The Long Way Around

The fire three dancing shadows around the walls of the cave, shadows of the 
men who huddled around it for warmth; it was bitter cold outside.

The old man, hunched over, sipping hot broth out of a crude wooden 
bowl was Skotzoom.  You could see the reflection of the fire in his 
eyes as he looked questioningly at the two who had just arrived.  They 
looked tired, haggard, hungry and cold.  They had been traveling for days 
in search of this old man -- Skotzoom, but now that they had found him, 
all they could think of was the healing warmth of the fire.  In fact, for 
the moment, it was more important than their reason for being there.

Finally, the old man finished his broth and put down his bowl.  "You're 
welcome, of course, but who are you? he asked.  "Why have you come to this 
desolate place to see me?" 

"Forgive me.  Let me introduce myself," offered the shorter one as he 
extended his hand in friendship.  "My name is Utch."

"And my is Tsagh," said that other with a similar gesture.  

"Fine, now I know you by name," said the old man.  "But why have you 
come?"

Utch looked toward Tsagh knowingly and after a few seconds turned 
toward the old man.  "Sire, Tsagh and I represent the divided remains 
of a once great race of people.  History acknowledges that we hold a 
place of prominence in the ancient world.  A few centuries ago, 
however, we were conquered by a wild nomadic race of savages.  Instead 
of defiling us and passing through, they decided to keep our beautiful 
country as their own.  Since that unfortunate time in our history, we 
lived in subjugation until" -- Utch paused as emotion gripped him.

"Until what?" prodded Skotzoom.  "Don't just leave it hang there."  

"Well, Sire," Tsagh said as he regained his composure.  "Until, 
because of the unforgivable provocation of Utch's political friends, 
these savages fell on us again and almost massacred us into 
extinction.  The few of us that survived came to this friendly land 
and we've since been trying to repair our faith and culture.  Though 
one would assume that the worse is behind us, this is not the case and 
also the reason for our being here.  Sire, we find our youth being washed 
away into this new mainstream.  No matter how hard we try, we can't stem 
it.  We have endured to much for too long to be destroyed so painlessly 
and so subtly.  We have heard of your great wisdom; we came here for 
your counsel.  Can you help us?"

"Patience," said the old man calmingly as he turned toward the other.  
"Well, Tsagh, do you have anything to add to what your friend Utch said?"

"What Utch said is true," replied Tsagh, "except that he omitted a few 
things.  First of all, let me clear the air.  Utch and I are not friends. 
We joined in our search for you out of mutual desperation.  As to his 
account of how we were conquered and subjugated, I find no fault.  I do  
however, take issue to his explanation of how it was because of the 
provocations of my political friends that we were massacred.  In truth, 
while my friends were trying desperately to free our people from centuries 
of brutal enslavement which Utch has already acknowledged, he nor his friends 
lifted a finger to help us.  Beyond any shadow of a doubt, it was because 
of their cowardly neglect that we failed.  As it turned out, our enemy 
killed us all.  He didn't take the time to sort the Utch's from the 
Tsagh's.  My people will never forget, nor will we rest until we get 
our nation back and avenge our dead -- with or without Utch's people, 
and even if it takes till eternity."

"But," interrupted the old man, "your young are also washing away.  
Is this correct?"

"yes, yes, of course, that's why we're here," responded Tsagh, somewhat 
subdued.

"Here," said Skotzoom as he handed each a bowl.  "Drink some of this 
hot broth and bed down near the fire.  I think we can do better if 
we're all rested.  Besides, something that took this long to happen 
can wait until morning to resolve."

Morning was cold and damp in the cave.  The old man was up first.  He 
had built up the smoldering fire and was busy stirring a pot of boiling 
meal.  As the cracking fire warmed the cave and the gurgling sound of 
the boiling pot filled the silent voids, the two rested travelers pulled 
at their covered and opened their eyes.

"Good morning," greeting the old man cheerfully.  "It seems that you've 
both rested well.  Come sit up by the fire and share some of this hot 
porridge with us.  I'm sorry I have nothing better to offer," continued 
the old man, "but that is also a part of the answer you're looking for."

"I don't understand," said Utch as he sat us.

"Nor do I," yawned Tsagh as he came forward.

"Oh, it's quite simple," said the old man after his two guests were seated 
by the fire.  "All I have to offer you is this simple meal made of wild 
grain.  It is all that grows on this barren mountain.  Though it's 
nourishing, it's tasteless.  Since we are hungry and this is all we have,
we gratefully eat it, we have little choice.  Were you at home however, 
I'm sure your wives would have your tables filled with an abundant variety 
of foods.  I wouldn't doubt that both of you would pass over this humble 
gruel for something tastier."

"Humph!" mumbled Utch as he looked at Tsagh.  "We've come all this way 
to find out we can eat better at home."

"For God's sake," Tsagh challenged.  "What does what we eat have to 
do with our problem?"

"It has everything to do with your problem," responded the old man, 
obviously annoyed.  "Everything," he emphasized.  "Just keep your 
mouths closed, your ears open and listen.  Stop interrupting me.  

"Life my dear friends," he went on, "is made up of choices -- whether 
it's the food we eat or anything else.  Every choice we make relates to 
the future, t5hough it's oftentimes the past that influences these 
choices.  When we eat, we feed time.  When we make choices, we feed 
the future."  The two men listened, absorbing every word the old man spoke.

"Life is like a table," Skotzoom continued.  "But instead of it being 
lined with food, it's lined with future experiences.  Some we plan for 
and place on this table, while others are placed there by fate, through 
no choice of our own, as with the tragic past of your people.  Time and 
situations force us to take from this table, sometimes through choice, 
as with your tables at home, or with little or no choice -- as with 
my humble porridge in this cave."

Utch and Tsagh looked at each other.  They realized why this clever old 
man had placed so much importance on his porridge.

"Your attitudes would indicate to me," Skotzoom continued, "that you have 
been taking too much from your old table and placing it onto your new.  
Is it any wonder that your young pass over the old for something tastier? 
Wouldn't you, if you were young and not blinded by hate?  

"Remember the table your youth takes from today abounds in choice.  If 
you want to survive time, what you place on that table must be tastier 
than all the rest.  Garnish it with fresh new challenges more 
benefitting your young.  Don't let desperation motivate you.  Find 
ways of helping each other.  You both want and love the same basic 
things.  I'm sure all of your unresolved issues are important and 
need resolving, but it seems you have enough to do just holding on to 
the present.  In fact, I believe that the issues that are dividing and 
destroying you today would be better handled by your young tomorrow.

"And finally, when you leave here, don't feel sorry for me because 
of how I live -- and by God, don't ever make fun of me.  Both of you 
have been living in your own kind of cave, except with one small 
difference, I live in my cave by choice."



Author's Note:  I wish I could tell you how this story turned out.  
Maybe when the first thaw comes, we should all come down from our 
mountains and find out.


Joseph Vosbikian