Poverty

Young Albert Einstein awoke one morning ready to take on the world. He knew that he'd been treated unfairly by most everyone he'd met, that he hadn't been given a chance to prove what he's worth to the world. He was fed up and ready to make a break for it - run off to Honolulu.

But young Albert didn't have the money for such a trip. In fact, he didn't have money for anything at all. His parents raised him in the most abject poverty, without a roof over his head, without a sole to his shoes, and without a penny to his name. Poor Albert even had to beg for admission into the school system himself, which almost didn't accept him due to his wild haircut, which he couldn't afford to have cut.

But fuck all that. Einstein was going to make it to Honolulu today, even if it meant giving up his own life, his chances at a future career in science (he'd been under the tutelage of a well-known professor of Physical Sciences, Dr. Isaac Lowenblatt, for quite some time, and was promised a chance to apply for a renowned scholarship in exchange for doing his dishes and laundry every evening), and his familial ties to family and friends (his best friend was a turtle named Gifford who lived under a rock near an old pond).

His trip commenced with the goodbyes: goodbye Rowena, young little child (his stepsister of only five years), goodbye Jackson, a well-known figure on Einstein's block (he was young Albert's favorite juggler in a circus performance group that made regular public appearances, often for free), and goodbye Gifford (with whom the reader is already introduced).

After his goodbyes, young Albert started walking. He got as far as Prague when he realized that he didn't know where he was, or the best route to get to Honolulu from there. He bought a map and asked a few questions of the clerk, only to find out that his dream of going to Honolulu was not nearly as strong as he had imagined. He lost his determination after about an hour of looking at the map. He decided to go see Gifford at the pond and just say to himself that the pond is in fact Honolulu, and that the other Honolulu not only doesn't exist, but is the least desirable place to visit in the world.

Well, I needn't tell you the rest of the story. You are well-acquainted with Einstein's future accomplishments. He became one of the best-known names in science, having risen from his place of poverty through his intellect and hard work. But, even after all of his many accolades (and, yes, remuneration for his time served in poverty), Einstein never made it to the real Honolulu. He never thought back to that moment in Prague, when he gave up his dreams for a life with Gifford. Nor did he care that Honolulu was a real place that denied him his chance to make something else of himself - something greater than anyone could ever have imagined. Einstein died peacefully, thinking little of his impoverished beginnings, and not at all of Honolulu. Gifford was by his bedside, on the table, immovable and still. He had died 15 years previously, and was now in the great Honolulu in the sky. Einstein, rest in peace.

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This post is an installment in a continuing series of content coordinated by theme or motif with posts from Enoch Allred of Chiltingham, John Allred of clol Town, Jon Fairbanks of Funkadelic Freestylings of Another Sort, Eli Z. McCormick and Miriam Allred of Modern Revelation!, John D. Moore of Whatnot Studios, William C. Stewart of Chide, Chode, Chidden, Sven Patrick Svensson of Sadness? Euphoria?, and WiL Whitlark of The Real McJesus. This week's theme: 'Poverty'.