It's What You Scatter

Sent to me in an email from my Dad:

I was at the corner grocery store buying some early potatoes... I noticed a small boy, delicate of bone and feature, ragged but clean, hungrily appraising a basket of freshly picked green peas.
I paid for my potatoes but was also drawn to the display of fresh green peas. I am a pushover for creamed peas and new potatoes.
Pondering the peas, I couldn't help overhearing the conversation between Mr. Miller (the store owner) and the ragged boy next to me.

'Hello Barry, how are you today?'

'H'lo, Mr. Miller. Fine, thank ya. Jus' admirin' them peas. They sure look good'

'They are good, Barry. How's your Ma?'
'Fine. Gittin' stronger alla' time.'
'Good. Anything I can help you with?'
'No, Sir. Jus' admirin' them peas.'
'Would you like to take some home?' asked Mr. Miller.

'No, Sir. Got nuthin' to pay for 'em with.'

'Well, what have you to trade me for some of those peas?'

'All I got's my prize marble here.'

'Is that right? Let me see it', said Miller..

'Here 'tis. She's a dandy.'

'I can see that. Hmm mmm, only thing is this one is blue and I sort of go for red. Do you have a red one like this at home?' the store owner asked.

'Not zackley but almost.'

'Tell you what... Take this sack of peas home with you and next trip this way let me look at that red marble'. Mr. Miller told the boy.

'Sure will. Thanks Mr. Miller.'


Mrs. Miller, who had been standing nearby, came over to help me. With a smile she said, 'There are two other boys like him in our community, all three are in very poor circumstances. Jim just loves to bargain with them for peas, apples, tomatoes, or whatever.
When they come back with their red marbles, and they always do, he decides he doesn't like red after all and he sends them home with a bag of produce for a green marble or an orange one, when they come on their next trip to the store.'

I left the store smiling to myself, impressed with this man. A short time later I moved to Colorado , but I never forgot the story of this man, the boys, and their bartering for marbles.

Several years went by, each more rapid than the previous one. Just recently I had occasion to visit some old friends in that Idaho community and while I was there learned that Mr. Miller had died. They were having his visitation that evening and knowing my friends wanted to go, I agreed to accompany them. Upon arrival at the mortuary we fell into line to meet the relatives of the deceased and to offer whatever words of comfort we could.

Ahead of us in line were three young men. One was in an army uniform and the other two wore nice haircuts, dark suits and white shirts...all very professional looking... They approached Mrs. Miller, standing composed and smiling by her husband's casket.

Each of the young men hugged her, kissed her on the cheek, spoke briefly with her and moved on to the casket. Her misty light blue eyes followed them as, one by one; each young man stopped briefly and placed his own warm hand over the cold pale hand in the casket. Each left the mortuary awkwardly, wiping his eyes.

Our turn came to meet Mrs. Miller. I told her who I was and reminded her of the story from those many years ago and what she had told me about her husband's bartering for marbles. With her eyes glistening, she took my hand and led me to the casket.

'Those three young men who just left were the boys I told you about.

They just told me how they appreciated the things Jim 'traded' them. Now, at last, when Jim could not change his mind about color or size......they came to pay their debt.'

'We've never had a great deal of the wealth of this world,' she confided, 'but right now, Jim would consider himself the richest man in Idaho...'

With loving gentleness she lifted the lifeless fingers of her deceased husband. Resting underneath were three exquisitely shined red marbles.

The Moral:
We will not be remembered by our words, but by our kind deeds. Life is not measured by the breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath.

 

Oo-ooh That Smell

Paul Krugman directs us to a pdf file of a book called The Great Stink of London by Stephen Halliday, which chronicals the debate over construction of a sewer system in London in the mid 19th century.  The quote he chose was one in which The Economist, a publication that is still being printed, stated that the suffering caused by lack of a sewer system was divinely ordained.  While that quote was interesting enough to repost to my Facebook page, it was a later paragraph that really caught my eye:

"A question to Oxford about its plans for obtaining a clean and economical supply of water drew the answer 'never, and not likely to until compelled by Parliamentary interposition.'  Dr. John Snow, who hypothesised that cholera epidemics were water-borne, drew attention to the problems which arose from such attitudes while addressing the Social Science Congress in Bristol in 1849.  He stated that 'our present machinery must be greatly enlarged, radically altered and endowed with new powers,' above all with the power of 'doing away with that form of liberty to which some communities cling, the sacred power to poison to death not only themselves but their neighbors.'"

The reason I noticed it was because it reminded me of  a few years ago when Governor Rick Perry of Texas was battling with the EPA over pollutants produced by oil refineries.  EPA regulations were expected to "... improve air quality for an estimated 240 million Americans, preventing a projected 30,000 premature deaths and up to 15,000 nonfatal heart attacks, as well as hundreds of thousands of cases of asthma and other respiratory ailments."  A hyperbolic comparison of the time said that when Saddam Hussein poisons his people, it's called genocide.  If Rick Perry does it, it's called 'state's rights.'

Elsewhere on my reading list, for the past several days a lot is being written about Paul Ryan's new budget, which thematically isn't that different than his old budgets, though updated for current events, so none of the econobloggers is really saying anything different than what they've been saying since 2010.  Two exceptions:  the Onion made fun of Ryan's youthful appearance, and Dana Milbank compared the budget to a Mad Lib.  It was clever enough that I decided to try it for myself with Gaby giving the answers.
    Gaby is from Mexico.  Apparently they don't have Mad Libs in Mexico.
    After a short explanation, I asked him first for an adjective, and then all the rest.  The result:

The former Republican vice presidential candidate’s budget eliminates skinny loopholes in the tax code, cutting the needle and the fish deductions. It reduces spending on the rose program by 69% and the glass program by 21%. Retirees would see paddling, students would experience pedaling and the poor would be cut.

Let There Be (More) Light

Daylight Savings Time begins today, and for people like me, project oriented, yet nocturnal, it means another hour to work in the garage.   At least, that's the plan.  I got myself a new toy, and I'm hoping that having spent money on a scroll saw will inspire me to acually get out and use it.  I have a few projects in mind to do as soon as the weather is consistently warmer.  The biggest obstacles of course are Facebook and general failures of time management.
    I'm spending this weekend at home in front of the computer with a massive head cold.  I feel like I've got a baseball sized glob of Jello behind my eyes and nose, and my OTC medicines are having mixed results.  I've stayed home from work on both Friday and Saturday night, which has cost me a bundle of money.  I haven't even been able to use the time off productively because sometimes it's an effort to hold up my head.
    So, I've spent a lot of time either in bed, in front of the computer watching movies and shows on Hulu, or reading on my Nook.  Gaby fixed some homemade chicken soup this evening,which was very good, and we ordered pizza last night.  I keep thinking of things I could be doing, but my energy level is so low, I don't even want to try.

I'm so bored. 

Maybe I'll try to force myself to do something when it's time for the next pill.