The Smart Family (& Bob!)

In a village called Clever, in a land called Intellect, there lived a family called Smart.

The Smart Family was smart, smarter than all of the other families in the village. The Smart Family was the smartest family in the land. It's how they got their name, oddly enough.  

There were ...

Papa Smart (Celebrated Mathematician), 

Mama Smart (Accomplished Philosopher), 

Sister Smart (Well-Respected Artist), ...

And there was Bob.

Bob Smart was not like the other Smarts. Bob loved laughing at funny noises. Bob loved watching clouds. Bob loved shiny rocks.

“Oh, Bob,” the other Smarts smiled and sighed. 

The people of Clever acknowledged the Smart Family were the smartest family in the land, even as they watched Bob chasing yet another butterfly. 

“Oh, Bob,” the people of Clever smiled and shook their heads.

Bob, of course, always smiled back at his family. He always smiled back at the people of Clever. That's just the way Bob was.

.   .   .

The time came when the people of Clever needed to retrieve more resources from the other side of Mt. Wisdom, since these kinds of stories usually involve this kind of quest. This was a problem. 

The problem was not crossing the mountain. All that required was putting one foot in front of the other. The problem was the troublesome Wisenheimer, who protected Mt. Wisdom.

The people of Clever had not needed to cross Mt. Wisdom for generations, and the only information they had about the troublesome Wisenheimer was based on legends and folk tales. For people accustomed to the rational, legends and folk tales were vague and frightening things.

The old tales described a creature that blocked the villagers' travels across the pass. The monster was said to create lightning that chased the villagers back down the mountain.  In short, oral tradition made it known: the troublesome Wisenheimer was not very welcoming.    

.   .   .

The people of Clever agreed the Smart Family should try to cross the pass since they were the most likely to find a way past the Wisenheimer. The people of Clever also agreed Bob had to go with them.

The Smart Family began climbing Mt. Wisdom.  

Up they marched.  

Up they trudged.  

Up they dragged themselves.  

Up, up, up they went. 

Finally, they reached the top. There, they found the legendary Wisenheimer, a swarthy, hairy fellow with a most fearsome smirk.

Papa Smart asked the Wisenheimer to pass. He felt a direct approach would be strategically appropriate.

“I’ll let you pass if you can answer one question,” snickered the Wisenheimer.  “What is life all about?”

Papa Smart stroked his chin knowingly.  “Well, life is a mysterious X.  If X equals …”

ZAP!  Papa Smart went rolling back down the mountain toward Clever.

“Sorry, wrong number!"

The remaining Smarts who were paying attention --Mama and Sister --understood getting past the Wisenheimer would be trickier than they had hoped.

"Want to try, Mom?”  giggled the Wisenheimer.  “What is life all about?”

Mama Smart began cautiously, “Well, Plato would say, …”         

ZAP!  And Mama Smart flew head over heels, back down the mountain toward Clever.

“Plato would say nope!” cackled the Wisenheimer.  “How about you, girl?  What is life all about?”   

Sister Smart did not have her supplies for painting.  In a panic, she tried to act out the meaning of life through interpretive dance.

This amused the Wisenheimer for a little while.  

ZAP!  Away Sister Smart tumbled.

“And you, boy?”  the Wisenheimer asked Bob, who was examining a particularly nice stone on the ground.  “Would you like to try? What is life all about?”             

Bob smiled up at the Wisenheimer.  “I don’t know. What is life all about?”  

And he went back to looking at his stone.

.   .   .

The Wisenheimer did not know the answer, either. That's why he was asking these people who kept bothering him! It was obvious they didn't know, either, but they pretended like they did and that left him feeling unfulfilled and irate. 

The Wisenheimer tried to think of an answer, but none came. Maybe the boy was right --maybe there was no answer. Maybe it was okay not to know.

The Wisenheimer found this to be a most impressive solution. 

He had to work at it, but the Wisenheimer finally got the left corner of his mouth to perk up, and his smirk grew into an awkward grin. He smiled back at the boy. 

“Me neither.  Do you want to see my rock collection?”

.   .   .

From that day on, the Wisenheimer happily allowed the people of Clever to travel across Mt. Wisdom to get whatever they needed from the other side.

It was the least he could do.  

After all, his friend Bob Smart –the smartest person he knew –was one of them.

THE  END