RESURGENCE

CHAPTER 3

June 6, 1974

Six years ago, on his mother’s forty-fifth birthday, Robert Wilson was born in St. Mary’s hospital in Goodwin, Colorado. The doctor had told Robert’s father that it was a miracle that both the newborn and the mother survived the complicated birth. Robert’s earliest childhood memory was of a road trip to town with his parents in their new Chevrolet Monte Carlo. As far as Robert could recall, it was a beautiful summer day and his father, Sam Wilson, drove the shiny olive-colored car down the hill.

“It doesn’t matter,” said Sam. “He's my brother, my blood, I have to help him.”

“You melt every time he comes begging with that sorry face of his,” said Robert’s mother, Stephanie, who was sitting in the front passenger seat. “He’s got used to playing the victim card and you’re too blinded by love to see that he’s milking you.”

“Come on, darling, he’s had a rough life. Give him a break. Think of it this way—rather than giving money away to a church or a political campaign, we help Ken out.”

“Sam, he’s taking advantage of your kindness. You gotta let your brother face life’s challenges—it’s the only way he’ll become stronger.”

“Maybe I’ll let you handle him the next time he comes around asking for help. You be the tough guy and tell him no.”

“I’m not dealing with him. You gotta stand up for yourself. God knows what he does with the money: drugs, gambling.”

“He’s been clean for years. He’s using the money to get by until he gets a job. With the way economy is nowadays, it’s tough to start afresh.”

“It’s always easy to blame failure on economy. In truth, he’s a good-for-nothing hippy.”

“If anybody’s to be blamed, it’s his wife, Jenny. Honest to God, she’s as bad a woman as can be. Sits around home all day, lazy as a cat, nagging about being poor, always giving Ken a hard time. The last time I saw her, she had ballooned to more than two hundred pounds. I thought of asking her if she was pregnant. Thank God I didn’t.”

“I can’t believe you said that! Jenny has to deal with your hippy brother all the time and, to top it off, she recently lost her job. Don’t judge her. I’ll be depressed if I was her. What if I put on weight? You’ll start talking badly behind my back to your brother?”

“If you get fat, I’ll eat all I want and be as fat as you,” Sam said with a smile. 

Six-year-old Robert Wilson sat in the back seat and listened to his parents talk about Uncle Ken. Even though he had not learned to read time yet, he could tell that it was sometime around middle of the day. As the sun shone in all its glory, Robert began seeing colors as vivid as he had ever seen before. The trees became greener and the hill on his right turned flaming red and the mustard-yellow lines on the dark-grey road kept grabbing his eye. He couldn’t name all the colors he saw, but they made him happy. In joy of being able to see, he closed his eyes and prayed—thanking God for creating all the colors, and his parents, and their house, and the beautiful green car they drove, and Uncle Ken, even though mama didn’t like him. When he opened his eyes, the colors were gone and so was the car and his parents. He found himself standing in an open field. A layer of green grass covered the land as far as he could see. He turned around and noticed a woman standing behind him. She had a warm smile on her face and was wearing an ivory colored robe—the kind of robe he had seen before. On Sundays, at church, the little stone woman with a baby in her arms had the same robe.

“Papa, please stop at the scenic point,” said Robert in a trembling voice.

“Son, if we stop we’ll be late for the movie,” said his father.

His mother looked back and saw tears rolling down the little boys cheeks.

“Oh Robert! Don’t cry my son. Your dad and I are having an argument. We’re not fighting, we’re discussing.”

“Mom, please, can we stop? I want to see the scenery.”

“Of course, we can stop and see the scenery. That’s a great idea, right Sam?”

Sam looked over at his wife and before he could express his disagreement, he saw the pissed off look in her eyes. 

“Yes, it is,” said Sam with a sigh. “As they say, you gotta stop and smell the roses.”

Five minutes later, the three of them stood at the scenic viewpoint.

“This was a good idea,” said Sam, as he patted his son’s back.

“It wasn’t my idea, Papa. An angel told me stop here,” said Robert, as he looked at the turquoise-colored lake resting peacefully among the hills around it.

“What else did the angel tell you?” asked his mother with curiosity.

“She said if we don’t stop here, rocks will fall on our car, and I’ll have to live with Uncle Ken for a long time.”

Stephanie and Sam looked at each other—she seemed distraught and he looked a bit irritated.

“Alright, let’s hit the road. I don’t want to miss the movie,” Sam said.

The Wilsons didn’t make it to the theater on time. About ten miles from the scenic viewpoint, a detour added an hour to their travel time. They had an early dinner and still got to see the late-show. The next day, Sam Wilson almost fell out of his chair when he read the headline, “Falling rocks close road” on the third page of the Goodwin Weekly. 

After that incident, six-year-old Robert developed a keen interest in angels, holy scriptures, and anything related to Gods and religion. While other boys his age spent time taking piano lessons or collecting stamps or playing ball, he immersed himself in studying stories of sages and saints of the East and mystical miracles performed by avatars. His mother feared that he might grow up to be a religious fanatic, but he inherited a practical, business-like view from his father that held him back from plunging into extremism of any sort. 

After graduating from Colorado Business School with a major in marketing, it took Robert a full year to find a job. He started at the bottom of the advertising business, writing punch lines for everyday stuff—stuff that people rarely read the packaging of when they buy it: napkins, paper cups, toilet paper, and plastic plates. In his free time, Robert wrote his first book titled, God: A common bond. Months passed as he searched for a publisher. Finally, after a year, the book was published by a small publishing house based out of California. The book had a universal appeal and became an instant bestseller upon release. The public loved the way Robert had compared stories from different religions to show that they all were conveying the same message. The critics praised Robert for touching the emotional chord of the readers, without excessively preaching. As success and praise followed him, Robert gave up his day job at the advertisement company, where he never got a raise or satisfaction, to become a full-time writer and motivational speaker. He successfully wrote what people describe as self-help books and, in a few years, established a reputation as a distinguished philosopher.