Hose on Hold

    A notice arrived in the mail. Everyone in town received one. It stated that watering grass was prohibited between 9:00 AM and 5:00 PM.
    The timing was awful. I had just planted grass seed on a bare spot. The seed required water. Lots of it.
    Would it be okay to bend the rule for a few square feet? If someone noticed me with the hose, he’d be unlikely to admonish me or report me.
    Something else would happen. That person’s opinion of me would diminish.
    I obeyed the regulation. The seed went thirsty.
    A good reputation is more important than a lush carpet of grass.

The Veteran Next Door

Marine honor guard removes flag from Jean's casket.

    Jean was his first name. Not Gene. Not Eugene.
    As a boy, he probably got razzed for having a name with a feminine connotation. If so, the razzing toughened him up for World War II. He enlisted in the U.S. Marines.
    Gene fought at the Battle of Iwo Jima. His drove a bulldozer back and forth from the beach to the front lines. The dozer played a crucial role. It carried ammunition. When I last spoke to Jean, he mentioned the pings of Japanese bullets striking the blade.
    He was present at the Battle of Okinawa, another bloody affair.
    He fought on an island called Tinian. There, he took out a Japanese machine gun nest. He paid a price. When he dived into the nest, a Japanese soldier raised his bayonet. Jean fell upon it. The bayonet sliced into him.
    Near the end of that war, Jean fought in China. The Japanese Army captured him. Later they released him in an unorthodox fashion. They stripped him down to his underwear and dropped him off alone in a desert.
     Jean lived across the street from me. Over the years, he had been a long time friend of my parents. On many occasions, he had lent them assistance with odd jobs around the house.
    Two weeks ago, I attend Jean’s funeral. Before driving to the service, I opened a cabinet, removed a bowl, and poured oatmeal into it.
    Jean built that cabinet.

Later, a man views a picture of Jean in his Marine uniform.

Pranksters

    Toilet paper has another use.
    Pranksters in my neighborhood tossed rolls of toilet paper into several trees. The rolls unraveled, creating ribbons of white. It happened at night.
    The pranksters, I think, were celebrating high school graduation. They targeted trees on the properties of friends.
    Was the prank innocent fun? Rain will eventually wash away the rolls of paper.
    Or was the prank inconsiderate to property owners? A week has passed and the trees still look trashy.
    I suspect that property owners were displeased with the prank. But they’ll keep their irritation under wraps. Nobody wants a reputation as a grump.

Aspirations

    Before I die I want to….
    This question appeared on a chair inside the municipal building in my town.
    The answers scrawled on the chair were diverse and sometimes quirky. For example, one person wanted to save a polar bear. 
    Another person wanted to raft through the Grand Canyon. That answer caught my eye. Years ago I did just that.
    Some answers were serious. A person wanted to have a child. Another person wanted to speak more than one language.
    I’m 58 years old. At this age, I think more often about my mortality. What matters the most isn’t doing cool stuff.
    If I were to write on that chair, I’d say, 'Before I die I want to do stuff pleasing to God.'
    Because everything I do—or fail to do—will factor in when my soul is judged.

Not Acting on Principle

    Curiosity lured me off a road. I drove to a grain elevator in South Dakota. It was gigantic. Railroad cars were parked nearby.
    For me, grain elevators were a novelty. They’re not seen where I live in New England. I asked permission to look around. A man took me on a tour. I snapped a photo (seen above) from the flatbed of his pickup truck.
    He taught me a lesson in economics. In the Midwest, many farmers strive to fill at least one hundred train cars with grain. If they can’t meet that threshold, a train company will charge a higher price to ship the grain.
    A single farm can’t accomplish that goal. Farmers join into cooperatives. They combine their harvests in order to fill those one hundred cars.
    Corporate agriculture easily meets this requirement. Those businesses own more than one farm. On their properties, farmers sometime work as contracted employees.
    Some small farms don’t make the cut. Their co-ops don’t produce enough grain for the railroad discount. They pay more for shipping.
    I support small farms. Well, I support them in words. During a recent trip to the market, my family purchased the cheapest foods. I did not buy the higher priced foods sold by small local farmers.
    Asserting a principle is easier than acting on it.

Opposite Directions

Three weeks ago, I drove by a property with an offbeat display.

    I can’t go in two directions.
    One direction is the photography of presidential campaigns. I’ve covered the last two in depth.
    The other direction is caring for my aging parents. Their health is poor.
    A new presidential campaign is unfolding. I should be traveling to the early primary states; that’s where the candidates are stumping. Instead I’m staying put. My parents are the priority.
    Making the decision wasn’t hard. Foresight played a role. Years from now, after my parents have moved on, I’ll have no regrets.

Principle Verses Principle

        The price was exorbitant. Sixteen dollars for an air filter. It would replace the old filter on my mower.
    I brought the item to a cashier and hesitated. I told her the price was high. I stated that last year, I purchased a filter at a cheaper price. She double checked the cost. It was still sixteen dollars.
    As a matter of principle, I won’t purchase things with outrageous prices.
    As another matter of principle, I shop at small hardware stores. Better to support a local business than those mega chain stores. I’m willing to pay a tad more in price.
    In this situation, two matters of principle were competing. I wanted to support the local store but didn’t want to pay an unconscionable price.
    I told the clerk to void the sale. Hopping into my car, I drove a mega chain store—Home Depot. This action represented a breach of principle. 
    The filter was in stock. Eight dollars! Fifty percent less. I purchased it without hesitation.
    That first hardware store tried to hose me. They lost more than a sale. They lost a customer.