Responsibility Comes in All Ages

Yesterday, my beloved eldest cat, Sadie, died.  I found her near my porch, her back legs paralyzed and a deformity to her hip.  It was apparent she had been hit by a car.  She was in pain and there was nothing I could do to help her.  I had no way to take her to the vet, much less the money, to have her mercifully put to sleep.  She lived another hour and a half before finally succumbing to her injuries.

What was also apparent was that somebody had to have moved her closer to my porch, but didn’t bother to knock and say “I hit your cat – I’m sorry.”  I never heard her cry out because she couldn’t take a deep breath (broken ribs, possible collapsed lung), she had a soft meow to begin with, and my hearing’s not what it used to be.  She could have been there only a few minutes or she could have been there a few hours before I found her. 

I’m pretty sure I know who hit her, but I doubt he’ll ever come forward and admit it.  In some respects, this person is like the grade school kids who, for the first time, invaded my yard and started whacking at plants with sticks yesterday.  They ran away when noticed to avoid being caught, to avoid being discovered instead of owning up to the damage and apologizing.  I don’t know if the story about George Washington cutting down the cherry tree and then confessing to it is true or not, but I would take such an honest person as my neighbor or neighbor kid anytime.

My loving responsibility to Sadie was to be with her as she passed and I was.  She had me beside her, with comforting words and scritches all the while as she died.  My final loving and responsible act was to bury her and say goodbye.  My final act with regard to Sadie’s death will be to forgive the person who hit her.  That will happen, just not right away.  Guess I’m a bit flawed, too.

It is in our actions of honesty, responsibility, compassion, forgiveness and positive action that our true nature as a human being comes through.  I don’t expect my weed-whackers of yesterday to understand that yet, for they are still in the process of learning such lessons.  But, I kind of expect adults to at least try to get it right, setting an example for the next generation.

Deconstructed Stone Soup

From the "Stone Soup" storybook
of my younger days

A few days ago, I found myself waiting for someone in a car in a parking lot that looked out over the main road just before it ended at an intersection of highway and other street beginnings – very metaphorical.   The area’s busy in both vehicle and foot traffic and it was interesting and actually quite relaxing to watch.  But, after waiting for almost an hour, I found my relaxed mind started to wander.  First, it was to where people were going and what they were doing once they got there.  Then, I started getting existential, thinking about my life and where I was heading, what my place was in things, how I perceived my role in making things happen, etc.

For some reason, my mind started to look at it from the perspective of making stone soup.  For those unfamiliar with this old folk story, it’s where a person or persons come into town with only a cooking pot.  They’re hungry, but the townspeople, for one reason or another, are unwilling to share what they have with the stranger(s).  The strangers go to a stream, fill the cooking pot with water and drop some stones in to cook.  One by one, the villagers ask what they’re doing and the strangers reply that they’re making stone soup, which is delicious in its own right, although items added would only enhance the flavor.  The villagers find themselves willing to share a little of what they have and the stone soup becomes a wonderful meal for all to enjoy, a recipe of cooperation.

So, here’s the question, not just for me, but for anyone in any given situation.  Breaking  down, or deconstructing, the making of stone soup, what is the role you play?  Are you:

• The one with the vision, hungry for more, who can see how, with a little guile, cooperation, and input from others, something they want can be accomplished?
• The one who understands the visionary’s idea and has the knowledge of what’s required and the talent to start to bring it together?
• The ones who bring a little or a lot of what’s required to make the soup great?
• The one who stirs the pot and keeps the fire going?
• The one who documents what went into the soup, in case they ever want to do it again?
• The one who may or may not choose to eat, but knows somebody has to clean up after these people?
• The one who takes one taste, decides they can do better, and goes off, successfully or not, to make their own version?

For me, I’ve successfully played all but the first and last of these roles during my lifetime, playing the second and third roles most of the time.  Am I happy with that?  For the most part.  I like to think that I could play the one with the vision, but I find I’m better at bringing someone else’s dreams to life than my own.  There’s nothing wrong with that role, either.  The visionary may have the best idea in the world, but not be able to see what’s required to get things moving and keep them going, as well as any contingency plans in case the path from Point A to Point B of their plan needs to make a detour.  There will always be a place for those who help move dreams along.

Why does this come up on Independence Day, you ask?  Take the above roles and apply them to our forefathers, who had the vision of an independent country in mind and brought it into existence.  Not an easy task, but they managed, and that vision continues and allows the freedom of vision to continue to flourish.  There’s a role to play in every idea, and cooperation between all the roles will make it happen.

So, go forth and celebrate the Fourth of July, a symbol of one whopping pot of excellent stone soup if ever there was one.