It has been brought to my attention that my writing in what has become known as “The Gospels” is thin and shrill and not interesting without personal experience. That I have the words, music and moves down but no testing no failing with which to give them substance.
I was once told by this Beautiful young lady dressed like a queen in a brand new Mercedes “The love of money is the root of all evil.” as she handed me a dollar bill and sped away as the light changed. I looked and there was the paper dealer tag on it. It was Sunday morning and I just got my Sunday School lesson for the week. I just stood there a moment self conscious I had on my best suit of clothes, my only suit of clothes that I had been wearing at least a month. I slowly turned my sign around and read it ‘out loud’ Hungry Homeless! What had prompted such a response from the Lady? Did she or was she referring to her own lust for money or was it me she thought was money hungry. I have often thought of that early Sunday morning encounter… well at least on Sunday mornings when i would hear those distant Church bells ringing.
Money is the root of all evil. Well, I guess I have been quite fortunate in that regard as I have never had much money. Not that I think that money would change me one bit. However, I am quite certain that a lot of money would change my circumstances drastically and immediately. Recently I read another version of that statement ” the lack of money is the root of all evil” said by some guy named Mark Twain. I just wonder if mayhap I misunderstood the Lady in the Mercedes with the southern drawl. Had I wrestled with my consciousness all this time over something that I misunderstood? Well things were looking up as Now I could be free to think of having a lot of money, I mean a LOT of money in the future.
So I set about finding out how to accumulate large amounts of wealth. I started with those who had done just that, those who had started with nothing. I was in desperate need of their secrets. I came across one in particular that stuck in my mind. It was Walter P. who lived in Salt Lake City, Utah. A little unimposing man of about 40 who still lived in his childhood home and like the home his job too was inherited from his Father. He was employed sown at the factory as maintenance mechanic. When He was not at work he was out in his front yard with some piece of equipment is a state of disassembly or assembly as he loved to take things apart then put them back together. This was in the early 1900’s and there was no cars in the neighborhood if you went closer to the downtown area you could hear the putter of an occasional model T and see one at a distance going down the road.
Then one day as they say ‘out of the blue’ Walter put in for a two week leave from his job, went to the bank and drew out his entire savings in cash. He was seen the next morning walking down to the train station with two suit cases where he bought a ticket to New York City. He boarded the east bound train and was last seen sitting there by the window waving to an acquaintance. Then in the usual cloud of steam and smoke with a loud shrill whistle and the conductors voice ALL ABOARD!!! the sound of CHOOO! CHOO! the steam being released in Loud Hisses from the engines, Walter P. was gone from Salt Lake City, in a cloud of grey smoke.
~ To Be Continued ~