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Author: Mike Maples

Monday, February 10, 2014

Hero

"They're gonna rip you apart; you're going to burn at the stake. 'Cause when it's time to collect, it's only heroes that pay." Hero by Ministry.

When I was very young, somewhere between 7-10 years old, my grandmother took me to a fair in Lafayette, Indiana, also known as the glorious place of my birth and spring break capital of the world. As dusk approached, we finished off an elephant ear and made our way through the droves of corn-fed white trash and Purdue students towards our car. Near the exit, I was quick to notice an old Chevy S-10 with a camper shell and a homemade sign that read "FORTUNE TELLER & TAROT," tacked to the side. When I think of a legitimate business, I think "vehicle-based" and "county fair," in that order.
Seems legit.

I had no concept of what a fortune teller was at that age, but I begged my grandma to let me get my fortune read anyway. She reluctantly paid the college-aged kid dressed like a gypsy (cross-cultural turban included), then subsequently allowed him to take me into the back of his camper.

The camper interior had all of the trimmings of a mysterious clairvoyant: windows blacked out with faux-silk curtains, a glowing crystal ball atop a used bath mat in the center, and other various pedophile psychic wares. Looking back, I now see how poor my grandma was at watching over children.

Here is how a fortune-teller versus preteen child conversation goes:
"Do you want to know about your past, present, or future?"
"Future."
"What do you want to know about your future?"
"I don't know."
"What do you want to be when you grow up?"
"I don't know."
This false gypsy was palpably seething. Already, this was going well. He sighed in frustration and continued.
"OK, well lets see what is in the cards for you."
He laid out the tarot cards, has me select a few from each of the different piles he has created, and then assesses them.

Looking back on the past 30 years, it is haunting what this kid with a Johnny Depp mustache told me after arranging these wrinkly tarot cards. He was clearly only doing this gig to capitalize on the normal cretins that populate the average local fair. However, the memory of the following experience resonates with me so much that it is downright spooky.

The first card he flipped was The Fool. I was told that my path through life will be an unconventional one, fraught with errors and successes as the Fool walks his own path.

Pretty generic, but I'm down for squeezing the events of my life into this corset. He continues.

The next few cards turn, one of which is the Four of Cups. The gypsy said, "you will find love early in your life with a tall woman from a different place, and she will somehow be related to water. But while the love may be permanent, the relationship will not be." He then reveals the Death card, I suppose to symbolize the end of this relationship.

That one cuts to the bone now, though thankfully not to the child-me of then.

The next card referred to my future as a working man. The Knight of Cups. "You will do many things throughout your life in search of what makes you happy," the gypsy reads. "But you may never find that exact thing." Next was the Tower. The Knight of Cups symbolizes one that is prone to fleeting ideas and pursuits, not all of which work out due to boredom. The Tower means destruction. So fuck me.

Awesome and correct thus far, as much as it pains me to admit it now. I was a medic for years, bouncing around many different medical specialties to try and find a niche for myself. I was in the military. I have gone to real estate school, culinary school, and several colleges for several vocations, such as nursing and information technology. I write fiction, political rants, social satire, and this shitty blog. I do stand up comedy. I work as an IT guy. I want to be a philanthropist and work with charities. Basically, I'm a persistent fuck up that cannot make decisions.

Finally, this gypsy-kid turned the last card. The Knight of Wands. He says, "you will be a hero."

Goosebumps, then and now.

Before you jump neck-deep in my ass about the asinine qualities of tarot, please understand these three things: First, I'm Agnostic. I don't believe in this shit any more than I believe in whatever your shit might be. Second, even if it was a legitimate science (and why not? Here's to you, theology!), I understand that tarot cards work exactly like anything written by Nostradamus: their meanings are totally malleable and can be shaped to fit whatever scenario you have in your life. Third, I know that this false gypsy could have been lying to me about the meanings of each of these cards and didn't give two fucks about giving me an accurate fortune-telling. He was about as mystic as I am.

If you can't trust me, who can you trust?

But the words he said are unmistakably coincidental to actual events in my life.

Maybe my being a hero implies my past in civilian healthcare or my stint as a Corpsman in the Navy. Maybe it pertains to something that hasn't happened yet. I don't usually believe in this shit, but it does make me think about my life as it stands right now.

I've been teetering on the edge of quitting comedy. Although I love it more than anything, I think I have shirked off some of the responsibilities that I have as a man and father, and I need to prioritize. Hopefully, this only means finding a better balance between Mike the Dad, and Mike the Comic.

That said, I'm still in the game and have already sworn that 2014 will be the year that I do something meaningful with my life in the service of others. I feel like I need to do something.

I need to start the NPO that I keep rattling on about. I need to travel around the brilliant country of the United States of America and help people here at home rather than abroad, a mission that I think far too few people actually take up. I want to make a difference in people's lives that matter beyond making them laugh or getting their computer to work properly. The typical adult male life of working, coming home, sleeping, and repeating cannot be all that life on Earth has to offer me.

Somehow, I find myself capable of many things and interested in much more, yet still generally unhappy. Is there no career that I can combine my lust for creativity, a troublesome mouth, skills in medicine and technology, a passion for argument, current events, and the desire to make a meaningful difference in the lives of everyone I possibly can?

No. Probably not.
"The hero marches alone across the highway of death..." Hero by Ministry.


Attributions:
I AM STEVE, hosted @ flickr.com (CC BY-NC-SA 2.0)
ThePicMan, hosted @ flickr.com  (CC BY-NC-SA 2.0)

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