Holiday giving

Over on JoeMyGod there is a good piece on homeless gay youth. For those in a charitable frame of mind there is a link to a homeless shelter for gay youth, the Ali Forney Center. If you are thinking about a way to spread around some of your Xmas swag this is a good cause.

Check out Joe's post.

I'll be homo for Xmas

Okay kids, let's try another open thread. I will spend Xmas day at a friends house eating myself into a coma. What are your Xmas plans?

The morning news

I was clutching my coffee mug this morning, listening to NPR, when I heard a report on a couple of Baptist ministers that have gotten themselves in trouble for doing naughty things with little girls. At this point the sexual misconduct of the clergy is sort of a yawn. The biggest recent splash was everyones favorite born-again homo, Ted Haggard.

It has got me thinking though. Mostly about how things are perceived in this country. Prior to the new scandals about protestant ministers getting up to hijinx with members of their congregations, I can't help but feel that the country had come to consider this type of behavior as the sole province of Catholics! I actually, during the height of the shitstorm that surrounded the Boston diocese, had friends inform me that this type of thing would never happen in other sects because the pastors were answerable directly to their congregations and not to some centralized bureaucracy. In vain did I try and tell them stories that I had heard from friends in my youth about what the local pastor was doing with the boy scout troop.

I have to admit to a certain amount of smug self satisfaction. As a former Catholic, I am not very sympathetic to the mother church, but I have noticed here in Boston a very strong anti-catholic sentiment, and I hear some pretty strange ideas about what it is that Catholics actually believe, and how they practice their faith. Admittedly, a lot of Catholics give people some pretty strange ideas themselves. I guess what I am pointing out is that it is simply by virtue of the otherness of Catholics that leave them open to suspicion. Somehow, like Jews and Islam, you really can't trust those people.

Well, now everyone gets to join in the fun. Choose your perversion. You can be a televangelist, who has a thing for call boys and meth, or a small town pastor, who likes 8 year old girls and you too can wind up in the news. Frankly, I find this new story about these dirty old men in the south as news worthy as "The Hag" and his misbehavior. However since these guys had not had the forethought to bilk a larger audience out of millions of dollars for their ministry, all the while getting their butts plugged by muscle boys, I am not sure how much attention this is going to get. Besides it was just a bunch of little girls! What's to get excited about?

You bug me baby

I often try to explain to people about my mother’s inability to let anything go, and how that even though her children are all grown and by and large into middle age, she is incapable of treating any of them as though they are any older than14. So I usually fall back on this story to demonstrate my point.

This story starts back in 1967. My older brother was in the full flush of a newly minted drivers license and pride of ownership in his first car. The car in question was a rather scabrous, gold, 1957 VW, but for John no more beautiful car could have existed.

It was one of those beautiful summer days that only exist in the recollection of childhood and my brother was performing one of his least favorite duties. Watching my brother and me. Aiding and abetting him in this was his best friend Pat, who was also drunk on ownership and driving privileges. They were having one of those teenage bragging contest that runs on excessive testosterone and the topic of course was who was the better driver. The discussion managed to move from an ad hoc pop quiz from the Vermont State Drivers Manual, to their innermost familiarity with their respective vehicles. While Pat was explaining the exquisite oneness he had achieved with his Rambler Ambassador, John was countering with the intuitive, nay spiritual understanding of every rattle, creak and flatulent backfire emanating from his Bug. This heady braggadocio only ended with my brother making the fateful statement, “Oh yeah, well I know my car so well that I could drive it blindfolded!” Pat seized this flung gauntlet, and at an age where word is close to action, John, Pat, my brother Mike and I as well as 3 of Pat’s brothers were packed into the Volkswagon and almost before we knew it were maneuvering our way out to the back field.

The property that my parents bought in 1960 was an acre of land, complete with a house, carriage barn, well house, wood shed and privy. All of the structures took up about 1/3 of the property and the rest was a field at the back of the property. Running along one side of the property was a thick patch of raspberries and milkweed and on the other side a hedgerow of trees at the center of which was an enormous and ancient oak. The field itself had been innocent of anything other than tall grass and wildflowers until John bought his car, and then for a short while, until John got his license, it had been the home and driving track for the VW. There was by then a well worn, roughly oval track out in the field that bore witness to John’s experiments in mastering the art of driving so it was on that familiar route that the Bug bounced past the barn and the outhouse and the old man’s garden to its appointment with fate.

Once the car was positioned at the head of the field, John was blindfolded and after a certain amount of argument over whether he could actually see or not, John put the car in gear and we, acting as navigators, all began to shout instructions as to whether he should be turning left or right or going straight. John actually made it about ¾ of the way around the field before the shouted directions and the distinction between left and right got blurred and the VW sailed slowly and with as much majesty as an ancient VW beetle could manage, into the oak tree amidst a frantic chorus of stop, stop. Now admittedly we were only doing between 5 and 10 mph, but it made an impressive crunching noise and jolted us all in good shape. We piled out in a wild state of excitement to survey the damage, John certain that he had totaled the car. Actually, it came out of it’s confrontation with the tree in pretty good shape, except that the front bumper was bent in the middle and almost touching the body of the car. For those unfamiliar with the old style bug, the bumpers were set out away from the body of the car by a good few inches. The bumper which was ordinarily one smooth curve, now described 2 arcs joined in the middle like a child’s drawing of a bird in flight. All we could think of was what would happen when our parents got home, in particular the manner in which indiscriminate justice would be dealt out by the old man. Action was called for and if the Pelletier boys were anything, it was resourceful.

Now, among the many hats my father had worn in the work world before he finally found the rut he was to occupy for so many years working in facilities at the local college, he had worked as a steeplejack. Luckily for us, my father is one of those men who are incapable of throwing anything away.
Therefore, neatly coiled in the carriage barn was the steeplejack tackle my dad had used while working at a job that required climbing telephone poles, trees and from what I can gather anything else that was vertical. What was best about this was the rope that he had used, which was very, very long and about 3 inches in diameter. We went up to the barn and dragged the rope back down to the scene of the crime and proceeded to wrap one end around the tree, which had a diameter, that if it had been cut down, you probably could have parked the car on. The other end was tied around the center of the bumper. Very slowly, and with lots of yelling and wild hand signals, John began backing the car up. After a lot of “just a little more, no, no, NO, STOP, the bumper was finally bent back into shape, the only evidence left, a small dimple about the size of a dime in the center. It was in a much more sober frame of mind John drove the car back up to the front yard and parking the car in front of the house. We then waited for my parents to come home. I don’t remember John even having to threaten us with painful retribution. I think we all realized that if the old man ever found out about this it would not have turned out pretty for anyone involved. The parents eventually made it home and as far as we could tell my father, who for a man who rarely drew a sober breath was incredibly observant, never noticed it. And that was about it. It was a rare moment of solidarity between my older brother and I, who generally were always on the look out for any excuse to rat one another out. If for no other reason than this unspoken truce this incident would have stood out in my memory.

Now, flash forward 30 years. I had gone up for one of my rare visits to my parents and as it turned out both of my brothers visited that day as well. We sat in the living room and as the conversation turned, we boys began remembering all the things we had done that we had somehow never got caught at. Among the stories were tales of bad teenage behavior with cars and John remembered about the VW. Between the three of us we started piecing the story together and my father who has grown a lot more easy going, was laughing like anything about it. My mother on the other hand just started to purse her lips. Mom is one of those people that the angrier they get the smaller their mouth gets. By the time we had about done with our story, Mom’s mouth had entirely disappeared and she had gone bright red.

“You God damned kids!” she finally yelled, and proceeded to harangue us with what would have happened if she had only found out at the time. This only got us laughing harder, which only seemed to make the old lady angrier, and go into greater detail about how she would have made our father beat the 3 of us to death, which only made us laugh harder making her angrier. It was as though we had done this 30 minutes, not 30 years before. If she could have she would have sent her 3, now middle aged sons, to their rooms. This is my mother all over. She has nursed every offence against her to her bosom like a sick kitten. I think that she was most vexed because she had been deprived of 30 years of dragging this crime against parental authority out to beat us with whenever the mood moved her. As you can gather, our mother is difficult, and over the years we all have finally gotten to the point of just rolling our eyes and saying “She means well.” Though that will be a terrible thing to have on her headstone. I think for our part, this childhood memory has become even funnier, because there is the event itself, which is a sterling example of youthful stupidity, then the long overdue aftermath that gives us yet one more example to exhibit when trying to explain our mother to others. It’s also a good prod if we are feeling mischievous, and want to get the old girl going! Now if we could just remember some of the other things we got up to…..

Great line

Overheard the other day:

Oh my God, HIM! He's like a combination of Nora Desmond and Al Pacino.

Field trip

I went on a field trip this evening. I took a couple of grad students and our undergrad office assistant for a walk up the Commonwealth Ave. mall to look at the lights. Unfortunately, my camera is not very fast so most of the photos came out blurry. I will have to get out my tripod and go out on my own. I wanted to show the fabulously tacky display on one of the townhouses. I am sure it sends the Back Bay Association absolutely crazy and they put it up every year! I don't know who these people are but I love them. I promise I'll drag out the tripod and get some good shots.

The nicest thing I've heard all week

I was in bed with a humpy nice looking young man this weekend.

How old did you say you were?

51.

God, I hope my ass looks that good when I'm 51.

Sometimes life is kind.

(It was pointed out to me that I forgot to mention I was wearing chaps at the time, oh and boots and a cockring.... that's all.)

QOTY

There is a fun poll going for the "Queer of the Year" on JoeMyGod's blog. People are suggesting candidates for an award for the person that they feel has helped move forward the gay movement in the past year. Currently I am voting for the country of Canada, who have dismissed conservative PM Stephan Harper's call for a referendum on gay marriage in Canada. It's nice to know at least in Canada they don't think it's a good idea to take peoples human rights away from them, once you've signed them into law. I can only hope that Massachusetts will follow this sensible example

Bells are ringing

Ah, listening to the news in the morning. It's always good for a laugh. Life just gets better and better. Now aside from being protected from our self destructive impulses to sit down and eat a plate of margarine and Crisco in a restaurant somewhere, we can talk ourselves into a state of imbecility without worry. After all of the studies that have shown that talking on cell phones will cause our brains to leak out our ears, because of the low level radiation they emit, surprise, surprise, there is a new study showing that, no, in fact you can gabble inanely as long as you want with no side effects on your new RAZR or whatever hip communication device you choose. What are all of those folks that have pissed away money on bluetooth devices, so that they could have the sound quality of 2 dixie cups and a string going to say? Probably not much, since there is the whole, "I am so much cooler than you are, because I have my wireless earpiece that glows blue." factor. I have become much more in favor of handsfree add ons as of late, even if it does mean that you walk down the street looking like you are talking to yourself like a crazy person, but I'll stick with the wired earbud until they finally get the bugs out of the wireless sets, thanks all the same.

I guess the point of this whole rant is that, in spite of being warned, cajoled and frightened with specious theories loosely based on science, the fact is that all of the experts are self styled and really are only spouting theories on dangers that have all of the substance of swamp gas. Somehow, suggesting that people exercise common sense just doesn't have that same thrill of suggesting whether you are talking on your cell phone or eating a donut that you might as well be bungie jumping into a pit of vipers with your pockets full of bricks. But don't worry kids, by the time another week roles around there will be some new percieved danger out there that will be adding a soupcon of danger to what would ordinarily be an everyday activity. God only knows what chemicals that keyboard your typing at as you cruise the web is leaching out into your system.

Oh Lardy, lardy

The food nazi's are winning. New York has just enacted a ban on transfats! What is worse, it may be coming to dear old Boston. It would seem that Boston, not to be out politically corrected is now considering similar legislation. It really is time to move out of this benighted country. Don't get me wrong. I am all about eating in a responsible and healthy way. I have managed to diet and exercise myself into pants that are 3 inches smaller around the waist and I got myself off of cholesterol medication. I, however did not require the assistance of the state to do it. I simply convinced myself that there was a difference between being hungry and being bored. However self discipline and personal responsibility are sooo 20th century. So start pounding back those Dunkin' Donuts honey, they may not be around much longer. The only hope is that all of this frankenscience that gets spouted, like oatbran, green tea, ginko and god only remembers the last food fad, will turn out to be yet more poorly thought out research. After all, not that long ago chocolate was so, so bad for you. Now, lo and behold it is just chock full of antioxidents. So hang tough America. In a few years they will discover that donuts and cheese doodles are the key to longer life.

Pearl Harbor Day

It is Worlds AIDS Day. I had wanted to write a piece about my best friend Larry. It won't come. I cannot seem to write anything that in my mind does justice to him. I can tell you that he was born on May 25, 1945 and died December 7, 1984. That in those early days of the epidemic, when hysteria ran high and people were abandoned by friends and family, Larry's friends and family rallied around, arranged care rota's and there was always someone with him and caring for him. Those are only facts, what I can't seem to write about is that he was the best friend that I ever had. How he made me feel loved and valued in a way I never felt before I met him, and never have again since he died.

I can tell you that there is a six and a half foot tall whole in my life that will never be filled and will never really heal over. I think about Larry every day, and miss him. Occasionally I will still cry when I think about the fact that I will never see him again, and about all the things we never got to do over the past 22 years and all the things that we will not be able to do together in the future. Life goes on for the living, and I know Larry would not want me to spend my life grieving it away because of his absence and I don't. But on this day it will be hard not to feel sadness and longing bite down a little harder. I'm just happy that I was wiser than I knew at the time, and always let Larry know how much I loved him. I still do.

Age appropriate

Today is my first open thread. I will be asking the question, is it all right for me to be seen in public dressed like this? I was inspired by a conversation I had yesterday with a visiting faculty member. We were talking about people of a certain age wearing clothes that were designed for people younger than themselves. So, should I be wandering around like this, or should I be keeping myself decently covered?

What a waste

Waste has been in the news for the past few days. If it hasn't made the headlines, it has at least been on NPR. I heard a report first on food waste, appropriately enough, on the day after Thanksgiving. It would seem the average American throws out 600 lbs. of food a year. They tracked people who did not consider themselves to be wasteful. Among the top items to be thrown out were fresh fruit and vegetables. It seems that these are people who like to think they eat healthy, so they buy fresh fruit and vegetables, because that is what healthy people eat and then wait for them to go bad and throw them out. Part of the problem it seems is overbuying. The other is the days on which people shop. It seems that I, who consider myself to be fairly thrifty, shop on the best days. They advised people to do their shopping late in the week. The other item was the portions that were prepared. Plan your meals and only prepare what you are going to eat. That doesn't work so much for me, since the people they were working with have an aversion to leftovers. I, if I am cooking more food than I will eat in one sitting, do it on purpose so that I will have something that doesn't require preparation the next day. Roast chicken and meatloaf, just to site a couple of examples of how I try to get out of cooking meals every day, especially on work days. I am in a minority, but I kind of like leftovers. If I am going to cook, why not make something I would be willing to eat 2 days in a row.

The other item was consumer electronics. We are being overburdened with electronics that are designed to wear out, something the manufacturers admit, so that we will go out and buy the replacement. The real problem with the electronics is disposal. Once you make these things, you have to find some responsible way to dispose of something that is chock full of hazardous materials. Some environmental groups are trying to get the designers and manufacturers to plan their products so that the components can be recycled. The reasoning is that companies would save money on the production of these ephemeral consumer goods and would at the same time be a lot friendlier for the planet. Needless to say, these businesses are very resistant to the idea.

If you think about it we throw things away constantly. I know that my office is far from paperless, though most of my work is done on a computer. We receive packages all day long, and the boxes that they arrive in have to be disposed of. Then most of the products in the box are in boxes, quite often with blisterpack on the actual item in the box. Germany has very strict packaging laws, and vendors there would never get away with the excessive and difficult to dispose of packaging solutions that we embrace in this country.

It seems like a pretty simple equation. Stop buying so much, and stop buying things you don't need, stop buying products with the life expectancy of a mayfly. It seems simple, but after a lifetime of exposure to my fellow creatures and several years in retail, common sense never prevails and so we are going to continue to waste things until there is nothing left to waste. The only things left on the planet will be waste. Humanity had better hope the space program moves ahead with plans to start settlements on the moon and Mars, cause we're gonna' run out of room down here.

Funny hats

I have learned something interesting. If you want some attention, wear a silly hat. Among the activities I pursued during my week off from work, I updated my Manhunt page. I have had an account with Manhunt for over a year now, and to be frank, it hasn't been all that successful. I was innocent of some conventions, so my first mistake was to list my actual age. I have learned subsequently that you automatically add 5 years to anyones profile. So in Manhunt years I am 56 years old, which is rushing things a bit. While I can see 60 looming on the horizon, it's not quite that close. I have also learned that home naked shots are not as easy to take, even with a camera with a timer, as one might think. All I can say is that it's a good thing no one can see into my apartment easily, when I am taking new photos for the add. Then there is the profile itself. Some people, most of them delusional I might add, manage to toot their own horn. The list of people and things they are not interested in is staggering. I have also had to learn a whole new shorthand of 3 letter acronyms, a.k.a. TLA's. I never knew that so many men are VGL (very good looking) and it would seem that all of the men in Boston are hung like horses. I had also been hitherto unaware at the number of men in Boston that had access to professional photographers. (Either that or scanners and a staggering collection of pornography) I have had to struggle along with my digital camera and all of my physical faults. All in all, after a few months I have come to view the whole thing more as a source of entertainment, rather than an alternative to the bars for, if not dates at least some cheap sex. I did meet my FB Flip through the site so it wasn't a complete waste, but it is not the bottomless well of sexual gratification that it has been touted to be.

Having developed a sense of humor about the whole thing, I decided on Black Friday to do a holiday posting, so I put on my Santa hat and a cock ring and posted a picture of myself. I have, it would seem discovered the better mousetrap. I have had more men hitting on my site than even I know what to do with! Now, honesty compels me to admit that most of the hitters are not exactly prize winners. I think it must be the jolly fat man thing, because the vast majority of the hits have been from, well, ample guys. But that seems to be my fate usually anyway. I am a magnet for the overweight. I am not just talking about bears here either. One of these boys profile stated 5'8", 230 lbs. Yikes! There have also been some guys that have been pretty nice looking and at least in chat, don't seem to be suffering from any bizarre psychosis, other than being attracted to men in Santa hats.

For me there are a number of reasons for trying dating sites. I really don't enjoy going to the clubs anymore. Even on nights when I contemplate the virtues of going out, I usually fall asleep before I make it out the door. On the increasingly rare occasions that I do manage to go out, I never spend that much time at the club before I get bored and leave, after having had a couple of very expensive bottles of water. So online dating is the answer. Sort of. I also get bored with that and will go weeks, and during good weather, months without signing onto the site. Usually because, like the bars, I don't enjoy all that much success and if the weather is nice and the days are long, I'd rather spend my time out in my garden.

Which brings us back to silly hats. Have I found the secret to success? Is what has been missing from my life all this time been silly hats? Maybe a whole holiday theme motif for the future. Little wings and a bow and arrow perhaps for Valentine's Day? I'm not sure, but I have New Years and Valentines Day coming up to do further research on my theory. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to write back to a nice young man who wants to sit in Santa's lap.

later that afternoon

Well, I can say that Daniel Craig is a great Bond. I cannot say that Casino Royale is a great Bond movie. I spent far to much time squirming in my seat wondering if they were just going to get on with it. Don't get me wrong, it was well cast and acted. It was just long. Too long. Still if over the holidays you find yourself with some downtime you could do worse. Just go to the cheap matinee.

On the other hand, I have been playing Robbie Williams album "Rudebox" like a 14 year old. It is rude, funny and you can dance to it. Perfect music for the gym and a nice antidote to the bland offerings on commercial radio.

So, I can honestly say I am starting to wind down. I could get used to this taking time off idea. Think I'll listen to Bongo Bong again, just for the hell of it. Hey, I'm on vacation.

Time off

I am on day 2 (officially, weekends don't count) of some much needed vacation time. So far, so good. Though I do have to admit it is a bit of a struggle to not try and schedule everything. I have managed to have dinner with the niece and niece v.2, who was up from Georgia for a visit. I got to give my FB Flip a rather vigorous send off before his sojourn out to the midwest for family Thanksgiving. I am seriously sore from working out at the gym as well (hyuck, hyuck) having the luxury of taking as much time as I want to exercise.

Right on time I got a shipment from Amazon. Neil Gaiman's "Fragile Things", Barbara Tuchman's "The Zimmerman Telegram", which I had read years ago and loaned out, and never got back and promptly went out of print. It has been reissued and is an exciting read. Tuchman takes the final event that brought the U.S. into WWI and makes it read like a spy thriller. It is exciting and Mrs. Tuchman's asides about major historical figures are very funny. I also got "The Gentle Art of Making Enemies" by James Abbot McNeil Whistler. Another loaner that never came home to Poppa. Whistler was a talented essayist as well as painter and I can suggest to anyone who has every wanted to air an opinion to read this book to get an idea of how to do it with style.

I'm headed off to see the new Bond film and then lunch with a my pal Clint. Ah the joy of not having to do anything.

Oh, BTW if you switch over to Blogger Beta, you have to go into settings to allow all comments, it automatically defaults to "members only". WTF is that about? More later.

Home on the range

Okay, this is too good, even if it is at my expense. Our student worker was late and I said something to the effect that as long as she blamed her tardiness on George Bush, I would accept it. This led to me ranting about everything that I find unfair being George Bush's fault. "Yeah, I said, and when I was young, chocolate wasn't fattening, that's George Bush's fault too. Buttermonkey looked up.

"When you were young honey, nothing was fattening. You were wandering the plains."

I'll make a queen outa' that boy yet!

I like Mike

As most of you, who haven't been living under a rock know, Mike Jones is the hooker who blew the grotesque Ted Haggard out the water with his revelations about Haggard the homophobe's meth fueled love fests with said call boy.

What you may not know is that the so called "gay community" or those claiming to represent us, have been offering their loving support by covering the pure guy in little round bruises by touching him with 10 foot poles.

However, one of my favorite bloggers Joe.My.God has set up a paypal account for Mike Jones. The guy is unemployed, probably unemployable for the near future and in legal trouble. I don't care if you agree or disagree with the choices Mr. Jones has made about how he made his living, but if the organizations that are suppose to be working to safeguard the rights of gay people are too tight assed to offer assistance to someone who was willing to put themselves on the line, and expose a hypocrite like Haggard, then I invite you to go to Joe's website and pitch in.

I realize approximately 3 people read this blog, so if you know anyone who you think would like to contribute, email them Joemygod's link.

Thanks,

Tony

I just can't get tired of saying it...

Donald Rumsfeld resigned....Donald Rumsfeld resigned, Donald Rumsfeld resigned, Donald Rumsfeld resigned, Donald Rumsfeld resigned, Donald Rumsfeld resigned, Donald Rumsfeld resigned, Donald Rumsfeld resigned, Donald Rumsfeld resigned, Donald Rumsfeld resigned, Donald Rumsfeld resigned, Donald Rumsfeld resigned, Donald Rumsfeld resigned,.... I just can't say it enough, Donald Rumsfeld resigned, Donald Rumsfeld resigned, Donald Rumsfeld resigned, Donald Rumsfeld resigned, Donald Rumsfeld resigned, Donald Rumsfeld resigned, Donald Rumsfeld resigned, Donald Rumsfeld resigned, Donald Rumsfeld resigned, Donald Rumsfeld resigned, Sorry, it still hasn't gotten old. My head is going to explode, okay! The only thing that might be even better is that Nancy "San Francisco Liberal" Pelosi will be the speaker of the house. Donald Rumsfeld resigned, Donald Rumsfeld resigned, Donald Rumsfeld resigned, Donald Rumsfeld resigned, Donald Rumsfeld resigned, Donald Rumsfeld resigned, Donald Rumsfeld resigned, Donald Rumsfeld resigned, don't mind me, this is just going to go on for the rest of the day.

It's nice to be wrong

I stopped at my usual morning coffee joint this morning to grab a cup of joe, before catching the train. There was a short line, and while I don't like waiting in line any more than anyone else does, it did do my heart some good to see that a Mom & Pop is able to keep up a clientele. In front of me were a couple of student types. They weren't being particularly obnoxious, actually they were seeming fairly human and good natured. They put in their order, ponied up their money and were waiting for order as the girl started flailing around with her purse at the counter. In her wild gyrations trying to balance cell phone, wallet and god knows what else, she managed to send the tip jar on top of the cash register flying, change sailed through the air, tinkling around the floor behind the cash register. They looked at each other in embarrassment and they both started to apologize.

Okay, so I am an old crank. Considering how people behave these days I should have been satisfied by the fact that they at least said sorry. All I could think of was that they should watch what they were doing. The man who works behind the counter is very nice and just shrugged it off, saying not to worry about it. He handed them their order and they went off to cream and sugar their coffees, the guy giving his girlfriend a good natured hard time, and continuing to apologize as they went.

I moved up to give my order, when the couple came jinking back up to the counter, dashed in behind it and began to pick up all the change and put it back in the tip cup. They scrambled around on the floor for a few minutes, while the proprietor was assuring them that "No, really it was fine." But bless their little hearts, they gathered things up, and the young man took the tip jar and but it back on the counter, saying "I think I'd better be the one to put it down." As they headed out, he told the patrons waiting in line that they had to help fill the jar back up, since he was sure some of the money got lost under counter.

So, I was wrong. I'm a big enough man to admit it. There really are some people left who are not entitled to screw up and then excuse themselves, or place the blame elsewhere. It was a small thing, but it was consideration, which no matter how small, is always a big thing. Maybe that is the way we can start to fix the mess we're all in, in this big and bad world. Taking care of the small things, and if we keep it up maybe, after we have got the hang of fixing the small things all the time the big things will start to look do-able.