Rings of Honor

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Junior Adventurer

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Patch

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Patch

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Native born yet half-blooded, he'd been born with one foot on the reservation and the other already out the door. Mixing his mother's Apache blood and his father's absence, he was a natural nomad that had no real roots or direction. Raised beneath the watchful eye of his grandfather who was as much a mystic and spiritual medicine man as he was real flesh and blood, he'd learned the truth of spiritual duality, the heights of humanity and the depths of its depravity. But that wasn't his world, could never be no matter how much his grandfather spoke of the People and their ways and at the age of only fourteen he'd set out on his own to forge his own path...a path free of expectation, history, heritage, and half-blooded taunts and insults.

A hobo's train hop had carried him from the red rocked deserts of the southwest to the land of plenty along the western coast. He'd thrown his lot in with the eclectic and wild bunch at a traveling carnival; their wayward and derelict ways, fast and loose with the rules and morals and always on the move optimism proving far too alluring to pass up.

He'd worked every odd job and position over the years. From roughie to yardie to agent and so on, embracing the 'with it and for it' life of the Midway till it was as much a part of his blood as that native ancestry. With a knack for solving problems his presence was often preceded by the phrase "Go and see the Patch." The nickname stuck, a play on his heritage, and became fitting once he'd earned the esteem and respect of the carny world as the carnival's fixer.

Sparse deserts and empty lands had been traded for the static of the talkers building their tips over decades old loud speakers, the never ending grind of organ music and the metallic clatter of wheels chunking their way up the rails of that first big roller coaster spill. He'd rejected one world of nomads for another and when the flag was in the air he thrived within the hum of Sideshow Alley always with watchful eyes that prowled the Midway with a protective reverence.

Always with a soothing word, a few free passes or even a bankroll of notes, the man known as Patch kept everything together, kept that eclectic show going from town to town. Greasing the friction of two opposing worlds, one within the Arch and the one beyond, he straddled that narrow gap between fantasy and reality as easily as he straddled his two separate heritages in order to keep both worlds turning with all the polished veneer of carousel horses.

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An old Cherokee chief was teaching his grandson about life...

"A fight is going on inside me," he said to the boy. "It is a terrible fight and it is between two wolves. One is evil - he is anger, envy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority, self-doubt, and ego."

"The other is good - he is joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion, and faith. This same fight is going on inside you - and inside every other person, too."

The grandson thought about it for a minute and then asked his grandfather, "Which wolf will win?"

The old chief simply replied, "The one you feed."

~ Tsalagi Tale

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