FABELS

 

Now once upon a time in the land of Nada, there was nothing! Nothing special, nothing different, nothing new or exciting day in and day out. And the people, the Nadites, were very much content, and although you couldn't really say they were happy about their lives, you couldn't really say they were not either.

Nada was a land of sameness. All the trees were of just one variety and all were of the same height and width and none of them ever grew taller and none ever died away. None of them ever shed their leaves in the fall and bloomed again in the spring for that would be something different and life in Nada was not about being different.

Nada's people, too, were all the same. All Nadites had wavy red hair and freckles. Kids were not! As a matter of fact, the Nadite language had no word for children. If there were a word for children, it would imply that children were not the same as adults and that would be a difference. All Nadites were even of the same genderless attribution, neither feminine or masculine. And all played a one-string musical instrument called a Zilch.

Way back before any of the Nada population could remember, someone tried adding a second string to the Zilch, but it was quickly banned in the land of Nada because it was different than the first string.

Zilch players knew no chords or notes. They only plucked the one string to the rhythm of their own heartbeat. And since all heartbeats were the same and none ever quickened or slowed due to exertion, excitement or illness (those things didn't exist in Nada) everyone always played the same note in the same tempo with the same rhythm the same way time after time.

Walking, or any other form of travel, was forbidden in the land of Nada because. according to the decree of the people, going from “here” to “there” would create a different place for the traveler and nothing in Nada was ever different. People pretty much stayed where they were and didn't associate with other Nadites, for association would mean friendships and friends might like one another more than they liked other Nadites and a difference would be created.

One time a Nadite named Zip saw a neighbor and thought he was looking into a mirror. (I don't know why it is important to tell you his name because all Nadites were named Zip, but it seems important to us to have names, and so now you know that one of the Zips in the land of Nada is included in this story.)

To try and see if the other image was really himself or another Nadite, Zip waved at Zip, his neighbor. Much to his surprise all Nadites were experiencing the very same emotion at the very same time and all of them raised a hand to wave at a neighbor and all of their neighbors also raised their hand to wave at exactly the same time. So no Nadite ever really truly knew if they were alone in the world looking at reflections of themselves or if they were part of a community with many others – all who just happened to be exactly the same as themselves.
Now over time, this caused a great disturbance and unrest and eventually none of the people in the land of Nada were happy.

Now also about this same time there was the land of Oodles, and unlike the land of Nada, Oodles and all the people in it had extreme differences. Even the land itself had many names. Some called it the land of Prosperity and others called it Plethora, Affluence, Opulence and a dozen other names. But no matter what name was used, everyone in the land of Oodles knew it was just a different name for the same place.

Difference reigned supreme in the land of Oodles and celebrations of anything perceived as different were presented at the drop of a hat. As a matter of fact, the drop of a hat was cause for celebration because it created such a difference. The hat which used to be “here” was now “there” and the air disturbance created by it's fall caused small gusts of wind that stirred up dust and organic matter on the ground. Flying insects and even the hair on the hare would change their attitudes and direction because of it.

The language spoken in the land of Oodles had none less than 54 different words that could be used to mean “different” and the Word Committee, which changed it's members every day, so as to be different every day, were constantly working to invent new words to mean the same as other words just so the people would never be bored with using the same word twice.

Now difference and being different was so celebrated in the land of Oodles that it was the only characteristic in the land that was deemed as being good. So much was it deemed as the only good thing that the word committee actually had more words that could be substituted for the word “good” than any other word. Being different was admirable, splendid, superb, rad and as many as 380 different words could be used in the language of the Oodlers.

Being different, as much as it was celebrated, also had it's down side, much to the agitation of the King. For instance no two vehicles ran on the exact same kind of fuel and the difference in fuel was so great from one type to another that there were no alternatives or cross-over companion fuels. So filling up with a tank of gas was pretty much a difficult thing to do and the fuel station owners made very little income from the sales of fuel since they really only had one customer each and that was usually themselves. Long distance travel for the Oodlers was impossible unless they walked since they never were able to find their own specific and unique brand of fuel once away from home.

Hospitals were really incredibly huge warehouse storage facilities since it was necessary to store plasma of a different type for every single person in the community because no two Oodlers had the same blood type. This also caused a huge increase in the cost of health insurance.

Another major negative impact of so much difference was the playing of group sports because the rules for the same game were always interpreted differently from one team to the next. Even on the same team, the duties of each player were often confused because each saw his role differently than what the rule books called for and, so, quite often one might be watching a football match where the quarterback brought out a cricket mallet. No two referees even agreed upon the rules of the game and so decisions were impossible to obtain.

And music was never heard in the land of Oodles because no Oodler could ever agree with another Oodler on how many strings a guitar should have or and even within the same band, all the band members instead on playing in a different key.

Pianos in the land of Oodles had so many differences that some had only 10 keys while others had over 500. Some had a pattern of three black keys then two black keys while others had no recognizable pattern at all. On some, the black keys were called half notes and on others they weren't black at all but a rainbow of colors and each color represented a different one sixteenth of the musical spectrum.

Some banjos had a fifth string tuning peg at the fifth fret while others had it at the 10^th fret and still others had it mounted on the resonator causing a wide variety in the variable tunings so that it was very seldom any two banjo players ever knew exactly what the other was playing.

One banjo player insisted that his resonator should be attached to a set of bellows and his instrument was played by picking and squeezing simultaneously, which certainly was different, but also extremely difficult to do.

Now in the land of Oodles, there was so much difference created over the years that it was impossible for anyone to agree with another because agreeing would be too much sameness and that was not a desirable quality in Oodles. And it soon became impossible for anyone to communicate with another.

Like the land of Nada, this caused a great disturbance all across the land and the people were not happy.
Now both lands, the land of Nada and the land of Oodles, existed in the world at exactly the same time and so both were experiencing the frustrations of their community's edicts and the problems they suffered because of them.

And it just so happened that the rulers of each land, the father of the land of Nada, a man named Eornom, and the father of the land of Oodles, a man by the name of Hsub, each had a revelation at exactly the same time. And unbeknownst to each of them, both of their revelations were identical.

In a dream, a messenger came to each man carrying a warning that to continue as they were would mean certain doom. But to begin to repair the world, each, Eornom and Hsub, would have to do everything in reverse. As a matter of fact, they would also have to convince their lands and everyone in them to also do everything in reverse.

And so waking up in the morning became waking up at night and clock springs were removed and re-inserted upside down and backwards so that time on the clock moved from twelve to eleven and then to ten and nine and so forth. Laughing became crying and what once were raindrops hitting the ground became steam and moisture rising back to the clouds.

Everything in the land of Nada began to transform into different shapes and forms and ideas of sameness were replaced with notions of variety. Likewise in the land of Oodles, all the variables began to merge to create wholeness and eliminate fractions.

But still it wasn't enough. Each land, Nada and Oodles, with all they had done, could not get back to a time when peace and tranquility were abundant.

Now, because of the many changes that occurred in each land, the Nadites began to travel and enjoy the new discoveries and the Oodlers soon had an abundance of the appropriate fuel for their vehicles and travel became frequent for them as well.

And so it happened that each made the discovery of the others existence and in that new find, their worlds opened up, for each had exactly that which the other was in need of and a great war was waged between the two. Each side attacking the other over and over in an attempt to gain plunder for themselves. Each side going to battle for what they believed was their right – to gain what they didn't have even if it was to the detriment and elimination of the other.

After many years of war and much ruination of the lands, the rulers of each land, Eornom and Hsub, had the occasion to meet and discuss their mutual problems and surprising to each was the fact that each man learned of the messenger in the dream of the other and the fact that the remedy for each man's problem was exactly the same. Surprising, too, was the fact that each community had reached a stand-still with their progress and each ruler knew his people would not be able to last unless they could find a way to fully transcend the problems.

So each man took turns making suggestions on what they thought should be done. First one then the other, back and forth all of the day and all of the night, the two bantered and discussed and shared and debated. But still nothing they thought of seemed to be workable.

Finally after many many hours of debate and discourse, Eornom suggested that perhaps the only way for each land to truly become peaceful would be to merge both lands and become one and he suggested the new name for the two lands be Ssargeulb.

Hsub, fearing he might be left out of a leadership role in the new land, agreed but only with a compromise. He figured that if he caused enough confusion during the merger, he would have time to wrangle a hold on at least half of the new kingdom. And so the compromise was struck and it was that all of the people would begin to speak backwards.

And so each man agreed and back to their lands they went to begin the new peace.
Before long everyone in Nada and everyone in Oodles was speaking and even thinking in reverse and it made an immediate difference and both lands truly became one under a joint rule of both kings. And soon everything was working completely to erase the problems and give the people what they needed, peace, tranquility, happiness.

And so, in the brand new land of Ssargeulb, the father of Nada, Eornom, became Monroe and the father of Seldoo, Hsub, became Bush and all was right in the world of Ssargeulb. And from that day on and forevermore all the people speaking in reverse in the world of Ssargeulb remained happy ever after.

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A long long time ago in a world where no two people ever shared the same opinion about anything, there lived a fellow by the name of Überlieferung. But he was known far and wide as just Übe.
 
There also lived in this disagreeable land another fellow by the name of Zeitgenosse and he was very well known by his nickname of Zeiter.
 
Now it was inevitable that the two should meet one day, and, lo, it came to pass that each of them, Übe and Zeiter, were in the same village at the same time and both were announced by the King to be guests of honor and platform speakers at his annual gala music celebration.
 
There were people from this side of the world and from that side of the world, from the top of the world and from down under – all converging together and all having disagreeable discourse about something and if not about something, then about something else. But the biggest disagreement in the land always was about music and on this particular occasion it was no different.
 
Finally the time came for the King to present his guests of honor and for each to take his turn speaking to the assembly.
 
First it was Übe's turn, and he graciously bowed to the King and then to the Queen and then to the crowd. He took his place up on the platform and in his best and loudest voice so that all could hear he began to explain about the need for staying with the status quo. The dangers and pitfalls of venturing out beyond the known boundaries of anything were exhausting to list but he named several, like sailing too far and reaching the edge of the world and like trying to glue feathers to a frame fastened to one's arms in an attempt to reach the sun like a bird.
 
Finally after several long explanations, he settled down to the main topic of his speech and that was to conform to the prescribed standards of music as laid down by the father of their music. And he provided examples of what he thought was good and workable music by enlisting the help of the court string pickers.
 
The crowd was mostly thrilled but there were some hecklers who thought Übe's comments were too old-fashioned and they boo'd and hiss'd and before the end of his speech they actually boo'd and hiss'd him right off the platform and poor ol' Übe never got to say the rest.
 
Next it was Zeiter's turn and the King made him feel just a welcome as warm sun on a rainy day. Zeiter paid his respects and then took his exalted spot next to the King and began to gratingly expound upon the benefits of reaching beyond, of trying newness and letting adventurous spirits become free to roam around and explore. “Especially in music,” he said, “it is imperative that we push outside of our limitations and find new sounds.” And he provided some examples of what he meant by bringing in the wheelwright and the blacksmith and then the feller of tall trees and such others like them who could make tremendous sounds with their tools and he called it Nouvelle Musique.
 
Now many in the crowd were in awe of the new sounds and had never heard them all put together the way Zeiter had done, but still, they were not quite sure it was what they would want at their daughter's wedding or their son's manhood feast or at their 50-year-togetherness celebration. It was just too different and to far away from what they knew and liked.
 
And there were those who thought that Übe's time was preempted with disrespect and they began a planned payback to the ones who'd boo'd and hiss'd Übe off prematurely.
 
Led by a known troublemaker in the village, Kaco Foni, they took the blacksmith's hammer and the wheelwright's bender and the forester’s big saw and they began to make a noise that, musically, was the representation of all of their vocal bickering. None of the individual sounds blended or meshed with the others and so it was that Zeiter, too, was removed from the podium before he was finished.
 
Now way in the back of the crowd stood a little man with no distinguishing characteristics to note and who mostly just stayed by himself – never mixing in with the others during debates over wrong or right or what should be and what shouldn't be. His name was Marc, the son of the village tinkerer, Tinker Ony.
 
After most of the evening had gone by with loud and rude banter and heckles and shouts from one side to the other and person-to-person conversations that nearly led to blows with clubs in several instances, the King called for his advisers and told them to find someone who could equalize this terrible feud between the Überlieferung fans and the Zeitgenossers. He told them to search the crowd and send runners to the farthest corners of the land to find someone. Someone who could find a balance or something that could make everyone happy. The King was tired of the same old argument about the music of the land.
 
And so the Kings men did what they were told and they posted notices and they queried anyone and everyone about their beliefs and about the need for peace. But it was hopeless. Everyone had an opinion. Some even wore the Zeiter family crest in show of support and others tattooed a big Ü on their foreheads or painted the Ü on their housetops to designate their side. Everywhere one looked could be seen the Z crest or the Ü brand.
 
Now the King's men knew they couldn't give up or they'd face the wrath of the King and it was not good to disappoint the King and so they marched on and on until one day they came upon Marc Ony's house and like Marc it was very much nondescript. It was plain and had no character. But most importantly it had no Z or Ü anywhere to be found. Likewise, Marc and his wife were also bare of any symbols.
 
And so the Kings men questioned and queried and prodded and pried but they could not get Marc or his wife to say one word either in favor or against Übe or Zeiter. So off they went, the Kings men and Marc to see the King. They had found their man.
 
Now once the King heard the story of how the advisers could not get Marc to budge, he asked him if he were King, what would he do. Since Marc was by nature a very quiet man, very few with the exception of his wife knew of his incredible genius. He was smarter than any man alive and he was also smart enough to know to keep quiet about it so as not to make enemies.
 
He told the king he'd been following in his father's footsteps as a tinkerer and he thought that he might have a gadget that could help the King with his problem. And so he produced a big box. Something the King and all of the King's advisers and servants and everyone had never seen or seen anything like it.
 
The shock, the gasp, the awe! It was deafening! Puzzlement, bewilderment, disbelief! What was it? How did it work and what could it do to fix the King's problem?
 
And so Marc Ony agreed to give the King and his entourage a demonstration.
 
First he hooked the box to a long metal string and asked the King's footman to stretch the string out the window and up to the top of the castle roof. Then he connected the box to another big box filled with water and acid … and WOW!!! the first box began to glow and the King and all in the court could see a lighted wheel on the face of the box that Marc would turn and turn. And, as he turned the wheel, sounds began to come from the box. Good sounds, people sounds, street sounds, and, yes, music sounds. The King was fascinated but still in disbelief. How could all those people making those sounds get into that box and how could they all be inside at once? But Marc didn't answer. He just kept turning the wheel.
 
Now at one point the King heard the music Übe was talking about and he asked Marc to stop turning the wheel. And the crowd from outside was invited into the hall to listen and they too were amazed and they all wanted a box of their own and Marc began taking orders. So many orders that he would have to hire most of those who wanted one to help build them.
 
Then the King took a hold of the wheel and began turning for himself and he found new sounds coming from the box. Strangely enough, sounds that resembled the same thing Zeiter had been talking about and so the King stopped at that spot on the wheel and he sent for Zeiter, who had been in the crowd the entire time.
 

Zeiter came forward and proclaimed to the King that Marc Ony's box was exactly what he and all of his followers needed. They too placed orders and began working to help build their own boxes.
 
And so the King was satisfied that Marc Ony's box was the answer to his biggest problem of how to satisfy all of his kingdom. Everyone in the kingdom could have his own box and each could wheel in the sound that suited them best and there would be no more arguing.
 
It was a radical notion – an idea that only Marc Ony conceived and so the King knighted Marc Ony and proclaimed that the box should be named for this radical idea and for it's inventor.
 
And from that day on and forever more the box that Marc Ony brought to the King was known as . . .
RADI-O
 

~ The End ~

...Tune in again next time when the King learns of a new gadget to help his dinner guests stop squabbling and disagreeing over the dinner courses … it's something called a menu.
  

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so long ago that no one alive today can count that far back … there lived a small community of people in the land of Pick. 

Now all of the people who lived in the land of Pick were known to each other as Pickers and life was good.

Life was full of fun and joy and music – for everyone in the land of Pick – could. But even with all of the enjoyed peace and harmony, everyone knew that a day would come when things would change. They new their tranquility was precious but that it was also very fragile and most did all they could to preserve what they treasured. But mostly they stayed to themselves and did the same things day after day.

Many, many generations in the land of Pick continued the traditions of their elders until one day a lad of not more than 20 years of age and a bit of an adventurous soul decided that there just had to be something else, something more. And so he ventured outside of the village gates. Something no one before him had ever dared to do. His name was Thumb.

After many days of wandering, which turned into weeks and then into months, Thumb saw signs of other life. No one in the land of Pick ever suspected that there were other people anywhere besides them. They all thought that the entire world was just what they knew inside their own boundaries in the land of Pick.

Thumb cautiously ventured further and further, investigating the signs he discovered until he came to another village. It looked a lot like the land of Pick but yet, not. There were different sounds coming from the village. They were harmonious sounds – like the land of Pick – but still different.

Carefully approaching the gates, so as not to be caught off-guard by an unknown assailant, Thumb walked right up and peeked inside. He saw people. Happy people and life in a community that looked an awful lot like the land of Pick. What could it be? Could he have walked in one huge circle and come right back home – only through a back gate? Yes, it could be. But no, it wasn't. Yes, these people were happy and joyous and harmonious but they definitely were not Pickers. But who were they?

Then Thumb was spotted, first by one little child who cried out, and then by some of the older folks and he started to run. “But wait,” one of the new people cried, “you're in no danger here. Who are you? Where do you come from?”

Thumb told them his tale – about the land of Pick and the Pickers who lived there and how good life was.

The new people were amazed at his story. You see, they too thought that they were the only people on earth and the entire world began and ended right there in their village – the land of Strum where everyone was known as Strummers.

The Strummers welcomed Thumb and wanted to know more about his village. They were enthralled with all he had to say.

Then one day, one of the Strummers, a young lad about the same age as Thumb, a lad known as Index announced to his village elders that he would like to accompany Thumb back to his village, in the land of Pick, to see just what it was like for himself. Because even though Thumb was welcome in the land of Strum, and while everyone was strumming he tried to join in by picking he was just one and they were many and he was lost in the din of their strumming. He just didn't fit in like he did in the land of Pick and he was homesick.

And so it was that Thumb and Index went off together back to the land of Pick. But Index wasn't empty handed. He brought with him all of the best the land of Strum could send. He was going to the land of Pick as the goodwill ambassador to help build a pathway between the two communities so that both could freely enjoy the good, harmonious vibrations of the other.

Now when Index arrived in the land of Pick with Thumb by his side, he was as welcome as July rain on a dried up cactus. All of the pickers in the land of Pick were excited to know about the land of Strum and to hear the sounds that Index could make. But best of all, was the sound that both Index and Thumb made together. None of the pickers in the land of Pick had ever heard such fantastic sounds – so different from each other but still so much more beautiful together than anything they'd ever heard before. And all of them wanted to take turns picking with Index to make that wonderful sound.

And life was better.

And life continued year after year and the pathway between the land of Pick and the land of Strum was getting used and used until it was so frequently and heavily traveled that no plants ever grew in the path from that time on. And both the land of Pick and the land of Strum were so filled with people from the other village that it was hard to tell which was Pick and which was Strum and strummers were learning more about being pickers and pickers were becoming quite good at being strummers and it was hard to tell them apart.

And life was still better in both the lands.

And after many generations of pickers and strummers intermingling and bringing forth children who could equally strum and pick in both communities, one such youth who had heard the stories from the elders of the days when the two were separate, began to get a wanderlust of his own. His name was Middle.

Now Middle ventured away and for many years was not heard from or seen until one day he appeared back in the village square with a traveling companion he introduced as Stick. Stick came from the land of Beat where villagers were known as beaters and everyone spent most of their day hammering with wooden mallets on something – anything that would produce a sound. Hollowed-out tree trunks, metal pots, deer hide stretched over wooden frames and a hundred or more other things that made a noise when one would strike it with another object.

And just like his ancient ancestors, Pick and Thumb, Middle had been surprised to find that, yes indeed, there were still other people in the world who lived in harmony with themselves but who blindly thought that they were alone in the world.

Needless to say, Middle was excited to be able to pick and strum and make his own noise while Stick beat on things in an accompanying manner and the two became quite famous in the lands of Pick and Strum, for they had a sound between them that none had ever heard and none could duplicate.

And so two new pathways were built from each of the lands of Pick and Strum directly to the land of Beat.

And for many more generations, life was very good. And beaters and strummers and pickers all began to socialize and learn and grow and prosper from the association with each other.

And lo, it is said still to this day that, it came to pass that as the communities of each began to grow and swell in population and size, the pathways between each became shorter and shorter until one day it was no longer possible to tell which community was which and the people in each had fused their lives with the others and all new generations born had unique abilities to pick or strum or beat with equal quality and efficiency no matter which they were doing.

And life in the land of Pick and the land of Strum and the land of Beat was very good for everyone.

And after many, many years, a child was born in the community. A child that from the very beginning showed a special promise that no other children ever born had shown. His name was Anjer.

He grew up in the land of PicknStrum – the new name for the combined community.

And as Anjer grew up he continued to show more and more promise. More and more uniqueness. More and more inventiveness.

He was able to make such different and totally unique sounds – yet sounds that, even though never before heard by any, could blend and mix and add to and with the sound of the community. The sounds of everyday life in PicknStrum were new and exciting and they continued to grow newer and newer with each day.

Life in PicknStrum was still good, but it was becoming clear to the community that even though life had been good for all these years and years, there was a fear that someday a stranger might come and bring a sound not welcome and not harmonious with theirs. They had heard rumors of a new far-away land. A land called Blow and they were alarmed for they'd also heard that people in the land of Blow could make a noise so loud that no other sound could be heard. And people in the land of Blow were many.

Then one day the community decided that Anjer was so special they wanted him to be their leader. He had such special qualities that surely he would know what to do if the day ever should come when their fears were realized. He could protect them from the dangers of the blowers.

And Anjer ruled in the land of PicknStrum for many years and he was succeeded by his son Tenor who ruled for that many more years plus that many more again.

Under the guidance of Tenor, all of the people were happy and life was very good.

Now Tenor had a son who, like the boy's grandfather, showed bewildering affirment that he was special.Tenor was the first in his village – the first in his race – to bring together the sound of the pickers and the sound of the strummers and the sound of the beaters all at the same time and all by himself. He was the most special person any of the villagers had ever known and he produced the most unique sound any had ever heard. And, he was so special that he could teach all of the others in the village to pick and strum and beat simultaneously and individually.

And the sound the village could make was deafening – with everyone picking and strumming and beating. Surely no invading blowers would ever have a chance against that sound

And so it was that he was placed on the throne as their leader, even before his father's life had ended. He was that special and that loved. He was so special that even his father had not been able to name him. For like his uniqueness, his name also had to have the most special quality. A name that none other had ever owned.

Now Tenor, very learned in the history of his people, was always displeased with the loss of representation for the people from the land of Beat when the communities combined and the new name, PicknStrum was chosen. Even though way back then, long before Tenor was even born, the people themselves had decided upon the name and no one from the land of Beat had ever complained, Tenor was certain that, as a matter of pride, they should have some representation in the history of their land.

But try as he might, Tenor just could not find a way to rename the entire town. PicknStrum was so ingrained into the people and the lifestyle and the harmonious atmosphere that any attempt to make an alteration to the name was just not welcome or necessary.

And so after many years of struggling with his thoughts on this dilemma, Tenor finally had an idea. His own son was still needing a name. A special name that would fit his special qualities and a name that would be historically significant not only for him but for all the people he ruled.

Tenor thought and thought and taking the name of his own father and adding the first letter from the people of the land of Beat, he invented a brand new name for his son. A name that no one before had ever heard. It would be his son's name to represent the unique sound he could make. But it would also honor the historical significance of the land and the people from whence he came.

And Tenor decreed that all of his male descendants from that time on shall all bear the same name forever more.

And so it was and shall forever be that Tenor's son's name and all of his sons' and their sons' and their sons' names forever and ever was Banjer and from that time and forevermore all the pickers and strummers in the world were ruled by a Banjer.