One of my earliest memories occurred in a small N.C. town in the early '60s. An older kid told me he knew where the devil was, and could release him upon the world at will, if he desired. He didn't use those exact words. This kid turned out to be a real moron but bear with me.
Laying on his kitchen linoleum floor, we faced a cabinet. He slowly pulled back the cedar door and there was a single can of Deviled Ham wrapped tight in white paper. A dancing red devil with a pitchfork on the label smiled back at me.
Even in his dark eerie kitchen, at only four or five, I suspected this kid was full of shit. Although, those were not the exact words I was thinking. He told me all he had to do was open the paper wrapper and Satan would be released. I often wonder what became of him. Did he become a politician with a bad haircut? Maybe a preacher or an insurance salesman with a bad haircut.
Eighteen years later a mentor told me, "Just 'cause he said it don't make it true." This was fairly radical for me seeing we were in the army and my mentor was referring to an officer. There's always been something about those words. What is it the meter? The honesty? The humility in how it was said? For me, it was poetry.
They're also a filter everything I hear is run through. Never understood why it's one of my earliest memories although I can only hope it's not prophetic. Of course, if I were you, I wouldn't listen to me.