There was a man named Harry, his nickname was Hurry Harry. Hurry Harry worked in keeping a large public park. His specific duties included raking a graveled walk and keeping his area looking neat and tidy. As you might imagine from his nickname, Hurry Harry was always a nervous, twitchy type of fellow who was easily frustrated by the lack of respect others gave his park. Children kicked rocks, people dropped wrappers and what-not on the ground. With frustration he kept his area spit-spot.
Over time Hurry Harry came to think that his job of repeatedly keeping the park clean did not matter, “Anyone could do this stupid job!” He daydreamed of doing something important in the world, a job others respected and would not trample upon. Now, each piece of trash and disrupted rock on the path he saw as a personal affront. Anger seethed beneath the surface and finally exploded one day when Hurry Harry walked off the job and did not come back.
Of course, with Hurry Harry not there his part of the park rapidly deteriorated. Other groundskeepers came to the Master Groundskeeper; they wanted to put in extra time to take care of Harry’s area until someone new could be found. The Master Groundskeeper was not only a master at keeping the park running smoothly, he was also a master psychologist. He had seen how Harry was building into a volcanic-existential-crises, but he knew that he must let things play themselves out. So, he took a risky stand and left that part of the park to take care of itself; without Harry or anyone else taking his place.
Hurry Harry cast about in the world for some time. He did not find that he was any more respected at other things he did than he was at the park. In fact, other situations only seemed worse to him. He thought back on the park—that he really did love—and how beautiful it was, how fortunate he was to work there and be a part of something as noble as facilitating nature’s splendor and enabling harried people to find peace and recreation under the trees and surrounded by flowering plants. Even the graveled path grew into something of a hallowed memory for Harry.
One day Harry visited the park with others from the city, fully expecting the duties of his area to be taken over by another. To his horror he saw everything topsy-turvy! The rest of the park was splendiferous, as he would expect. But his area was in shambles. Good people avoided his part of the park; hooligans had taken it over in its neglect. Harry furiously stomped his way to the Master Groundskeeper demanding to know why that beloved part of the park had fallen into such a state of disrepair and disrepute!
The Master Groundskeeper patiently heard Harry out. When Harry wound down he simply said, “Why Harry, that is your job. Why blame me?” It dawned upon Harry that his role in the park was essential, that it was his neglect that made possible this nightmarish scene. It took time and determination for Harry to bring that part of the park back into order.
Now, instead of calling him Hurry Harry, others used his proper name, Harold. Harold means the ruler of an army, and the army he benevolently ruled was his part of the park. As he courageously brought back order and cleanliness the hooligans left and good people found it safe and inviting to return. Other groundskeepers were inspired by Harold’s calm, clearheaded approach to his work. And while he could occasionally be irritated (and mostly just found it sad) when others disrespected the park, he never again doubted that this is exactly why he was needed. The End. [Well, just the beginning for the renewed Harold!]