Tutor has told his young charge, Audrey, a bedtime story, a made up story about her favorite heroine, whose name happens to also be Audrey, a girl her age, with red hair like hers, who lives as she does in a Castle, and whose Momma owns most of the earth. The Audrey in the story also has a Rescue Dog, named Rex, as the does the real Audrey, and both have freckles and unruly red hair. The Audrey in the story set out to Save the World, since she already owned it, and rules it. It is not clear how she completes her Quest, because the real Audrey fell asleep, and the story ended with, "And Audrey and Rex and Audrey's Mom, and Tutor, and Cook, all lived happily ever after." The real Audrey drifted into sleep with an angelic half smile, a girl without a Real Dad, who feels, and is, much loved.
Love lives "in minute particulars" as William Blake said of poetry; the love of one kid, one dog, one Momma, and even one Cook and one Tutor. From the habits of the heart so formed, a child may thrive all her life, drawing on that secret store. And if she is a rich kid, maybe she can love those who have less, or nothing at all, as she loves those closest to her, and in loving them, save them. Is that part of the story? Tutor thinks so, but he is almost alone in the world of Dynastic Family Wealth Governance, which suggests that for the rich to save themselves is a big enough job in itself. At least it is Job One, lest dynasties last less than 100 years, like a great deep rooted sliver beech, and the heirs of the heirs' heirs have to get a job. For Tutor, a priest of sorts, true teaching is a gift, in the circuit of the gift, from grace, to gift, to gratitude, and back again, up and down and around. From those who charge more you get less. "And," Tutor mutters, eyes flashing, "from those who charge most you get least. What these Wisdom Consultants to Dynastic Wealth are selling is not a pig come to market, but the holy spirit who brooks no sale. And they know it, being wise, and they do it, being who and what they are."
You can see why, back in the day, Tutor, as Dungeon Master to the Stars in Wealth Bondage, was considered by some a Satirist, one of the cruder sort whose patients often died in agony, strapped to the wooden table, or whipped, beyond pleasure, or broken upon the rack for the edification of the masses, or hung, drawn and quartered, or just beheaded with the head then impaled on a spike. Only now in his dotage does he limit his Noble Trade to sermons and bed time stories.
"Love is the only answer, and for love alone I ply my trade. May God forgive me for all the Kings I have flattered, the Courtesans I have pimped, the Wealth and Wisdom Advisors whose humbuggery I have let pass unchallenged, and the pleasure I have taken in inflicting pain on those who deserve it. Even now, what I would give to preside at just one more beheading, or maybe even an entire Dynastic Family! So many miscreants; in America alone the candidate list is endless and growing because these families already last so long, like an invasive species, crowding out the republic and civil society. So hard to pick just one subverter of the Republic. The Judgment and Sentencing. The long wait languishing in prison. Then, the long solemn procession, the walk up the steps to the stage, the condemned one pleading, me giving the final blessing, along with some unlooked for moral approbation, then nodding to the headsman, the hush that falls over the crowd, awaiting the satisfying thump of the head into the wicker basket...." So, Tutor, the Penitent prays, after hours, in his dank cell, his soul wrestling with his Maker.
If you would like to support Tutor and his Important Work, please send me the money. I will be sure he gets it, net of a flat per gift handling charge and a reasonable percentage-based agency fee, subject to certain per gift minimums.
