Editor, Times-Union: There was once a kingdom in a time long ago. The kingdom’s castle was perched high up on a mountainside and there the royal family and their many servants lived in wealth and opulence. They spent their days feasting and reveling in one another’s company. The king had many children and he loved them all. But one son was his most precious. He reflected in every way his father. He was intelligent and kind and respectful. One day he would become the king himself and take the throne because the father had chosen him to be his successor.
Down in the valley below lived the king’s subjects. Their lives were hard. They lived in quiet desperation. Daily they struggled for food and to maintain their shelter from the wind and cold. Many lived in poverty, sickness and misery. Sometimes they looked up into the sky to the castle and wondered, and even dreamed, what it would be like to live just a day in the comfort and safety of the lofty palace.
Sometimes the young prince could be found at the edge of the castle wall looking deep into the valley. From far above he could see the the huts of his people and could sometimes see them working the fields for their food. He felt compassion and pity for his poor and desperate subjects.
In the castle an annual festival was approaching. On the final day of the celebration the king was to present his favorite son with a royal robe made of the finest cloth. The custom was that the son would put the robe on and enter the royal stage for all to see.
The day arrived for the event. The king’s tailors feverishly worked to make an unrivaled robe of regal majesty. All the throng waited as the son was soon to make his entry onto the stage. The trumpets sounded and the curtain were pulled apart. The young prince slowly walked onto the stage as the audience gasped in disbelief and shock. The young prince was dressed in the clothes of a simple beggar.
Quietly he said, “I am going into the valley.”
(Inspired by a story from my youth whose author I have long since forgotten)
