Sunday, September 11, 2011

Soup Story (Story)

Hearing the cooperation among neighbors following the recent hurricanes, this story came to mine. I wanted to re-post it, written originally in 2008.

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Soup Story

There was once a little village in a time not so long ago. Unlike the days of old when the villagers once worked the land as their ancestors, these villagers got into their cars and traveled a distance – sometimes a great distance to get to the jobs they worked. For you see, these jobs paid for the food on their table, paid for the clothes on their back and paid for the roof over their head. But in those days, taxes weren’t so high, jobs paid well, and there was even time for leisure where the village would hold picnics and parties and music concerts on the village green. Neighbors and friends had time to visit one another and even help one another. It was a close knit community. There was even money to spare, and the village would raise funds to donate to charities, such as the soup kitchens in the nearby cities. This went on for several years.

Then times changes, as they sometimes do. Businesses closed nearby and the villagers had to travel even further from home. Leisure time became less. Neighbors stopped seeing each other as much, but would still make time to attend the gatherings on the village green. Unfortunately, they didn’t have the time to visit each other nor help one another like before. Money was still good, but not as good as before. Donations were slimmer at the charities. This went on for some years.

Times changed again. Businesses were laying off, and taxes were rising. The villagers also changed a bit more inside. It had been some time since they knew their neighbors. There were fewer and fewer people they recognized at the village gatherings. Who were all these new people? Where did they come from? Are they after our jobs? If they take our jobs, how will I feed my family? Will we loose our home?

The the news spoke of terrible things that neighbor did against neighbor, and informed one and all that they should be alert against strangers. The attendance at the village green shrank and eventually the village no longer held these outings. Villagers would get home, stay on their own lot and lock their windows and doors, careful not to be noticed by any strangers in their midst.

Then taxes continued to rise, the price of gas skyrocketed and jobs were cut again. With money only trickling in and signs that there were even tougher times ahead, donations dried up. The nearby soup kitchens closed.

Now, during this time, on a bright autumn day, a minister to the poor and hungry in the nearby city decided to try the local villages to see if he could get any donations to reopen the soup kitchens. But try as he might, house by house, block by block, no one had anything to spare, not even a box of macaroni and cheese or a can of soup. Some would not even open the door because he was a stranger.

It didn’t take this minister long to see that not only had this village come upon hard economic times, but the community itself that once thrived in villages like this had also vanished. Taking the villagers into his heart, he decided to do something to help them before he went on his way to the next village.

Near the town green, he spied an old propane grill on one side of someone’s home. He knocked on the door again and said to the surly man who answered, “Excuse me, sir, I know you do not have any food to spare, but I just noticed your gas grill – the one rusting on the side of your house. Could I borrow it to heat up some food out there on the green? You see, we’re going to have an end of the season party, a nice one with food and games and music and laughter. We could use your grill.”

The surly man eyed the minister suspiciously. “Why? There’s no any gas for it.”

The minister merely shrugged, “I would appreciate it if you let me borrow it all the same. I will certainly return it when I’m done.”

The surly man gazed at the minister a long minute and ran his eyes over the expanse of the village green. A few lonely oak trees stood majestically, brightly colored leaves fluttering to the empty lawn beneath them. There was no one on the green or even outside. “Who’s the ‘we’ at this party? There’s no one out there.”

The minister smiled broadly, “Oh, the whole village is invited; you’re more than welcome to come too. It’ll be fun!”

The surly neighbor’s eyes narrowed and he thought a few moments. “What will you charge for those attending?”

“Charge?” asked the minister shocked. “Why nothing! This is merely a friendly gathering. Friends don’t charge friends when they gather together. But” added the minister, “if you feel like bringing anything out to share, it will be more than appreciated. However, it’s not a requirement.”

The surly man shook his head and the beginnings of a smile crept at the corners of his mouth. “I don’t know what you’re up to, you old coot. But sure, you can borrow my grill. But I can’t give you anything else…” He stepped out of his home and unlocked the grill from the metal pole that secured it.

“I thank you for your loan, that is more than sufficient,” added the minister as he wheeled the grill across the road and onto the village green.

Next, the minister found another gas grill – this time with an empty propane tank. After a similar conversation, he wheeled the second grill next to the first.

Then he found someone who had a little propane left in his tank a little further from the green and managed to acquire this and connected it to the first grill.

After that, the minister wound his way to some of the neighbors and was able to obtain four oversized pots – two for each grill.

With a little bit of a jig in his walk, the minster then went in search of water. “Just a little tap water will do just fine” he told them. Soon he had all four of the borrowed pots full.

By now, the villagers had become very curious. Even though they were suspicious of this stranger in their midst, what kind of harm could he do with four large pots of water, two gas grills and barely enough propane to light one grill for two minutes. They started to gather on the green, keeping their distance from this strange minister and each other, but curious one and the same.

The minister looked up from his work as he finished pouring the last of the water into the forth pot. He smiled broadly and pointed to the nearby picnic tables that had become grey and weathered and long since unused. “It’s going to take some time before the soup will be ready. Perhaps you could sit there and play some games until then.”

The villagers looked wide-eyed at the tables and back to the minister. “There’s no games over there,” one of the villagers called back.

The minister looked over at the tables as if surprised. “Oh, I haven’t gotten them yet. Does anyone know who would be willing to loan us some cards or maybe a board game we can play until the soup is ready?”

“I have some cards I can bring out,” one villager called back and hurried back to her home.

“My kids have some fun board games,” replied another and he hurried off in a different direction.

In no time there were quite a few villagers out on the green on this nice sunny autumn day. Some brought a baseball, bat and gloves and started an impromptu game in one corner; others were playing dodgeball or tag, while those gathered around the picnic tables watched or played the various games that had started there.

In the meantime the minister went out again, asking house to house for some salt, pepper, and common herbs and seasonings. These he added to the cold water in the four large pots above the two unlit grills.

A young man, at the prompting of some neighbors went over to the minister. “How do you expect to heat this soup without any propane?”

The minister tapped the gauge of one tank -- just under a sixteenth of a tank. “This is enough to start. But if someone could donate a little more, I would greatly appreciate it. It will heat up the soup that much faster.”

The young man, smiled and almost laughed. “I’d say it would….” He paused and glanced over at his family. “Say, I have about half a tank at home. This is probably the last time we’d have to use it. I’ll bring it over.”

The minister grinned broadly, “Thank you.”

By the time the young man walked back to the green with the propane tank on his shoulder, a second villager was heading out to get his. Soon the two grills were lit and a vapor of steam wafted off the surface of the contents of the four pots.

A middle-aged woman wandered over as minister was stirring with a long-handled wooden spoon he managed to borrow from somewhere. She glanced into the pots with a knowing eye and commented, “That’s a mighty thin soup you’ve got there.”

“Yes,” replied the minister with a sad smile. “But these are thin times and we can not give what we don’t have…”

The woman glanced at the minister and then at the growing crowd on the village green. “I have some potatoes I was planning for our dinner tonight. It looks like we’re going to be eating here instead, so I’ll bring them out to you. It’s not much but it will help your soup.”

The minister smiled broadly and the hints of tears appeared in his eyes. “That would be a very generous donation, ‘mam. Thank you very much.”

The woman returned with an armload of potatoes, just enough for one and a half in each pot. When she returned to the villagers gathered around the tables, some asked her why she gave the stranger her food. When she told them her reasons, a few others nodded and departed to their kitchens. Soon a few limp carrots and some cabbage were added to the pots.

An old man wandered over to pots and commented to the minister. “You know, sonny. I remember a lean time long before this. My mum would make soup like this back in the ‘30’s. It was a real treat for us when we could get hold of some chicken necks to toss in there.”

The minister’s nose crinkled a bit. “Chicken necks?”

“Aye, sonny, there’s some meat to be had on the necks and there’s flavor from the bones.”

The minister nodded and laughed a little. “It’s a nice thought, but I don’t think the local supermarket carries chicken necks.”

“Laugh and think what you will, sonny. But I used to be a butcher. I still do some butchering now and then.” And the old man winked at the minister. “I have some in my freezer now, if you promise not to tell the others what they are. They think I’m old and crazy as it is.”

The minister’s eyes widened with delight. “That would be wonderful!”

The old man shuffled off to his home humming an old tune that arose from his heart.

Little by little, the small donations the villagers made thickened the soup. Soon the aroma filled the village green and the hungry villagers passed the remaining time playing games, and singing songs accompanied by the guitars and other musical instruments people had brought out. Laughter and the buzz of conversation among neighbors rose in the village green as the shadows of the great oaks extended across the autumn-dry grass.

In the fading daylight the villagers headed home for their bowls and mugs as well as jackets and wraps. They lined up peaceably while the minister spooned out the soup to any who wanted it. In the cool air after a fun day in the sunshine, the soup was warm and wonderful. Everyone had a smile on their face.

Those who loaned the pots were surprised there was some soup leftover and offered some to their neighbors as they headed home.

When the gas grills where wheeled away and the last of the villagers were heading home in the darkness. The minister returned to his car with a sigh. He didn’t accomplish what he planned to do here; there was still no food for the soup kitchen… Then he heard two people talking as they walked by his car on their way home.

“You know, Joe, that was fun. We should do that more often.”

“You’re right, Bob. It’s amazing how far so little food could go.”

The minister smiled to himself as he realized maybe he didn’t fail at all…

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- ESA

9/11 Memories & Thanks

While many news stories cover memories of Americans from the terror that struck us one decade ago, I'd like to share a few stories recalled from those days - and thanks to many non-Americans.

When all traffic was grounded, several inbound flights were re-routed to our neighbors to the north in Canada. Canadians opened their hearts and opened their homes to displaced Americans who just wanted to get home to their loved ones after hearing the devastating news. Some even got into their cars and drove hundreds if not thousands of miles to get people home.

In Europe, not only did local residents share the news with visiting Americans and offer their heartfelt support on that day. A few days later, they held a three-minute moment of silence for us. One-minute is standard; three-minutes is unprecedented. And they didn't just bow their heads a moment. People eating lunch, put down their cups and utensils. People driving - local road and highway - as one pulled aside, stopped and gave us the full three minutes of silence. People stopped talking; radios were silent. This wasn't just in America; this was in Europe FOR America.

These are just two stories I've heard in the last 24 hours. There are many, many more cases where we were supported by others around the world. As we celebrate the 10th Anniversary of 9/11. Let us not only share our memories, let us be thankful for the support and heartfelt compassion shown by others around the world.

- ESA

Hurricane in Hindsight (True Stories)

While Irene did leave a path of destruction up the eastern US seaboard, there are a few nuggets I would like to share with my readers of things I've seen following in Irene's wake.

While in the dark for days in CT, we were able to use our battery-powered radio to get some news, including a broadcast I overheard from one of Long Island (NY)'s radio stations. While there was damage, and thousands of people were without electrical power, neighbor came out and helped neighbor. In other parts of the country, this may be the norm, but not as much in and around NYC. The news had the reporter in awe and he added, "We have not seen such neighborly acts of people reaching out to one another in this area since 9/11."

One story I heard from a customer in Richmond, VA: The day following the hurricane, no one in his neighborhood could get out of the driveway, let alone down the street. So many trees had fallen, but 15 neighbors in the area got together and spent the day cutting and moving the fallen trees. He jokingly added they were all stocked up with firewood for the winter.

In CT, the local news reported what areas were out of power. Those few who had power opened their homes for others to come over for a meal, a hot shower, or even just to charge their electronic devices, such as cell phones, laptops and children's video games. Local high schools acquired generators so they could offer the same. Each night, people in darkened homes would go outside and share with their neighbors the news they heard, report where there was food to buy, power to charge items, and where we may get some ice...

Within 24-hours there was a shortage on ice. However, untold numbers of water bottles were packed in working freezers as well as ice cubes bagged to go for friends and neighbors who had no power. Room was made in freezers & refrigerators to help keep what little food could be saved.

In some parts of our small state, there was no gas available; a combination of high demand for all the independent generators and vehicles, plus inaccessibility to get fuel trucks into areas and the stations not having power to pump the fuel. Many grabbed gas cans when power came back in their town and drove some fuel to others who lived in the more remote parts of the state, keeping them going a bit further. For those who may not realize this, unless one lives in a city or some of the "downtowns" that have public water, when you loose power, you loose water too.

In our apartment complex, a community dinner was organized on the third day without power. Anything that people had been able to keep with ice in melting freezers was cooked up, and we collectively sat outside on that beautiful evening to a feast that would rival many Thanksgiving dinners.

Other nights, a neighbor gathered fallen tree branches around the area and had a make-shift campfire in her bar-b-que. Kids spent the time chasing each other with flashlights and the light from their phones and video games, playing hide-and-seek in the vast darkness where we usually have many security lights.

One evening CT's public radio called a public radio station in Vermont to review the devastation and ask how our neighbors to the north were doing. From Vermont came a remarkable story that I have not heard shared elsewhere. In the communities that were completely cut off from the rest of the State because roads were washed away, neighbor came out to help neighbor "just as we did in the old days." There was a daily gathering in the town greens, where people asked what was needed and collectively determined how those needs would be met that day. They could not depend on supplies from outside. For example, they would go out into the fields and harvest what was ripe - by hand. Then they would gather again on the green and cook the food, sharing it so all could eat.

A week after the hurricane, we traveled to Long Island to help my mom. On our return trip Monday over the Throgs Neck Bridge we saw hundreds of CanFer electric utility worker trucks lined up from the toll gate. They were heading back to Texas after working on Long Island for the past week. How many others traveled to the east coast to repair outages from the Carolinas to Maine? While they are paid for their labor, I am sure many missed home and family. I, for one, appreciate their help. :)

There are sad stories, which the media loves to cover, much of which is already forgotten in the wake of other hurricanes, wildfires and other news. But there are also happy stories too. We were blessed with unseasonably beautiful weather for almost a week after the hurricane - perfect days where we did not need heat nor air-conditioning. The outages were scattered so that some power was found in driving distance. People had many opportunities to help others near and far.

When other disasters come in its day,
May neighbor help neighbor in this way.

- ESA