Clan of the Broken Banner -- Pt. 3

Two weeks later, while I was half engaged in eating a bowl of cereal before I left for school, I had another “daydream”. I imagined myself in downtown Seattle, next to what the locals call, “The Jungle”. It is a public park next to the iconic Smith Tower on Second Street. I had a friend who worked there as a security guard. He shared with me some horrific stories of riots, drugs, rape, and other crimes that happened during the late hours of the night. It was those stories that convinced me to go to college, but I digress.

I imagined that I was a pedestrian, walking down the hill between the Smith Tower and the Jungle, heading towards the Starbucks to get my morning fix. I heard a scream as I walked by the alley behind the Tower and saw a woman on the ground. Her sweater was torn down the back. A huge man stood over her pointing a switchblade at her throat. I ran in to the alleyway.

“Hey, get away from her!” I yelled, sprinting towards the man. The man froze and pointed the knife at me. In my supposed daydream, the man slashed his knife at me. I stepped back and grabbed the man’s wrist, locked it, flipped the man onto his back and then kicked the knife away from him. The woman got up and ran, calling for help.

The man was winded, but reached into his coat and grabbed a gun. Before he could pull the trigger, a UPS driver came out of nowhere, kicked the gun out of the man’s hand. A shot was fired, but missed both of us completely. I stood still, shocked that another would be so kind to assist me in my daydream.

“Grab the gun!” the UPS driver yelled. I grabbed the gun, handed it to the UPS driver, who then pointed it at the man's head. “One bad move and your gone,” he said. The man nodded and put his hands on his head. The UPS Driver motioned for the man to stand, and the man did so. “Turn around,” the UPS driver said. The man turned and the UPS driver pistol whipped him in the back of the head. The man fell unconscious and the UPS driver dissembled the gun in an instant.

“How did you do that?” I asked in my daydream.

"Where are you from?”

“Lynnwood,” I said. 

“What’s your name?”

“Kevin Bargrey. Why?”

“You’re not one of us, are you?

Then the dream ended.

That wasn't how my dreams were supposed to go! This was my daydream. I was supposed to be the hero! I was supposed to be the one asking questions and playing out simple, non detailed plots in my head.

But it wasn't a daydream.

Clan of the Broken Banner -- Pt. 2

749 BC Northern England

A father sat, dying upon his throne, unprepared to name his successor and future king of the people. The eldest of the three, Rinehart Blackbane swore claim to the throne, he being the stronger, older and more experienced of the three in battle. His fighting arm was uncontested in the kingdom. The second brother,  Amon BarGrey,  understanding his elders strength, conceded his claim to the throne, knowing that single handedly he could not defeat his brother. It would take time and planning to take what by intelligence, he deemed his own.

The third brother, Aodhan Whitehand was like his elder in strength, and though not as experienced in battle, felt that the kingdom should be divided amongst them, and that together, with an alliance, they could defend their rightful kingdoms.

But power is not shared lightly…

Before the king died, he called his three sons to him. “My sons, my sons, I soon go to meet the gods, and you are left with my kingdom.” Aodhan and Rinehart smiled while Amon shrugged. “But this kingdom shall not be given to one of you, but to the three, to Rinehart, the north, to Amon, from western shore to eastern shore, to Aodhan, the south. These three kingdoms will be unified equally by all three and you will be known as the clan of the three brothers.” He motioned to a servant who stood vigil next to his throne. The servant held a red pennant with three knots. “These knots represent you and your kingdom. As long as you are unified, your success will be limitless, but if one of you falls, then does the kingdom. Rule wisely.”

The debate concerning the successor was decided and the three brothers accepted it graciously.

Two weeks after the kings funeral, the three brothers counseled in their great hall about what portions of the castle would belong to whom, what resources would be traded amongst the three new kingdoms and the division of military to each kingdom.

As they were debating, and old sorcerer walked into their hall. He was a short, scraggly man, with missing teeth and stiff tangled hair. Rinehart stood and approached the man.

“What do you want? You were not invited to this council.”

“I may not have been invited by you, but I was invited.” Rinehart looked at each of his brothers, who shook their heads, signaling that neither of them had invited the man. “By your father…”

“But he has been dead two weeks. How is it he invited you.” Both Amon and Aodhan shook their heads at each other smiled. Aodhan was the first to speak up.

“He was invited to this council prior to our father’s passing. He is meant to be here.”  

Rinehart pretended to understand, but it was clear by his blank expression that he failed to grasp his father’s foresight.

“Your father was blessed with a gift given to him from the gods, one that I am going to pass to you three, and it shall be the last gift that is ever given to this world.”

“And what is this gift sorcerer?” Amon asked skeptically.

“It is the power to control others. It was what gave your father his overwhelming success in battle, and if used wisely, will defend your kingdom from the many afflictions that are to come.  But there is a choice within this gift. You may choose to control another completely, or control a populous partially, driving their desires, passions, and motives, but not their actions. Imagine leading an entire army without fear.”

“I wish to control many,” Rinehart said.

“As do I,” Aodhan followed.

“And you Amon, what is your choice?” the sorcerer asked.

Amon smiled.

“I choose one.” 

Narnia is Southwest Minnesota : A Haiku about Spring

It’s always winter


Never Christmas in Marshall

April snowstorms stink

Clan of the Broken Banner -- Pt. 1

I’m not crazy.

I have always had, or believed I had, this ability to see an event take place far away, as it was happening. Yesterday, for example, on my walk home from school,  I was supposedly caught in a day dream as my parental unit would say, and imagined what it would be like if a cougar came straight at me. In the middle of Lynnwood, this is highly unlikely and slightly dark, but I suppose that is all part of my “condition”.

 I imagined in my mind, taking a large piece of concrete that came free from a part of the sidewalk, and waving it at the cougar. When the feline would come too close, I’d bash its head in. I took this further in my day dream and imagined that I was in the woods, with my dog, if I had a dog, camping, and a cougar crossed my path. I would take out my trusty knife, if I had one, and perform the same menacing gestures towards the puma, warding it off.

When I got home, KOMO 4 at 4 was broadcasting a story of a boy who had saved his father from a mountain lion with nothing more than a hunting knife and a very loud voice. I would learn later that this was no coincidence; that my “condition” as my therapist called it, the quasi-schizophrenia, wasn't a condition, but a gift, and that my future was sealed to one of the greatest battles humanity would take part in, but never remember.  

I’m not crazy. 

Three Buckets of Better Business

Three Buckets of Better Business


Profits, people, and process these three buckets be

All blocking the path, between success and reality

Profits are needed, for business to succeed

But is impeded by the lack of customers, with wants and needs

Who are blocked by process, the bureaucracy of it all

Which can be removed by profits, and so we are at a stall

The old business model, is broken and useless

The financial and demand plans, its own hangman’s nooses

A new philosophy of problem solving, a paradigm shift

Is what will give our EBIT, its much needed lift

His Red Cape

Robert, my son has one thing he will not be parted from. His most favorite article of clothing is his red superman cape. He wears it everywhere; to school, to day-care, to church, to breakfast, to dinner, to his friend’s house, to grandma’s house, to the bath, to bed. His fascination for All-American Boy Scout, the Man in Blue, the Last Son of Krypton, goes beyond the point of boy-hood obsession, and verges on the precipice of schizophrenia.

Last week at the supermarket, my boy was sitting in the shopping cart as I was deciding which brand of spaghetti sauce to purchase. While I was debating if spaghetti should even be on the menu for that week, my boy put his hands up to his eyes like binoculars, and looked around.

“Mom, that lady gonna spill the cereal,” he said to me.

“You can’t see through walls,” I said nonchalantly, because I had said it a thousand times. Not one second after I said that, there was spill, a large one, in the aisle next to mine. I rushed over and saw an old woman lying down on the ground, the whole shelf of cereal fallen about her.

Captain Crunch mixed with Honey Nut Cheerios, shredded wheat mixed with all brands of chocolate covered breakfast delights, and in the midst of the General Mills medley, the woman lay on her back, unconscious. I called for help and before long, and checked for a heart rate. Long story short, the woman had a heart attack, was sent to the hospital and lived.

While on the way home from the grocery story, my son, placed his hands to his ears and looked out the window.

“Mom, the 7-11 is getting’ robbed by bad guys,” he said. I just shook my head.

“You’re hearing things. The 7-11 is fine,” I said.

“No mom, it’s getting robbed by bad guys. Wait, they’re gone now.”

That night, as I put my son to bed, I turned on the news. Sure enough, the woman in the grocery store made the local headline news at ten, and after that story, was the 7-11, and how it was robbed.

“Coincidence,” I told myself. I heard the fridge opening. Thinking it was my son, I walked to the kitchen to put him back to sleep.

Two men in ski masks with guns were helping themselves to the gallon of milk that I just bought. I looked at them too scared to move. They pointed theire guns at me and told me to sit in the chair. One of them grabbed my hair and pulled my head back.

“Hey!” I heard my son call out from the staircase. I looked, seeing him in his superman cape, glaring at the two intruders.

“Go back to bed Robert, Mommy is going to be fine!” I cried to him. One of the robbers snickered and ran after him. I screamed. Robert scrunched his face, put his fists on his hips and puffed out his chest. As the robber grabbed him, Robert spat in his face and then punched the robber between the eyes. The robber lost balance and fell backwards down the steps. Robert ran down and looked at the other intruder.

“You let her go!” he yelled, still maintaining his strong will. In a split second, the intruder pointed the gun at Robert and fired. I screamed, but Robert still stood, unharmed. I couldn’t watch. I clamped my eyes shut as the burglar emptied the clip into Robert. When I opened my eyes, Robert still stood, his fists on his side.

“What!” the burglar whispered.

“Let… her… go!” Robert said, calmly. The burglar did, and ran out the front door.

Robert, my son has one thing he will not be parted from. His most favorite article of clothing, his red superman cape… and that’s fine by me.

Arrogance and Naïveté : Generation Me

When you are finished reading, start reading again from the bottom up.

Arrogance:


They are endorsing them for skills never witnessed

They are listing skills that experience has never shared

College graduate, worked at a burger joint, skills of training and management

All they did was take cash at the window

Instruct the manager on how to make more burgers

Places fancy words behind it

The only passion was getting out, getting ahead, getting up,

Climbing, upward, higher and higher,

The rungs of the ladder, the backs of those who made a difference

Not knocking the foundation, but the entitlement of title and six figures

Perhaps the six figures should include the two digits after the decimal point

People with decades of experience, seeking new talent, new passion,

The experience will come is what is said,

The knowledge will come is what is said,

The salary will come, they hear,

The promotions will come they hear,

Trust the aged, and experience, the way will be clear,

Though they have never been to the top

They’ve seen it happen

Too much introspection, not enough retrospection

Perhaps there is underemployment

Perhaps too many jobs were passed by

Perhaps it is desperation

Perhaps it is realization

Realizing that they can only lead if they know where they are going

They can only know where you are going if they have vision

The only vision they see is success

They don’t know how to get there

And they don’t know the rules

Walking into the middle of a monopoly game

And they have brought chess pieces and a deck of cards

While checking the king in free parking

And cornering his queen on “Go”

And then claiming they’ve won

They haven’t won anything

Naïveté