The essence of the ’'the greatest father' has eluded humankind until now. As the final prodigy to embrace that, which is untainted truthfulness, I have violated antiquated decrees to share this story of how it had to be.

So, it will be endlessly. MJM.

Aeons before mortality embraced the relevance of time, dwelled “The Greatest Father.” So inspiring were his powers that he forged three magnificent sons in his likeness. Each of whom he loved and treated equally. His love was boundless. He sculpted an aura of opulence and generosity far superior to their youthful and innocent comprehension. Misfortune, agony, and uncertainty were nonexistent.

Since the flash of their creation, each son passionately absorbed the father’s ideologies. The essence of their being embraced the harmony of the natural world, tolerance of diverging ideals, and infinite compassion.

As glorious as the father was, he was steadfast in his belief that for his sons to be superb leaders, they had to be discreetly inspired to embrace a modest affection for uniqueness. To achieve this, he dedicated secluded time with each of them. Albeit, clandestine.

The intimate encounters would occur in the late hours of darkness. 'the greatest father' would cautiously enter his first son’s extravagant sleeping chamber; watchful not to cause a sound that would disclose his whereabouts.

During his tailored visits of enlightenment, he cradled his son tenderly in his powerful arms and hinted he was the brightest, bravest and best loved of his sons.

To the son, this tender whisper of inspiration confirmed that he alone would inherit the father’s governance of wisdom, morality, and enormous wealth. The only provision the father demanded was that he must never tell his brothers or anyone else about their cherished times together.

Elated and often child-like, the son would smile and eagerly confirm his faithfulness. He loved and worshiped his father. After many such meetings, he grew to assume he was the logical heir.

As the first son gave way to tranquil slumber, ‘the greatest father’ wrapped him in elegant coverings, kissed him tenderly on his forehead, and withdrew soundlessly from his room. Once outside, he traversed a lavish passageway adorned in precious gems into the bedchambers of his second, then third, son.

At each encounter, he restated the identical inferences to his other sons. Not unlike his brothers, each willingly embraced his father’s words of honesty, and submitted gladly to his requests for keeping their secretive pact. After all, they too revered their father, and were pleased that he alone was the favored son.

So clandestine were these interludes his sons had never suspected his cunning plan. Nor did they ever disclose to one another the secret union each believed they alone experienced with their father.

As youthful formative years surrendered to the prime of being, 'the greatest father' was confident his sons were comparable in stature, wisdom, ideology, and compassion. Certain of their entitlement, the brothers agreed the time had come to leave home.

They would set off in dissimilar directions to spread the wisdom given to them by the father; each self-assured that they alone held the supreme secrets of being the favored child.

Before their father granted his permission for them to leave, he assembled them together to convey his final counsel. In his familiar and passionate manner, he said to them,

“Your journey is the dawn of unfamiliar endeavors. It can be one of great glories, or profound consequences. The decision is yours. I have embedded in each of you the ideals, resilience and foresight you will require to enlighten others. Although my material presence will not be with you, I will forever know of your deeds. I will always be available to each of you, essentially as your father, but also as a mentor. Choose your decisions prudently, for in the end, I will judge all."

As destined, the sons were granted leave to embark and fulfill their extraordinary journeys. Alone, for the first time in a world never known to them, they energetically proclaimed the doctrines they were taught to those branded as mortal.

In the beginning, they edified the father by conveying his news word-for-word; gladly welcoming the admiration from those he enlightened.

It was not long, however, before they became emboldened by their success. Without malice, they enhanced their father’s teaching with their innermost ideals. They viewed these modest changes as adapting to the diversity of their growing crowds of admirers.

Across ages, as humankind interprets the seasons of life, each son amassed vast dominions of enthusiastic companions and devoted followers. All certain, the son they followed would be bestowed the wisdom, reverence and opulence of ‘the greatest father.’

So it began. Tribulation from beliefs of these diverse teachings arose as communities vehemently rebuffed philosophies revealed to them by confidants of the other brothers. Fully aware of the dividing discourse, each brother remained steadfast that the obedience of his devoted admirers was fulfilling the destiny set forth in the nightly visits by their father.

Emboldened, each son failed to notice that many of their faithful companions were also slanting their teachings to gain personal riches, and declare dominion over the floundering nomads.

Hordes of supporters served blindlessly to the son, with the largest assemblies of devotees. Clusters tagged along to one group, hoping to avoid any retribution from the father. Others remained silent and confused by the differing teachings. After all, weren’t they brothers, and each heir of the same loving father?

To fulfill what they understood as their father’s true intentions, each son proclaimed himself the sole righteous heir. There would be no endeavor for compromise.

Soon, scrimmages led to feuds. Wars to genocide. Bigotry thrived. Peace and open-mindedness were elusive. Sorrow consumed the most solemn devotees seeking to alter the pointless chasms.

As 'the greatest father' watched the absurd chaos; he wept. He often wondered why his sons embraced hatred, power, and bias instead of love, forgiveness, and tolerance. Far from his hopes of a modest affection for uniqueness.

More distressing was why his beloved sons never worked together, endorsed harmony, asked him for guidance, or requested to share his immense fortune between them—which he freely would have welcomed. Instead, they craved sole control and personal glorification.

Weary of the antagonism, endless abandonment to reunite, biased teachings, and profound absence to encourage tolerance and coexistence, 'the greatest father' ponders: “Has the time come to start over?”

Again!

I’M 70 TODAY … hip-hip-hooray

Dear frayed and tainted diary,

Today is July 9th and this is my nineteen thousand two hundred and seventy-third entry to your hallowed pages. As my covert amigo, I have inscribed on your page's enigmas I have yet to share with anyone. In case you didn’t know today is the oldest birthday I have secured, and you will not believe the crap racing through my mind.

Foremost, seventy is a milestone far unlike previous birthdays where I had a readiness to reach; such as legal drinking age, emotionally prepare for my dreaded 40th, and believe it or not, chasing the date when I qualified for Social Security and early retirement. Those were birthdays that had a purpose, but seventy?

I even rechecked past calendars and there is no reference for today. Nor do I recall ever thinking about it. It is as if I was mysteriously transported overnight from my sixties to seventy—obviously bypassing my ‘golden years’ euphoria.

Don’t get me wrong I am glad to be alive and recognize that billions of others have passed this plateau, and billions more will follow me. I also remember and honor the friends and family that sadly never touched attaining half my age.

Nonetheless, this birthday has been eerily unlike any other! I didn't wake up sensing I had changed from who I was yesterday. Nor was it the reflection of the old man staring back at me in the mirror. Today has been a day of reconciliation between who I think I am, and the truth. It is the first time I’ve acknowledged I am old, and the overwhelming fact is I will only get older. The roughest part is knowing there is nothing I can change.

Forget the psychological crap that “You’re as young as you feel” or “relish the Golden Years.” I am far from the active person I once was. Cataracts are preparing to bloom, I’m probably a candidate for a training bra, joints are inflamed and worn; internal circuitry is crumbling, skin and cartilage have succumbed to gravity, and memory loss is no longer a random occurrence.

In truth, for the first time, I feel vulnerable. At seventy, I have to accept that I am the old man in the picture, succeeding my father and grandfather who journeyed this path before me. I grasped how swiftly decades of my life have passed. Once and for all, I comprehended that there are fewer days ahead of me than the number in my past.

Nevertheless, I will strive to be optimistic as my mind and body prepare to follow the aging standard. Even so, I do not intend to mark my calendar for the next milestone birthday; having my one-hundred-year-old face pasted on a Smucker’s jelly jar.

Okay diary, that’s enough rambling for one thought-provoking night.

Goodnight old friend—please remember to keep a blank page open for me.

[ps:] As customary, don’t get hung up on my grammar mishaps, life is too short. What’s more important to me is that you remember the message.