, (again, arguing), with your spouse do the following: stick with facts, refrain from name-calling, stay on point, no spewing more than one hateful accusation at a time, explain in agonizing detail, how that made you feel; feelings are crucial and tears an added bonus, and blah, blah, blah. That’s three (3) blahs.  Remember three, it becomes important in Part II.   Simply agree with me, there are a lot of rules in life and let’s move on.

To get through a day with your sanity intact, many rules tend to become exceedingly fluid.  We humans have a unique talent for interpreting anything, including rules, in a manner to justify whatever course of action we choose to pursue,  be it heinous, neutral or altruistic. We are always correct.  As Freud said, “Ego, am I right?”  Rule interpretation is an art rather than science learned in the school of hard knocks.

To not get bogged down in the muddy sinkhole of ambiguous rules suspend any preconceived notions about rules and simply accept the story as presented.  Don’t be concerned, I am not abandoning you to chaos.  There is one set of rules we will champion: “The Rule of Three.”  

 Alas, the opportunity for gridlock appears again. There are many axioms, formulas and tenets that have adopted the mystical power of three so which one is it?  The Survival Rule of Three refers to time, not individual parts.  It estimates that you can survive 3 minutes without air, three days without water and three weeks without food.  An alternate version includes three hours unprotected in severely inclement weather.  But that would make it the Rule of Four, my premise would crumble  and chaos ensue. Whew! Dodged that bullet.

A Millennial version also exists and classifies as lethal “Three minutes without a Smartphone and three hours without an Instagram Feed (replace Instagram with Facebook if you are over 40), and three days without a self-serving rationalization.

The more widely known Rule of Three states that stories, lessons or marketing grouped with elements presented in threes are more likely to be retained by the reader or viewer. The intended message will be more humorous, satisfying and effective.  Evidence of the power of three is rampant throughout history; three musketeers, three blind mice, Three Stooges (“Moe, Larry, The Cheese!”), three on a match, three wishes, Three Little Pigs***.   The Roman Triumvirate, the Chinese Triads, the Holy Trinity.  You do not have to use the number, just have three entities like the good, the bad and the ugly; Huey, Dewey and Louie; life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.  More?  Three coins in a fountain, three tries because third times a Charm, and Three Pole Dancers on the main stage of the Girls, Girls, Girls Gentlemen’s Club on Third Avenue Downtown (3 for 1 Drink Night Mondays from 6:00PM to 9:00PM. Three hours).  I believe my point is made.

For our purposes, this Rule of Three is very personal, the only real requirement being that you must work in the number three somewhere, anywhere. It is key, “Three Keys to the Kingdom! (You like that? I just made it up!)  And keep in mind the following three things:

• Rules are made to be broken.
• Break the Rules at your own peril.
• DON’T talk about Fight Club!

I will be your guide but others will speak, three others.  I have assembled a group of three misfits and rapscallions (I am bringing the word “Rapscallions” back into everyday use because it is comedy gold, more fun than saying Salsa, right Jerry?).  Part II of the story is not all about rules and as I have used the word “Rules” so many times a received a warning I from the IWP – Internet Word Police, instructing me to cut all further uses from the unfolding tale. (See Rules are made to be broken).

 Although examples in blocks of three are known to increase comprehension, foster better retention, are more satisfying, funnier and make a greater impact, life is often symmetrical requiring you to add a fourth…for Bridge say.  So…

Deal the cards.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

***There is some controversy regarding the provenance of “The Three Little Pigs.”   A persistent rumor that the story was taken from a real life event where the Pig’s Union NJ Local 888 had only supplied 2 pigs at the home building contractor’s request.  But the Union bosses, members of the NJ Mozzarella Crime Family, required the job site to hire a third pig to pad the payroll. The contractor was then forced to use sub-standard building materials and two of every three home built eventually fell.  Over time the anecdotal rumor became an allegorical tale of unsafe building practices.

Coming soon to a tablet or Smartphone near you:
Part II
The Rule Applied