Writer, Church leader, Eccentric Nut, Marketer

I'm Church Leader, Writer, Speaker, Marketer, Kindness Project Founder, Broadcaster and Superhero. But most important I'm a Husband, Father and a worshiper of Jesus.

7 November 2010

The Myth of Elsewhere

John grew up "Here". After brushing his teeth and combing his hair a satisfactory number of times, his father an adequate machinist, would tell John stories of "Elsewhere". John loved "Elsewhere" with all his heart. It was a beautiful, storied land with mountains that shone in the morning sunlight and valleys that smelled of sweet alyssum. Elsewhere, there were men who loved as he imagined love being. That perfect love that poets wrote idyllic sonnets about. A love that John had grown jealous of, being part of the unwashed masses subjected to a birth and rearing "Here".

Here was different than Elsewhere. The sunsets weren't as a red. It's streets were cracked and too many Hereians smoked. Not pipes either. They didn't think twice about it. Monsters really. There were problems Here... and There too. Sometimes John's Father would take the family station wagon "There". "There" had a modest mall where John's father could buy camping supplies for their trip Elsewhere. What a trip this would be. At the end of every month, there would be enough money left over to buy one piece of the expedition gear. A tent here... a Coleman burner there. But the problem with "There" were the Thereians. They were a rude and inconsiderate folk and thought only of themselves. John's father was sure that they had never heard of Elsewhere. You see, Elsewhere was a copious country that the small minds of Hereians and Thereians couldn't comprehend.

John grew to hate Here. And he loathed There.

John's father died. It was not a sad story except to say that hard times had hit Here. So much so that the tent had been sold to buy a stack of canned corn and the Coleman burner had turned into a side of There's finest beef to salt and preserve for the Hereian winter. But John's father's death was sad enough to send John driving for Elsewhere in the willed-wagon without so much as a goodbye. He cursed Here as he sped through town. He'd never "darken a doorway in 'There' again" he shouted as he tore a strip down the common Thereian streets on his mission to Elsewhere.

John drove and drove. The speeding ticket from an unfamiliar county he didn't know existed didn't deter John's zeal for Elsewhere. Finally he arrived. It felt...


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