Buying Sunshine

and one of those essentials is living, truly living. I had a job, a rather prestigious job, with a salary that allowed us to buy many delightfully unnecessary bits of baggage. However, I gave in return thirteen hours a day and then two weeks of every month in Seoul or Hsin-Chu. I sold, if not my soul, for I enjoyed the people and the work, at least my life. How much was my life worth? I can't get those years back, the days I might have spent with my family, the hours I should have been standing in a stream. Was it worth it for baubles? For, when we cleaned all the material accumulation of those years away, much of it went into a dumpster or a yard sale -- that was hours, days, weeks, of life belatedly shown to be tragically misspent. I might have been working less and living/loving more.

The title of this essay, "Buying Sunshine", is borrowed from a short story by an outdoor writer that I enjoyed but whose name is lost in, alas, that morass I call my memory; probably only to bubble to the surface of that swamp when least needed. In the story, which I will but inadequately paraphrase, there were two brothers; Ed, the elder, was hardworking, successful, and admired by the community. His wife wore the best clothes, had 2.5 children, as expected, and a full-time housekeeper.

The younger, Jim, was his antithesis; chronically under-employed for a person of his intellect, breeding, and education. Jim's pride was just that -- seven children dressed in second-hand clothes, chivvied and coddled, turn for turn, by a wife who loved her family and showed it by allowing them to range relatively free.

One day Ed saw his ne'er-do-well sibling sauntering down the street in the middle of a workday, fly rod in one hand, his other thrown over the shoulder of one of his well-tanned boys. This was too much for Ed, he stepped onto the sidewalk and accosted Jim. "Jim", he said,"you can ruin your own life by running off fishing when you know you could be getting some money in your pocket by hayin' for old man Johnson, but you shouldn't be teaching your son your habits."

Jim looked at his elder brother and replied with a smile on his lips, "I wanted to get a new fly rod. I could have worked for two weeks and might have enough, after the bills, to get one, too. But instead I'm buying sunshine for myself and my son here. It's cheaper, better, and will last forever. Ed, you'd do well to buy some for yourself, before it's too late."

We all grew up hearing the fable of "The Ants and the Grasshopper". Today I'm cheering for the grasshopper.

© 2006 Reed F. Curry