Letter to the Editor 8-26-22

Dear Editor,
“The Great Wizard,” by Harold Malmquist
Once upon a time there was a great wizard. Routinely he displayed his great wizardry as he traveled from village to village. On this day he stopped in a village known as Richman-Poorman. The people located here were located according to their wealth. The poorest people lived on the east side. The wealthy lived towards the west. The wizard strolled into a gathering place at the central part of the village. He observed how arrogant and selfish the wealthy were. He noticed the depressed, hopeless poor.
The Great Wizard determined he would make living conditions perfect in Richman-Poorman. The village would be forced to change its name to Perfectman. A few minutes past midnight during a full moon he showered himself with magic dust. Quivering he raised his wand that glittered brilliantly in the glow of the moon light. Hypnotically he moaned a sad lonely chant twisting slowly around. By morning's first light he'd transferred the abundance of wealth from the haves to the have-nots.
Stunned, the people of wealth greeted morning's first light showing tattered, unmended clothing waiting for them to climb into. They searched their minds trying to figure how they had suddenly lapsed into such horrible living conditions. Because there wasn't an explanation, they'd be forced to collect their resources and go from here.
The poor people greeted morning's first light with silk covers covering their shoulders. They peered out from beneath their blankets at butlers offering to light the candles in the chandeliers. Arising from their beds they opened further, Venetian blinds at the windows revealing water- filled swimming pools in their yards. After dressing in fancy clothes, maids handed them martini's as they picked up their morning newspapers. After a bit they were called to their breakfasts to dine magnificently. Never did they speculate how they'd landed in this fantastic dreamworld.
When phones jingled with parties on the other end demanding they come to work the people were incensed how anyone could assume they needed a job. They called their suddenly wealthy friend and spent the days spending the vast fortunes in their bank account. They spent night after night throwing great parties.
During times when they were at rest and relaxing, they found time to curse the shoe shiners shining their pointed boots for being so slow. As they lounged, they learned how to kick folks sprawled on the metal stoops with their newly polished boots. With time the men high hatted the lower classes and the ladies high nosed the lower classes. They became embarrassed if the common folks would venture towards lightly addressing them.
Month after month passed by, and the newly rich continued to spend their money lowering the pile of their liquid wealth. The suddenly poor were scrounging, using their wits, increasing their liquid wealth. To the wizard's chagrin, the poor made wealthy were becoming progressively poorer with each passing day. The wealthy made poor, likewise, were becoming wealthy. The poor people made wealthy gleefully bragged, money was made to be spent and not to be pyramided. They bragged how foolish it was to be wealthy and not to live it up.
After two years had passed, the excitement and glee ebbing from the newly rich had subsided. Gloom and doom emanating from the suddenly poor had vanished. The fella who was shining boots for the newly rich two years before was now an owner for a chain of shoe stores. He'd recently purchased a nice home on the west side of the village.
The guy who'd been kicked on the metal steps had been recently hired as a loan officer at the bank. Those folks who'd been high hatted and snubbed had opened up a real estate office and were showing the newly rich from two years before rental houses on the east side of the village.
The Great Wizard had been hanging around the whole time. He sat at the bar in the central part of the village languishing over what he considered to be his greatest failure. The poor made wealthy had once again become poor. The wealthy made poor had regained their wealth. Just before the Great Wizard swallowed his last drink and left the village he wailed and sobbed loud enough for everyone to hear, “YA CAN'T MAKE A SILK PURSE OUT OF A SOW'S EAR.'
Harold Malmquist