Those Who Really Know

"Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair."

The people knelt in humble postures chanting, waiting for the most holy moment when the long tresses cascaded from the window above the altar.

The holiest of holies sang to them of climbing up and inspiring the oppressed and it was a haunting song accompanied by guitar with a heavy bass beat to symbolize the staunchness required by those who believed.

The people looked up, reaching for the tiny scissors hanging around their necks, the symbol of suffering and shame, the instrument that left Rapunzel looking like everyone else, the one that shook her out of her ivory tower and out into a world of trial and tribulations.

Of course the real Rapunzel was not imprisoned above the altar, but a strand of her hair was enshrined in a small resin medallion above a saucer of holy tears that everyone touched as they entered the building.

The women stroked their long hair vainly and the men their bare faces with pride. New world Rapunzels and Prince Charmings dedicated to carrying on the tradition of Those Who Really Know, they were reverent and their hearts ached with a love . . .of all things exquisite and rare, of couture prices and youthful creams, Mazeratis and emaciated bodies. One must be someone to attend these services.

And the common folk waited outside hoping for a glance of these special people as they walked down the red carpet said to be woven from the original Rapunzel's hair.