TBD on Ning
Another prompt
These quotes /statements reflect the theme of my college's annual convocation for this year. Pick one that speaks to you, and speak to us.
- Nature does not bestow virtue; to be good is an art. (Seneca)
- The world isn't fair. Sometimes, to get where you want, you have to sacrifice some integrity.
- Personal gain can be the enemy of the greater social good.
- Be the change you wish to see in the world. (Ghandi)
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Permalink Reply by Westerly_2 on
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I was having a coffee with my friend Connie outside of Starbuck’s last week. I don’t recall if it was the one on the corner of Madison and Manzanita, the one on the next corner of Madison and Auburn, the one on Auburn and Oak or the one on Oak and Myrtle; you just go around the circle wherever you are. So we took out a small loan at the register for our lattes and took a seat outside near the smiling Irish Setter.
“I just read the most inspiring saying,” I told Connie after we were settled. It’s from Gandhi. He says, ‘Be the change you want to see.’ What do you think? Your inner spirit can transform your world.”
Connie mused a minute while she nibbled on a scone. Then she frowned.
“I’d like to see some change,” she said, more fiercely than I had expected. “I’d like my son to change into an employed person. Should I change myself into a cheerleader for job-li-ness? Wear a little pleated skirt and a top with “JOBS UNLIMITED” printed on it? I could clap my hands and sing ‘Go workman, go, go, go….’”
“Ah…well…not the ideal Gandhi had in mind,” I said.
“How about I want my daughter’s marriage to change into a union you could call a union? I want her husband to change into a loyal family man. Maybe I can be that change. Maybe I could walk in the door at dinnertime and read the kids to bed and stay all night. Change enough?” She takes an angry bite of her pastry and inhales her coffee with a snort,
“Connie,” I said, sensing a tone of rising desperation, “you do your part by staying out of the middle of it, and being supportive.”
“That’s no choice, Wes,” she said. “That’s just me. What change do I ever see I want to see? I bend over backwards.”
I thought about that: “ I guess the man - Gandhi – was getting at a more global attitudinal change. Fill your heart with peace and stillness and it overflows into all you say and do. It soothes the hearts and minds of all you come in contact with.”
She pressed he lips together and her eyes were like bee-bees gone mad. “In other words, I’m so blissed out on my inner saint, I just don’t care my son’s a slacker and my daughter cries all night?”
“Ah…well…you find the strength to carry on and help others to do the same.”
Connie gave me the peace sign and a goofy grin.
“Westerly, Westerly, Westerly…” (shaking her head)… “What am I going to do with you? What are you sipping on there, girl?”
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Permalink Reply by Bmichael on
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Yeah…well that was pretty good, Westerly.
I’ve been having a hard time with this, though. These are kinda difficult concepts – I mean like it’s hard to insert a good sucker punch in a story about virtue and integrity.
Makes me think that Carol T might be one of those really tough teachers, ya know?
Do me a favor, will ya – ask her if like maybe we could do something different…like…umm…uh…Oh…I dunno …how ‘bout something like…uh…sand… yeah!...sand…and like we could list all the cool things you can do with it…and recipes…
Go on, ask her- she likes you best.
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A strange, cackling laugh came from somewhere on the darkened stage, hushing the crowd. In a moment, another – this time from the other side.
Among a few giggles , heavy footsteps stomped back and forth in the darkness until suddenly a loud crash of metal and breaking glass created a new silence.
“Crap!” growled a raspy voice.
From directly overhead, a pin spot revealed a shadowy figure leaning against a gnarled cane in a faded yellow pool of light.
Long, greasy hair fell across a craggy, whiskered face as he balanced himself precariously, his shaking hands capped tightly on the cane for support.
“Aquaaaaaalung my friend” he hummed softly staring straight ahead.
Something bulging in the pocket of the faded black t-shirt pulled it tight against the right side of his neck and bared the left side as it stretched toward his shoulder exposing a tattered remnant of an ancient tattoo.
Another pocket bulge, this time on the left of the shapeless gray work pants - the kind uniform salesmen sold…and car mechanics and warehouse workers wore… with a large tear at the corner, sparse white threads frayed across a patch of pale skin.
“Don’t start away uneasy…” he hummed.
“THE WORLD” he blurted, “ ISN’T FAIR. SOMETIMES, TO GET WHERE YOU WANT, YOU HAVE TO SACRIFICE SOME INTEGRITY.”
He waited expectantly for some reaction and when it didn’t come, he repeated it, this time much louder…
“I said… THE WORLD ISN’T…”
His eyes flashed. “Whattya… stoopid?”
(Sighing) “ Ya probly right. I don’t get it either – not really.
“My name is Mister Whitaker. That’s right. Mister. Thanks mom. Thanks dad. Thanks for adding on to all of the challenges of this life by giving me a moronic moniker. Thanks for making me spell it out over …lessee …easily one hundred thousand times by now, for sure. Every form, application, bail bond, and puffy faced …umm … never mind…the obligatory clarification followed by suspicious looks and smart-ass smirks.
No one ever used it, though. Not even my folks. Everybody just called me Whitaker. Besides, who would call an eight year old, “Mister”? “
Whitaker paused.
“But the part I really don’t get is two words – fair, integrity, and sacrifice.
Mostly integrity.
Sounds like a trick.”
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This is SO good, my friend...atmospheric, funny, provoking...and just the right amount of cynicism: perfect.
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