Everyone in the small kingdom was aflutter as the rumors flew hither and thither about the utter elegance of the emperor's new finery. It was said that the material was woven by magical elves in the northernmost kingdom. It was further said that only the very most sophisticated, most intelligent and absolutely the most virtuous could actually see this most precious woven treasure.
Finally, the day arrived when the king would parade his most majestic adorned self in a golden chariot pulled by 12 white horses, while hundreds of his soldiers on horseback waving gold and white flags led the way. The people lined the streets just to catch a glance of the emperor's regal splendor. Everyone commented on the truly wondrous quality of the emperor's robe, for they were all highly intelligent and sophisticated and, of course, most virtuous.
The procession somberly made its way down the broad avenue as a hushed silence of awe overcame the wide-mouthed crowd. One very small boy, with a great deal of determination, made his way to the front so he too could catch a glance of the emperor's new clothes. This miniature person looked, stared, rubbed his eyes and then, in a very loud voice, said,
"The emperor has no clothes. He is naked!"
The crowd was momentarily stunned and abruptly jarred into the reality that, indeed, their emperor was buff naked, and this is how the story goes.
Fast forward, to Dec. 28, 2011, to a departure area in the St. Louis Airport with a plane bound for Philadelphia. Flight times continued to be pushed back as the agent at the gate assured the frustrated passengers the plane was just parked outside the gate. We could not see anything outside the large windows because it was dark and rows of seats blocked us from getting closer to the window. Passengers were frequently assured by the man at the desk that even though the departure times kept getting later, the plane was waiting for us. Anxious passengers made frequent attempts to peer out the windows and muttered that they did believe they saw a plane. After a long while, a very small boy with dark curls maneuvered himself away from his mother, crawled under two rows of seats and pressed his face and hands on the glass, staring intently at the outside darkness. After a while, he stepped back and yelled to his mother.
"Mommy, I'm sorry but there isn't a plane outside."
Everyone in the waiting area heard him, including the agent at the desk who pretended to busy himself with some papers. During the hours of delays, there has been an official-looking man with a card hanging around his neck who stopped by occasionally and chatted in a low voice with the agent. He disappeared and reappeared. He happened to be present when the child made his proclamation. I could no longer contain myself and navigated to the official-looking man and asked him what is the real status of the plane. He smiled and replied:
"Wonder Woman is piloting the plane, and it is invisible."
I smiled back, knowing he was obviously not supposed to share the actual status of our plane.
There is a moral to this modern tale. It's up to the reader to determine exactly what it is.
(Dr. Donna Pinter is founder and director of Psychological Services Clinic, Bloomsburg, Danville and Sunbury. "Slice of Life" appears on this page each Sunday.)