Vulcan Milano’s Promise

Dear Friends,
Please excuse the length of this post. It’s longer than usual. I will be offline a few days, so for those of you who don’t mind reading my posts, I thought you wouldn’t mind reading a bit each day if that suits you. It’s a story about a man named Vulcan Milano and his dream to help the world. Thank you.

Vulcan Milano’s Promise

Though his strong body and bright mind did their best of convincing him otherwise, Vulcan Milano reached retirement age. This master builder and metal worker had made a secret commitment long ago. A promise that could only be honored while he had both resources and sinew. It required every last bit of scrap from Vulcan’s amusement business – and could possibly take several years – he wasn’t sure. Vulcan had also promised his wife, Millicent a peaceful retirement filled with grandchildren visits and sunset walks along the beach. He would not let her down.

So Vulcan Milano began. He toiled alone, day after day, night after night fashioning a teeter-totter the likes of which no man had ever seen. For this would be no ordinary teeter totter, but a testament to the life of a passionate individual and a gift to the world. After nine months of intense labor the teeter-totter was finished. Vulcan was pleased. Never before had such a beautiful seesaw graced his factory floor. The dark green triangular fulcrum appeared deceptively small. The bright sky-blue, ten-thousand footlong teeter-totter shone beneath the florescent lights. Truly it was a marvelous thing to behold.

Vulcan then called in his best amusement movers. One-hundred burly men and one-hundred equally powerful women cast steel hooks around the magnificent seesaw. Following Vulcan’s instructions, the ten-thousand footlong amusement was brought to an enormous expanse of sleepy grass by the east-west sea. A tear escaped Vulcan’s eye as he unveiled his final masterpiece to Millicent. She admired the shiny teeter-totter awhile. How proud she was of her husband. After staring a good long time, Millicent turned to Vulcan. “My darling husband, such a magnificent thing to behold. Why ever did you build it so large?”

Vulcan expected this. He’d been preparing his response for over fifty-five years. The first time he ever held a socket wrench and felt the heaviness of it in his calloused hands. He understood the weight of possibility when things are new. He took his wife’s delicate hand in his. Vulcan’s eyes remained fixed on the magnificent teeter-totter. His words poured out slowly, “Loving wife, anyone is free to ride. They can choose their seat and sit supporting each other. If too many people sit on one end, the seesaw will sink into the grass. If too few people sit on the opposite end, they will go so far up that they will be lonely. It will take cooperation from all sides. If they manage agreement, they will fly up and down as never before. The wind, the sun, the very clouds will lift their tummies and make them joyful.”

Millicent softly nodded her head. The young eyes of the selfless man she’d married all those years ago, had grown brighter with age if that was possible. She posed a second and final question, “My darling husband, why ever did you paint the fulcrum such a plain green when all your fulcrums have been silver with your bright red logo?”

A smile pulled Vulcan’s lips upward. He gave Millicent’s hand a gentle squeeze. His bright eyes moved to the calm sea where the orange sun was painting cream-sickle ripples across the water. “Loving wife,” he spoke in whispers now, “some riders know the particulars of levers and fulcrums, mechanics, science and mathematics. I painted the fulcrum green that it may hide in the grass and be lost as an unimportant thing.”

Millicent and Vulcan watched the glorious sun sinking into its evening slumber. The sea of aqua glass darkened. Vulcan patted the ten-thousand-foot, sky-blue teeter-totter then turned to Millicent, “And now my darling wife, let’s take a long walk upon the cooling sands…”



Thank you. May you dream of riding a giant seesaw and smile as your tummy lifts…

Fulcrum created with Prisma pencils, July 23, 2014 with a light heart and heavy eyelids 🙂