“Give me your tired, your poor,

Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,

- Emma Lazarus, ‘The New Colossus’, 1883.

I checked my appearance in the coat closet's mirror. I still looked dapper and upstanding. Today, I was still the gentleman aristocrat. Tomorrow, they would see the adventurer/warrior/cowboy that I grew up dreaming I would be. Appearance certified, I began to steel myself mentally and tried to motivate myself internally. That couplet by Lazarus jumped into my mind and I repeated it internally as I looked at myself in the imperfect mirror. Mirrors had a long way to go in the 19th century; you sure weren’t doubling any lasers off of this thing.

I strode into the back garden, stopped at the top of the small stair, and prepared to speak. The garden was full of people, but the overall sense of the crowd was not one of confidence. It was my responsibility as leader to spark that hope and confidence.

I gathered myself and projected my confidence and strength as I spoke, “In a short time we will start on a journey together, the journey ahead will not be easy and it will not always be safe.”

My voice boomed across the garden and every eye was on me. Even the servants came out of the barns. I felt a small crowd growing behind me as well.

“Our journey will consist of two teams. I do not wish to separate, but it is the only way forward. First, the men will accompany me on foot and on horseback to herd the livestock to your new home. We shall travel overland. This is the easier of the two jobs, by far.

“The women shall board the boats and herd the precious children while they also bring our belongings. Personally, I’d rather try to herd cats than children.” This brought needed laughter from the entire crowd.

“What we undertake to do with this journey, we do with good reason. There is good land that cries out for good people who will care for it, as it cares for them. This land is called Rulo and all of you are invited to build your homes there. We require only that you follow a simple set of rules. One of the most important rules is to leave no trace. The land must not be sullied or fouled. Follow that rule and the land will feed us and protect us and our generations to come.” Heady stuff.

“Tonight, we shall eat and prepare to travel. Tomorrow we shall double-check our preparations and gird our loins. We shall have urgency in these tasks and work with purpose, for there is a land just a few weeks from us, singing this welcoming song:"

“Give me your tired, your poor,

Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,

The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.

Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,

I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”

I had thrown my arms wide open while I recited the sonnet, and then slowly lowered them as I looked purposefully over the gathering. My words seemed to echo across the fields.

“If you are ready to accept this invitation and follow the rules of this land, then you will be ready 24 hours hence to undertake this journey to the land of promise and freedom.”

If I had a mic, I would have dropped it. I turned away abruptly and walked back to the house. I saw Commodore Timmons step forward to speak in my place. As I walked inside, I heard him tell them to eat now, relax and rest. After this, they would be busy.

John had brought bourbon, but I had my own, which Amos fetched for me from upstairs. I retreated to the office and occupied the chair at the desk. It was time for tobacco and bourbon. Supper and schmoozing would follow. Somewhere in there, poor Amos had to propose and I had to come to an understanding with Grace. But tobacco and bourbon for now.

*** ***

The gentlemen slowly filtered back in, but I still felt alone. They were acting different around me now. Treating me like I was of different, higher standing than they were. I realized that I had just created a cult of personality. Just to overhear the hushed conversations while I sat looking out the window, I realized something dramatic had just happened.

Supper was called and I left for the dining room. The men all followed. The glazed, adoring looks in the women’s eyes confirmed my suspicions. Though I’d always known that I had a presence, I never realized what it could do. I really wanted to wait a while before I did that again. I reminded myself that those were to be Emma Lazarus’s words in the sonnet she wrote to help raise funds for the Statue of Liberty pedestal. I had to make sure what I had just said hadn’t been written down. That was a theft that I wasn’t willing to make. Hell, stealing famous lines was for politicians, not for the likes of me.

Everyone was still milling around the table and seats hadn’t been taken yet, when I spied Clara and summoned her to me. First, I had to tell her honestly how elegant both she and Peter looked. That was more than true. I would have voted them ‘best dressed,’ if we did such a thing. Then I pointedly pulled a dictator move and told her that I wanted any record of that speech destroyed. Naturally, that confused her but I was adamant. She finally agreed with a look of confusion on her face. She had thought they were amazingly powerful words and wanted to publish them. I expressly forbid it.

I took my spot at the head of the table and said all of the right things. I also took a moment to tell them about the plans for the “Marine House” and alluded to Mrs. Langdon’s gracious and generous offer of her home to become this place, with her as head of the charity. This brought the proper polite applause and she gave a blushing graceful curtsy. I didn’t go on; I simply invited the staff to serve and sat back down.

The staff apparently were fed ahead of time, because there were no grumbling tummies. I just hoped they had better fare than we got. The house needed a new chef.

Look in my eyes, what do you see?

The Cult of Personality

I know your anger

I know your dreams

I've been everything you want to be

I'm the Cult of Personality

- Corey Glover, Vernon Reid, Muzz Skillings, Will Calhoun