Little Bird Told Me

Chapter One

Leaving Home

Feeling at their last, bigoted straw, Steven Colt, Sr., and his wife, Lydia, were assessing whether to kick their son, Steve, out of the house for his drug habit and his chronic scholastic underachievement. The young man’s inability to apply himself in school was caused by his general confusion and bewilderment about how to manage his education. With an undetected learning disability and no fitting mentorship, there was little to be done to ensure his success. Steve’s efforts were significant, but without proper guidance they brought him no due success in school. Even worse, he did not learn how to relate to students or teachers.

Colt and his wife were opinionated, yet vague, when explaining their agenda to their Steve. They had all but decided that he would have to leave, but wanted to give him a few last chances to redeem himself, as if he were the dark horse in a race and might yet win back their favor if he ran the course well.

So, Steve naïvely attempted to patch up his relationship with his parents. He wanted to raise their spiritual sensitivity by taking them to see a favorite guru of his who had arrived from India to visit their town. The Guru was, as most gurus are, a pacifist and had even known Mahatma Gandhi. However, both of these facts were contrary to his parents’ mindset, and the only thing Steve’s plan achieved was to further irritate them.

During one hot, oppressive afternoon, as they all sat in the living room discussing the prospect of hearing the Guru speak, Steve’s father said, “We’ll listen to this Guru of yours talk. But I’ll tell you now, there’s no need for us to learn about these vain, pagan habits and idolatrous ceremonies. I don’t think it will help, but we’ll go along with it.” As he spoke, a globule of spit flew from his lips and landed on the toe of Steve’s left shoe.

Steve said ardently, “Pacifism is never a vain pastime and the gods of India, like Brahma, Vishnu, and Siva, are fantastically surreal and interesting. It’s not just idol worship, but true religion!”

“You are an elaborate dreamer with fanciful thoughts; your concepts are all wrong! I don’t know why you believe in pacifism!” Lydia asserted, stomping her foot as if to smother Steve’s passion for innovation.

Steve felt stifled and inadequate. He worried, and not for the first time, that perhaps he was being irrational and the worry made him go pale. He swallowed past the hollowness in his throat and declared, “The fruits of pacifist revolution will change the world!”

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