I found myself wondering today, probably because wondering is what I really do best, when did we begin to sell our souls for money: just plain money?
Seriously, think of all the old faery tales, fables, myths and even, I don't know, proverbs or whatever. Did anyone sell their soul for gold, silver or money? No, they sold their souls for love of one who didn't want them, a child, or even beauty and
What happened to the American dream? Do you even remember it? I'm old enough. It was a chicken in every pot, a car in every driveway and a home. Did you notice a bank account, credit rating and more money than you spend is not on that list?
You wanted those things for your family, so you could come home and relax and create, and so you could retire and enjoy the end of your life with your family and friends.
Now you want more and more toys, so you can spend time on the internet or with the cable TV, and retire with an Ipad clutched firmly in your hand even though, take it from me, you won't be able to see it without strong glasses and will need a pencil to hit the buttons.
Perhaps when you vote today you should consider whether family or 5 mansions is important in the long run, because those are the measures of the two candidates and those are the choices of dreams you have. As for me, I'll take the people, some tofu, my van and my house because my cats like living indoors and I'll remember something that has been stuck in my mind for three days.
I remember the smell of burning leaves, the crisp nip in the air and the look on my uncle's face when he came in from a hard day of building septic tanks. He was a tall, gaunt man brought to an early old age from hard work and alcohol, with almost black hair and dark eyes. My aunt was a little round thing with light red hair and sparkling blue eyes. I remember the look on his face when she presented him with an apple pie. No, not an apple computer, phone or other device or something that costs a few hundred dollars; she presented him with a simple, homemade apple pie with every crisscrossed piece of dough perfectly cut and laid and browned to perfection with its cinnamon and clove spices tickling the nose. I will always remember that look of pure joy, pride and love on his face. Those apples came from my other uncle's trees. He had dropped a bushel off early in the day because giving to family and friends without expecting payment was just what you did at harvest time. The pan was old and dented from use. She borrowed the sugar from a neighbor who wasn't keeping a running tab, she had some, my aunt needed it, she gave it and bought the flour in 50 pound sacks that required sifting for anything other than heavy bread. Flour was one of the few things you had to buy. But that look....you don't buy that with money. What do you want?
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