Snow on the Desert

The train swayed and rattled as it moved along the tracks. Inside a private railroad car, a young boy of twelve, sat with his cheek pressed against the window. “What’re ya lookin’ at, Jessie?” asked the tall man standing over him. “I’m watching the trees and poles as they chase each other,” the boy said, immediately regretting his words. Why’d he say that? His father wouldn’t understand. I guess I’ll never learn to keep my big mouth shut. The man shook his head slowly, and sat down beside Jessie. “Aren’t you getting a little old for kid’s games, son?” Jessie shrugged awkwardly. “That’s what it looks like, father, if you look long enough. It looks like they’re chasing each other.” “Ummphhh,” the man blew through his nose. “You better take another look,” he said. “That’s not what I see. You know what I see out there?” “No, father,” Jessie said, his chest lifting with a sigh. “What do you see, father?” “The Turner Empire! Our Heaven on Earth! The only heaven there is or will ever be. And it has everything a man could possibly want. That’s what I see; that’s the way I want you to see it. You’re my son, Jessie. You are the only son of Paul Turner! You ain’t some sniffling, snot-nosed dreamer. That’s our world out there. Our world! Factories, servants, money—everything! And it’s ours, yours and mine.” “Yes, father,” Jessie said softly, inhaling deeply, preparing for the lecture he knew was as inevitable as the thunder that followed lightning. “I’m not trying to be hard on you, Jessie,” Paul Turner said, waving a ring-decorated hand at the passing scenery. “But someday all that is going to be yours. And it ain’t for dreamers, Jessie. It ain’t for dreamers. How many times have I told you? You gotta realize that someday the Turners might be able to control the economy and destiny of this country. That’s what you gotta keep alive in your head. Maybe it won’t come in my life time, but it’s gonna come for the Turners. And we ain’t got time for dreamin’ and things like that. We ain’t gonna achieve it by idle day dreams either. We gotta work for it. Hard! And that means you gotta prepare yourself so that you can pick up that responsibility and pass it on to your children. Each generation of Turners has to add to the pot. You gotta prepare yourself for that responsibility. You just can’t waste time, Jessie. The future has a way of sneaking up on you. One day you’re a boy with eternity to waste and the next day, you’re an old man wondering where the future has gone. That may not make sense to you now, but you’ll understand what I’m talking about when you get to be my age. And, always remember, you’re gonna have to explain all this so your kids understand it.” Paul Turner looked at Jessie to make sure he was paying attention. “So you leave that dreaming shit to the dreamers, Jessie. You hear? They’re good at it. That’s all they’re good at. Dreaming. That’s all they know. That’s why they’re the clods and we Turners are bosses. That’s why the world is our oyster. Those poor bastards see a shell; we see the pearls inside. They can keep the shells; we’re gonna take the pearls, all of them! Someday, it’s gonna be your job to take the pearls from the swine. That’s what it’s all about, Jessie. That’s the world I’m gonna give you and the world you’re gonna pass on. That's the world I see out the window. Do you understand what I’m saying, Jessie?” Jessie nodded, quickly, trying to hide the fact that he had only a vague understanding of what it was that he was going to have some day. He wondered if the train they were on was a part of the deal. “Is this train going to be mine, father?” he asked. Paul Turner rose, cleared his throat and said, “Why sure, son, if you want it. Anything you want, you can have. You know that. But by the time you’re grown up, I’m sure you won’t want these cars. They’re gettin’ old and outdated and I ‘spect I’ll have to get three new cars one of these days. Besides, you’re a Turner and the world is your oyster and there’re plenty of pearls and… .”