I was raised by cruise ship attendants on a tropical island in the Caribbean. They would stop by a couple of times a week with fat Wisconsinites and feed me old buffet food. One day as I was finishing off a stale dessert tart, my father, chief purser, Tad told me he was not my real father. I was pretty upset and I asked who my real parents were. Tad took one of the sacred picture books called TIME and tore a picture out of it. “Bingo,” he said “these are your true parents.” and he gave me the picture you see here. I set out in search of them that evening.
I built a ramshackle raft out of old pop bottles and clamshell to-go boxes. I sailed around the islands and I showed the picture to whomever I came across. Most people ran away from me or laughed. So I traveled further and further.
One morning I came to a steep cliff. I knew in my heart that the answers to all of my questions were at the top. It was a difficult climb. I broke my ankle and I lost what few possessions I had left, but I held on tightly to the picture. When I finally reached the top of the cliff a few days later, I saw a bunch of people sitting cross legged in brightly colored bathrobes. They all ignored me, all except for an old man named Leonard. Leonard took me to see an even older man. A man so old he looked like a turtle without his shell. The older man was named Roshi. I liked him immediately. He told me that he knew my parents and that my mothers name was Elizabeth and that she had magic Purple eyes and that my Dad’s name was Henry and he was a great leader and had a funny voice like a robot machine. “They had both been hurt badly in their hearts by 2 different men,” Yoshi mused, “but the two men had one name, the name was Dick.” Leonard added that the picture I carried was taken by a famous artist named Andy. Andy took the picture at a large spiritual gathering called Wrestlemania II. It was there, in a place called the Silverdome that the forces of evil (King Kong Bundy) were vanquished by Hulk Hogan in a steel cage match.
I was so happy to finally know the truth. I felt free. And though I loved the photo more than anything in the world I gave it to Roshi. It was my only possesion and I just had to give him something. I presented it and bowed down deep before him. He gently placed it on his alter and he smiled at me, a smile that still lives in my heart. A smile that reverberates and resonates, in ever widening rings of grace. These feelings are especially strong whenever I see pictures or hear stories of Hulk Hogan.
