Marshall Ramsey

The carnival engaged all five senses.  Bright colors, the smell of fried food and cheers of happy children permeated the fairgrounds like oil on canvas. The late fall afternoon found a young mother walking her five-year-old son quickly through the Midway, past the games and the fair food.  Off to the left, a single booth stood alone, almost as an afterthought.  The little boy looked over at it, seeing an mysterious older woman with a giant earring and a mole on her left cheek. The sound of the roller coaster roaring by drowned out all other sounds — except the sound of her voice. The woman called out to him, “You have a purpose.”

The little boy tugged hard on his mother’s hand, trying to go to the woman to find out what that purpose was. But his mother just pulled him along, “Come on Johnny, we’re late. We need to go home.”

The little boy rode in the back of the old minivan and watched as the carnival disappeared behind them.  A purpose. He had a purpose. But what was it?

Thirteen years later, John entered college.  One summer weekend, John and his fraternity brothers left for two days of rafting in the mountains. Copious rain had made the river particularly swift and an accident flipped the raft, plunging the group into the icy water.  John was swept down river and trapped under a limb.  Water waterboarded over his face, leaving him on the cusp of drowning. As he started to give into the fate’s grip, he heard the old woman’s voice again, “You have a purpose.”

John gathered his last remaining strength and freed himself. He shot down river and was deposited onto shore.

A decade later, John walked down the the aisle.  Three years the marriage dissolved into a puddle of indifference and lies. A job loss and bankruptcy left John literally at the end of his rope. As he stood in the empty apartment, he looked down at the chair and heard the old woman’s voice once again.  “You have a purpose.”

John screamed at the top of his lungs, “BUT WHAT IS IT?!?  I AM A FAILURE AT EVERYTHING I DO!”

His voice echoed in the empty room until there was nothing remaining but him and the silence.

Soon after John’s 40th birthday, he  began coughing up blood.  Doctors found a tumor on his left lung and he went through several brutal rounds of chemo. John, bald and vomiting, cried out to a voice what would not answer.  “WHY?  WHY AM I GOING THROUGH THIS HELL?”

Silence answered him with nothing. But he knew. He knew that he had a purpose.

And because of it, John survived.

Five years later, John was walking though the park.  He had remarried and found happiness.  His new job was going well and he felt he had finally found his purpose.  As he was walking, he came upon a carnival. He thought back to that day so long ago when he was a little boy.  And then he saw the booth.  He ran to the old woman and stopped.  Breathless, he finally would get the answer he had sought for so long.

“WHAT IS MY — pant pant — MY PURPOSE?!?”

The old woman, who strangely did not look different, just said, “You will soon find out.”

John stormed away from the booth.  He ran out of the park and into the street. There he saw something that horrified him.  A toddler had walked in front of a bus. John did not think. He just ran and shoved the little boy out of the way.

The bus hit John, crushing him.

As he lay dying on the pavement, he heard the old woman’s voice, “This John, is your purpose.”

Then John saw the little boy grow up. First he graduated with honors from high school. From high school, he accepted a scholarship to Duke University where he graduated in three years with a 4.0 grade-point average. The little boy went to John Hopkins and graduated top in his class from there as well. The little boy quickly became the top cancer researcher at MD Anderson in Houston.  And right as John died, he saw the little boy cure cancer.

And as John felt a warm glow cradle his soul, he felt peace. He finally knew his purpose.

I went to Hob Nob yesterday (it’s the Mississippi Economic Council’s signature event). Think Neshoba County Fair without red dirt, harness racing and cabins. There are speeches from politicians, gobs of banana pudding and more importantly, the opportunity to shoot the bull with folks you haven’t seen in a while.  Right before lunch, the Governor spoke.  Say what you will about Governor Phil Bryant, he’s a very good speaker. He gives an excellent “rah rah” stump speech.  And yesterday’s was classic Phil.

Especially the part about how he is declaring November “Innovation Month.”  It received strong applause from the business-oriented crowd.  Buttons and copies of the proclamation were passed out.  There was a rousing AMEN from the congregation.

And I was one of those who cheered.

Hooray innovation! Innovation good! Hooray!

But part of me wanted to cry out, “What about the other 11 months of the year? We had better darn well be innovating every single day.”

The world is changing around us. Rapidly. We know that in Mississippi.  After NAFTA, the local textile mill disappeared. And while the Internet has brought us so many blessings, it has disrupted so many of the institutions that we once took for granted. The last 20 years have shown us that we have to reinvent ourselves at an ever-increasing frequency.  As Red said in Shawshank Redemption, we have to “Get busy living or get busy dying.”

Get busy living or get busy dying. That’s innovation. We can no longer sit in our comfort zones. We can no longer depend on things being the same.  They won’t be. And we will be left behind.

The Governor stepped off the stage and lunch was served. As the business men and women filed out of the Coliseum, I wondered if they were thinking the same thing I was. If not, they have better start soon. Innovation is more than about a proclamation. It’s about our very survival.