This is the last of the collection of writings I-Alice gave me and I’m assuming it was also written by her. It refers to a Medicine Hat business, over which there was some controversy. As in all fables, there is a lesson to be learned.
A FABLE
Once upon a time a well-respected doctor passed away in a small city in Southern Alberta. He asked his son, “Continue the good deeds, do something so the name of my practice continues on untarnished.” During his lifetime, the older man had done his best to make a better world for the aged as he recalled the struggles of the pioneers in the area, knew of his own grandparents’ hardships. He left a bountiful legacy for his son as he whispered his last wishes to him.
The young man felt the power of prestige. He could now overcome any obstacle that might stop him from fulfilling his dream. He cried out to the universe as he pounded his chest. “Now I can do it!”
One day as he stood behind the Bingo hall, he looked down into the low-lying area. He was amazed to see that this area was surrounded by senior homes. He cried out in his booming voice, this is the year 2002 and I shall move fast.
I’ll buy a $450,000 boom machine. I’ll quickly put it in this thin-walled building before anyone notices. My objective is
“Let R’ Buck”
The time came when seniors could no longer tolerate the intrusion; they prayed that somehow their peaceful lifestyle would return. They begged for the booming machine to be turned down. But the young man stood firm. No one had power over him.
He cried out, “Let R’ Buck”
We are living in 2002. We can sell cocktails under a dollar — let young people overindulge. Their stomachs can be pumped. Let the seniors hear the young girls cry in the dark for help.
“Let R’ ‘buck!’” he shrieked to the outer space.
Years later in the early hours of the morning the young man went to meet his maker. He stood before St. Peter bent over in shame.
“Welcome,” cried St. Peter. “Your father has been waiting for you.”
The father came to greet his son with outstretched arms. The young man could not look into his father’s caring eyes. “Father,” he said, “I must confess I threw your lifetime dream to the wind. But remember Dad, we lived in the year of ‘Let R’ Buck’”
The father cried out, “My son, have you carried on the legacy of caring for the sick, the infirm? Did you build a care centre in honour of my name?”
The son’s voice came in a soft whisper. “No Dad, I was the brainchild of the Electric Road House.”