My father has always hated his father, I never fully understood why, but it has always been like that. When I was little I was forbidden to talk to my grandfather alone, they were afraid he would make me like him: crazy.
I didn't know my grandfather was interested in magic, I had no idea, and so I accepted my father's strict rules without ever questioning them. When I was in the company of my mother or grandmother, my grandfather never talked about magic but he let slip some thoughts on politics, philosophy and sometimes he happened to make speeches about religion and the lack of faith on the part of people. Sometimes he let out some vulgarity and it came naturally to me to laugh, perhaps because I found genuinely funny how he got angry. He wasn't an angry man, he never raised his hands on people and especially not on his wife. His anger was always mixed with a theatricality that showed itself in the gestures and the way of speaking; maybe he did it on purpose, maybe he liked playing the part of the angry man.
His gruff appearance could deceive anyone, but in fact he was a kind man, always ready to help others. The African American community in our neighborhood loved him because it was natural for him to listen to those in difficulty, make loans without expecting anything in return, and offer food aid to those who had nothing.
"Whoever causes pain, consequently kills himself," he always said.
Once I happened to see a scar on his shoulder, the imprint of a bullet left by a racist policeman. My grandfather, unlike a good portion of my family—including me—couldn't stand the police. He always called them 'fascists' or 'pro-Nazis', my grandmother told him to keep these things for himself... Probably that was one of the few compromises he agreed to make.
My grandfather was a stubborn man, but a lover of far left philosophy. He had a small library in which he took refuge to read books on books by great thinkers of history. He despised right-wing philosophy and even the 'neutral' one, he considered both of them as 'typical Western thoughts'.
When I was little, and I heard my father say that my grandfather was crazy, I thought he was referring to that priceless kindness, the way he opposed the police, the way he got angry and his passion for philosophy. As I said: Grandpa had never talked about magic. However, as a teenager, I learned about that dark side of my grandfather and realized the reason behind my father's concern. In that small library there were either philosophy books or entire books dedicated to alchemy, dark magic, demonology, the evocation of spirits, and so on. Grandpa always had amulets which, according to him, could protect him from evil forces. In addition, I had heard some stories of my father that had grandpa as a protagonist who was doing magical rituals or talking to 'invisible creatures'. Little by little, but inevitably, my opinion of him changed. My grandfather turned, in my eyes, into a crazy old man.
Three years ago, on my eighteenth birthday, my grandfather, after the family party, took me to the library to give me a present and surprised me with a question:
"What is justice for you?"
"Does it have anything to do with the gift? You don't want to keep me here doing philosophy, I hope..."
"You're becoming a man, Benjamin, it's time for you to ask yourself certain questions. So, what is justice for you?"
I didn't know my grandfather was interested in magic, I had no idea, and so I accepted my father's strict rules without ever questioning them. When I was in the company of my mother or grandmother, my grandfather never talked about magic but he let slip some thoughts on politics, philosophy and sometimes he happened to make speeches about religion and the lack of faith on the part of people. Sometimes he let out some vulgarity and it came naturally to me to laugh, perhaps because I found genuinely funny how he got angry. He wasn't an angry man, he never raised his hands on people and especially not on his wife. His anger was always mixed with a theatricality that showed itself in the gestures and the way of speaking; maybe he did it on purpose, maybe he liked playing the part of the angry man.
His gruff appearance could deceive anyone, but in fact he was a kind man, always ready to help others. The African American community in our neighborhood loved him because it was natural for him to listen to those in difficulty, make loans without expecting anything in return, and offer food aid to those who had nothing.
"Whoever causes pain, consequently kills himself," he always said.
Once I happened to see a scar on his shoulder, the imprint of a bullet left by a racist policeman. My grandfather, unlike a good portion of my family—including me—couldn't stand the police. He always called them 'fascists' or 'pro-Nazis', my grandmother told him to keep these things for himself... Probably that was one of the few compromises he agreed to make.
My grandfather was a stubborn man, but a lover of far left philosophy. He had a small library in which he took refuge to read books on books by great thinkers of history. He despised right-wing philosophy and even the 'neutral' one, he considered both of them as 'typical Western thoughts'.
When I was little, and I heard my father say that my grandfather was crazy, I thought he was referring to that priceless kindness, the way he opposed the police, the way he got angry and his passion for philosophy. As I said: Grandpa had never talked about magic. However, as a teenager, I learned about that dark side of my grandfather and realized the reason behind my father's concern. In that small library there were either philosophy books or entire books dedicated to alchemy, dark magic, demonology, the evocation of spirits, and so on. Grandpa always had amulets which, according to him, could protect him from evil forces. In addition, I had heard some stories of my father that had grandpa as a protagonist who was doing magical rituals or talking to 'invisible creatures'. Little by little, but inevitably, my opinion of him changed. My grandfather turned, in my eyes, into a crazy old man.
Three years ago, on my eighteenth birthday, my grandfather, after the family party, took me to the library to give me a present and surprised me with a question:
"What is justice for you?"
"Does it have anything to do with the gift? You don't want to keep me here doing philosophy, I hope..."
"You're becoming a man, Benjamin, it's time for you to ask yourself certain questions. So, what is justice for you?"
"I don't know... I've never thought about it—"
"At your age, I was afraid to ask that question too," he said, smiling. "When dealing with such delicate discussions, it's instinctive to hide and avoid the subject... especially if you belong to an oppressed community."
"Sure, sure... But does all this have to do with my gift or...?"
"Answer my question, Benjamin: what is justice?"
I gave up. "Well... I think... that's what allows everyone to be happy."
"And who makes sure that justice works?"
"I don't know. The state. Grandpa, are you questioning me? Is this your gift?!"
"Are you... happy?" he asked me out of the blue.
I didn't answer.
"Are you happy, Benjamin? Answer sincerely."
"Yes, I am."
"You lie. I can see it in your eyes that you're lying."
"Look, Grandpa, I really have to go and I don't have time for these things. I know you want to talk to me and if you want we will do it another time, okay? But now I've other commitments, I promise you that one day we'll start talking about everything you want."
"Show me that you're happy," he told me.
"What do you want me to do? Do you want a smile?"
"No, tell me what makes you happy. Show me that there's justice and that you're happy thanks to this justice."
"Grandpa, what the fu—what are you saying? I don't understand. This is my birthday, do you understand? You can't act like this on my birthday! If you like, we can talk about it another day... but not today!" I exclaimed irritably.
"I just asked you to tell me what makes you happy."
"I don't know... I... um... well, I have a home, a family and friends. I have more than what I could ask for in life, I don't need anything else—"
"What about your future? Your dreams?"
"Yes, I also have all those things—"
"Are you pursuing your dreams, Benjamin?"
"I'm doing what I want—"
"So it's a 'no'?"
"I didn't say it's a 'no', it's just that—"
"So tell me what dreams you're chasing, Benjamin. It doesn't have to be difficult. You can't tell me that all your happiness is based on things you already have and that can only disappear."
"Stop interrupting me!"
"I just want to understand, Benjamin."
I'll be honest, in those days I had nothing but broken dreams. I know, it may sound melodramatic, but it's the truth. My dream of becoming a doctor had gone to hell because of the cost of studying and my dream of becoming a musician had crashed into a wall because of my mother. Put simply, my life at that time was particularly bitter, but, perhaps out of hope or perhaps out of optimism, I wasn't yet willing to give up and compromise.
My grandfather knew nothing of these things, it was I who had decided not to involve him, yet, at that moment, it seemed that he understood everything about me, as if he could see inside me. It was strange, difficult to bear and irritating.
"I know the truth, Benjamin," he told me. "You're contenting yourself with the moderate well-being that has been granted to you by those in power. You've been told that what you have now is happiness, but you know perfectly well that this is just a breeze that will doze off before you can die of old age. None of this is happiness."
"So what should I do? Envy the rich whites who can afford three or four houses? Should I dedicate my entire life to wanting what others have? No, forget it, I don't want to spend my life as a grudge! I don't want to surround myself with enemies, but with friends!"
"I'm not asking you to envy the powerful, but to dedicate your life to obtaining true justice. The world needs young people who are ready to fight for what is right. I don't want to teach you that it's better to survive, I want to reveal to you that you can live. You can live a life without having to bear the weight of the chains—"
"At your age, I was afraid to ask that question too," he said, smiling. "When dealing with such delicate discussions, it's instinctive to hide and avoid the subject... especially if you belong to an oppressed community."
"Sure, sure... But does all this have to do with my gift or...?"
"Answer my question, Benjamin: what is justice?"
I gave up. "Well... I think... that's what allows everyone to be happy."
"And who makes sure that justice works?"
"I don't know. The state. Grandpa, are you questioning me? Is this your gift?!"
"Are you... happy?" he asked me out of the blue.
I didn't answer.
"Are you happy, Benjamin? Answer sincerely."
"Yes, I am."
"You lie. I can see it in your eyes that you're lying."
"Look, Grandpa, I really have to go and I don't have time for these things. I know you want to talk to me and if you want we will do it another time, okay? But now I've other commitments, I promise you that one day we'll start talking about everything you want."
"Show me that you're happy," he told me.
"What do you want me to do? Do you want a smile?"
"No, tell me what makes you happy. Show me that there's justice and that you're happy thanks to this justice."
"Grandpa, what the fu—what are you saying? I don't understand. This is my birthday, do you understand? You can't act like this on my birthday! If you like, we can talk about it another day... but not today!" I exclaimed irritably.
"I just asked you to tell me what makes you happy."
"I don't know... I... um... well, I have a home, a family and friends. I have more than what I could ask for in life, I don't need anything else—"
"What about your future? Your dreams?"
"Yes, I also have all those things—"
"Are you pursuing your dreams, Benjamin?"
"I'm doing what I want—"
"So it's a 'no'?"
"I didn't say it's a 'no', it's just that—"
"So tell me what dreams you're chasing, Benjamin. It doesn't have to be difficult. You can't tell me that all your happiness is based on things you already have and that can only disappear."
"Stop interrupting me!"
"I just want to understand, Benjamin."
I'll be honest, in those days I had nothing but broken dreams. I know, it may sound melodramatic, but it's the truth. My dream of becoming a doctor had gone to hell because of the cost of studying and my dream of becoming a musician had crashed into a wall because of my mother. Put simply, my life at that time was particularly bitter, but, perhaps out of hope or perhaps out of optimism, I wasn't yet willing to give up and compromise.
My grandfather knew nothing of these things, it was I who had decided not to involve him, yet, at that moment, it seemed that he understood everything about me, as if he could see inside me. It was strange, difficult to bear and irritating.
"I know the truth, Benjamin," he told me. "You're contenting yourself with the moderate well-being that has been granted to you by those in power. You've been told that what you have now is happiness, but you know perfectly well that this is just a breeze that will doze off before you can die of old age. None of this is happiness."
"So what should I do? Envy the rich whites who can afford three or four houses? Should I dedicate my entire life to wanting what others have? No, forget it, I don't want to spend my life as a grudge! I don't want to surround myself with enemies, but with friends!"
"I'm not asking you to envy the powerful, but to dedicate your life to obtaining true justice. The world needs young people who are ready to fight for what is right. I don't want to teach you that it's better to survive, I want to reveal to you that you can live. You can live a life without having to bear the weight of the chains—"
"Do you want to make me the new Malcolm X? No... No, I refuse. Forget it."
"So you want to spend the rest of your days hoping that someone else will do something to improve the situation for some people? I know, Benjamin, what you're thinking, but you have to believe me when I tell you that things can change. Nothing is destined to remain identical to itself. You can grasp destiny and improve the world. You're young, you're full of energy, you belong to a generation that will shape the future of this nation! Why hold back?"
"Because you look at me as if I were a special person!" I exclaimed forcefully. "Grandpa, I'm not special. I'm a person like many others, okay? I'm just a guy who does what he can to keep going. I'm not a revolutionary, I'm not the hero of the United States and I'm not the magician who can change things with the snap of his fingers. What you see is what I am, there's nothing else. Don't try to make me something I'm not."
Those words came out to me with regret and I remember that my grandfather's eyes were painted with sadness... he seemed almost on the verge of tears. I turned away so as not to look him in the eye. My grandfather came up and, putting a hand on my shoulder, said to me:
"You're right, but you're wrong."
I didn't even say a word. The bitterness I had in my mouth prevented the words from leaving my throat.
"I left the Clock Tower precisely because I didn't tolerate the existence of people capable of saving the world who preferred to do nothing. Whoever has the power should use it to change things, to change the world. Those who can control the flow of the river should make the land fertile, not keeping all the water for themselves."
"The... Clock Tower...?"
"You have a gift, Benjamin. You don't realize it, but you have a great gift... The strength you have within you will show itself, one day... and that day you will change the world."
My grandfather died two months later.
Things haven't changed, I haven't changed. My doubts and my prejudices still breathe ... Friedrich told me that I'm a magus, but surely he's wrong. No one in my family has ever done Magecraft and no one has ever fought a war like this. My family has never been particularly special and consequently neither have I ever been.
But if Saber is right... If that Grail can grant every wish... maybe things can change. I'm nobody of importance, but the Holy Grail is a treasure of immense importance. I could use it to change the world... to make my grandfather's dream come true.
I don't know if I can trust Saber, she seems like a woman with different problems, but she is my only chance to do something really good and useful. She's the key to everything. Thanks to her, thanks to the Holy Grail, I, Benjamin Palmer, will make the world a better place.
"So you want to spend the rest of your days hoping that someone else will do something to improve the situation for some people? I know, Benjamin, what you're thinking, but you have to believe me when I tell you that things can change. Nothing is destined to remain identical to itself. You can grasp destiny and improve the world. You're young, you're full of energy, you belong to a generation that will shape the future of this nation! Why hold back?"
"Because you look at me as if I were a special person!" I exclaimed forcefully. "Grandpa, I'm not special. I'm a person like many others, okay? I'm just a guy who does what he can to keep going. I'm not a revolutionary, I'm not the hero of the United States and I'm not the magician who can change things with the snap of his fingers. What you see is what I am, there's nothing else. Don't try to make me something I'm not."
Those words came out to me with regret and I remember that my grandfather's eyes were painted with sadness... he seemed almost on the verge of tears. I turned away so as not to look him in the eye. My grandfather came up and, putting a hand on my shoulder, said to me:
"You're right, but you're wrong."
I didn't even say a word. The bitterness I had in my mouth prevented the words from leaving my throat.
"I left the Clock Tower precisely because I didn't tolerate the existence of people capable of saving the world who preferred to do nothing. Whoever has the power should use it to change things, to change the world. Those who can control the flow of the river should make the land fertile, not keeping all the water for themselves."
"The... Clock Tower...?"
"You have a gift, Benjamin. You don't realize it, but you have a great gift... The strength you have within you will show itself, one day... and that day you will change the world."
My grandfather died two months later.
Things haven't changed, I haven't changed. My doubts and my prejudices still breathe ... Friedrich told me that I'm a magus, but surely he's wrong. No one in my family has ever done Magecraft and no one has ever fought a war like this. My family has never been particularly special and consequently neither have I ever been.
But if Saber is right... If that Grail can grant every wish... maybe things can change. I'm nobody of importance, but the Holy Grail is a treasure of immense importance. I could use it to change the world... to make my grandfather's dream come true.
I don't know if I can trust Saber, she seems like a woman with different problems, but she is my only chance to do something really good and useful. She's the key to everything. Thanks to her, thanks to the Holy Grail, I, Benjamin Palmer, will make the world a better place.
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| 'Hidden potential' by BikoWolf |
