My Spiritual Quest for Meaning

Mitzi and I finally decided that it was time to sell our house and move into a condominium in Leisure World in Maryland. Preparing for the move was an arduous task. We had to move three floors of accumulated stuff into a space smaller than one floor in the condo.

This required soul-searching, as to which items should be sold, destroyed, or taken to the new place. The task was especially difficult, when I confronted the enormity of items that my father insisted I take or left to me in his will. He was an antique dealer and filled the house with beautiful and, sometimes, strange items. He once came to my house with an antique fireman’s axe. I asked him what do I need this for. He replied that you will find a purpose. Well, after 40 years, the purpose became clear. I would have to ask anyone I met whether he or she wants a fireman’s axe.

Only one of my father’s items took me by surprise. I took down from the basement shelf, two fishing tackle boxes. Both were about the same size, made from fiberglass, had a handle, and two metal snaps to keep the boxes closed. The first was light grey and filled to the brim with of hooks, surface lures, small jigs, and light spoons and spinners, as I expected. The second light blue box was the same size but somewhat heavier. I opened the box and it was also filled with tackle. I pulled out all of it to find a shocking discovery. It the bottom of the box was an unopened bottle of Michelob beer that was asleep for at least 60 years.

I examined the bottle with care. It was squat, clear brownish colored glass. At the top was a metal cap, protected by a gold colored foil. Its label sad: “TWIST OFF OR USE OPENER”. In the center it said: MICHELOB BEER FLORIDA. A second label informed me that it was 12 fluid ounces and produced in the U.S.A. It also said: “Store in a cool place” and “serve at 40 45° F”. Melted into the bottom of the bottle was:“Please Do Not Litter” and “NO DEPOSI T NO  RETURN”.

I felt like an archeologist, as I stared into the bottle. I could clearly see on one side of the bottle there was a black cloud, just above the bottom of the bottle, disappearing beneath the top label. It seemed stuck to the one side since it moved little when I shook it.

I sat there, weighing the pros and cons of opening the bottle. Finally, I made my decision and quickly twisted the cap off the bottle. The dark basement lit up as a blinding red light emerged from the bottle. The glass shattered from the heat as the light dimmed. In its place were the remaining fragments of red and yellow light, from the explosion, punctuated with a seven-foot dark cloud, leaning forward, towards me, menacingly,

I was lucky to avoid injury by dropping the bottle quickly. I thought I was safe, but, as I stared at this dark, sparkling cloud, it began to take human form, I became more frightened than ever before. Still, I made up my mind to courageously absorb some of the cosmic knowledge that this supernatural creature must possess. The creature gazed at me with bloodshot eyes, still glowing, in the swirling black smoke. Its facial wrinkles and expression revealed its pain. As it opened its mouth, showing its black, broken teeth, I took my chance and interrupted it before he could say a word!

I sought to ask for the answers that I have been seeking: Is there a God? Is there a soul? What is the meaning of life? Is there an afterlife? Are there planets with intelligent life? Why are there wars? Why is there poverty and starvation? Why is there sickness and suffering? How can we make our stay here more worthwhile by making life better for others? How did Trump get elected?

As I began my questions, this visage opened its mouth and let out a huge burp. I paused, in shock, when it asked me where the nearest bathroom was, since, as he said, “I must know that beer makes you want to go”. With that, I heard the loudest fart ever and it flushed the toilet and disappeared.

My wild quest for wisdom will have to wait a while.

^®Norman F. Estrin, 06/02/2017, My Spiritual Quest for Meaning