A long time ago, a very small boy and a fresh can of worms.

A young boy walked toward an aqueduct, tracing along the fields of Fresno and being pulled to different places.

A simple fishing pole and a bucket to catch the fish in the canal, each bridge and overpass had new and bigger fish to catch. Each splash down the stream meant a whopper was waiting and the joy of catching a small bass or a big blue gill, teased out of the shaded areas, was all he needed.

Many years have passed, the canals are gone, the farms are dying or buried under asphalt, and the fish won't ever be seen again, a simple joy, a brief moment of fun, life moves on.

An old man approaches the city, with a cane in hand, used to ease his knees, with a simple goal of learning and possibly teaching, to find a new stream with different kinds of fish.

Each city, brimming with people who don't see the new possibility, can't feel the energy and won't allow the changes needed, being pulled in different directions.

But the old man is patient and willing to wait, allowing the new minds to adapt and accept the possibilities. His time is short, but the rewards are many.

Just one mind, set free from the chains that bind, to see the endless possibilities,

and it all started

with a fresh can of worms