The Laws of the Ring Read Online Free Page B

example—but I did have a Game Boy that helped pass the time. One day we were sitting in the trailer on a hot afternoon, parked near a reservoir. We’d been outside all morning before coming in to grab some lunch and get out of the sun. I had been sitting on the couch playing with my Game Boy before getting up to get a drink of water. As soon as I got up, Ryan sat down, grabbed the Game Boy, and started playing with it.
    â€œGive it back,” I said.
    â€œMake me,” he said.
    This classic highbrow childhood exchange went on for a few minutes before I decided to take a stand. I very deliberately put on my shoes right in front of him. My brother could tell I was up to something, so he started saying, “You better not.” The whole time he kept his head in the Game Boy and refused to look at me.
    After I put on the shoes, I walked slowly to the front door and propped it open.
    â€œYou better not.” Still looking at the Game Boy.
    The couch sat about five feet from the front door, facing the other direction. I could see the back of Ryan’s head shaking back and forth as I plotted.
    â€œYou better not.”
    I stood behind him, between the door and the couch, and crouched into a sprinter’s stance with my right hand upraised and ready to strike. Still, he kept his eyes on the Game Boy.
    â€œYou better not.”
    But I did. I punched him hard on the arm and started running out the door almost before my fist made contact. As I sprinted away I could feel Ryan in hot pursuit.
    Ryan, two and a half years older, was stronger and faster than me, and even with the head start I could feel him gaining on me as soon as I leaped out of the trailer door. He caught me within fifty yards and tackled me to the dirt. He popped me a few times but, all in all, went pretty easy on me.
    Like animals in the wild, we each established our place in the pecking order. He was trying to teach me a lesson—as the older brother, he was in control and I better not be dumb enough to try to challenge his authority. As the younger brother just starting to assert himself and develop a mind of my own, I was letting him know that I understood his supremacy in the relationship, but that didn’t mean I was going to let him pick on me.
    Ryan and I found ways to amuse ourselves, which was a good thing. For better or worse, we were on our own until Pop finished his work and drove back to the trailer. The lesson from that summer was simple: We learned to enjoy what we had. We could have fixated on the things we didn’t have, but instead we made the most of what we had. I guess you could say we didn’t really know what we didn’t have.
    Popular culture inundates us with images of things we’re told we should have. In order to have a good life, you need a certain kind of car, a certain size home, a whole roomful of high-tech electronics and gadgets. On top of that, you have to be able to eat at the right restaurants, drink at the right clubs, and hang out with people who are as upwardly mobile and as cool as you aspire to be. Whenever I find myself looking at the things I don’t have, the old saying ignorance is bliss comes to mind. Looking back on that year in our little motor home and the fun times with my brother at parks and ponds just reminds me that satisfaction is relative. It’s great to dream big, but always be content with what you have.
    It’s easy to jump outside the umbrella, to put passion aside and chase an image of the person the media say you should be. Whenever I feel I’m spinning on this endless hamster wheel of consumption, I remember one of my favorite sayings: There are only two things that you have to do in life: You have to die, and you have to live until you die. The rest is up to you.
    So what gives you happiness? What do you love to do? Look at your life now, and find the things that already make you happy. Expand on them. At the same time look for other ways to