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The Ruling Tribe Outside Wentzville.

It is no grand secret or surprise to anyone of our human tribal tendencies. We band together for protection, understanding, acceptance and...survival. It has always been so and will continue as long as humankind walks this planet. We band together with reasons of gender, creed, color, financial levels, love of music genus, color preference, hair styles and favorite Star Trek characters...the later being humans on the bottom of the tribal food chain. We can belong to many different tribes without betraying our alligence to the other groups with whom we cluster. It is always a unique and anxious experience for those who venture into a new tribe, but we adapt and move ahead, gaining strength, growing towards mentoring of those who enter behind us until, with power and knowledge, we may, one day, lead our tribe.

It was purely by accident, and necessity, that I joined my new tribe. It was there around me, although I hadn't noticed for quite a while. I joined without initiation, nor a helping hand. My lessons were learned through toil and experience, gaining numerous scars and scabs along the way. If I can ease the journey for some other person, my work will have the reward of a teacher watching a student enter the tribe with ease and confidence. As only a father can teach his children, it is with the utmost seriousness you must listen and learn.

It was shortly after becoming a divorced father, yet another tribe into which I was thrust, when I fell, head first, unto a secret band of tribesman who bear no name, no banner and no outward appearance that would signal others to their comradeship. Traveling 250 miles each Friday night, in the blackness of a mid-western highway, to make an 8:00am pickup of my two sons, I had tried many reasonable efforts to make the journey in comfort, but within my budget, I couldn't afford a motel room on Friday night AND Saturday night. So my travels often started at 3:00am, driving along what is known as the most dangerous stretch of all American highways. I would often arrive with the energy equal only to the zombie-living dead, eagerly awaiting check-in time at my hotel so I could collapse into a short coma before dinner. It was an existence that sapped my strength, and resolve to live. I had noticed the number of people sleeping in their vehicles at the last rest stop before my destination and, with some careful planning and packing of certain sleeping items and toiletries, I decided to join the

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