Thoughts for the day.

Things, stuff, existence, being, happiness, sadness, life, coldness, love, giving of oneself, materialistic life.

Do you know anyone who identifies them self by what they own, what they can purchase, what they wear, what they drive? These thoughts were swirling around as we drove by storage units, lines and lines of storage units, filled with stuff. There was a couple at one, the door was open and it was filled with stuff. We went by at 55 mph, and even at that speed , I saw boxes, and grills, and stuff. Now for the benefit of the doubt maybe they are in between places to live, But, in my humble opinion, most storage areas probably house extra stuff, we really do not need.

There are many reasons, and I am just as guilty as the next, but we do not have to rent a storage shed. We have stuff, and with this weight loss journey, I was glad I had saved in bins clothes we had  become too large for, because on this journey back down the scale, we have clothes to wear.

I have known people who grew up during the depression and there was not a lot of anything, this one person I knew, she saved EVERYTHING. She washed out plastic food bags, and saved the plastic molded covers that would go over an item on a piece of cardboard. Bows for gifts used to come on a cardboard backing with protective plastic covering them- she saved them to maybe need to have a terrarium. Saving every piece of wrapping paper- every used ribbon from gifts. But in these storage areas, it looks often like furniture, boxes, plastic bins, lots of stuff.

 I am reminded of a man who used to come to the Italian restaurant I was the counter girl at for a few months in my teens. He liked me, he was a sweet old man. He came to the restaurant on his John Deere. His clothes tethered, his smile could warm the coldest day, and his life’s wisdom priceless.. he walked with a limp, and always came in with just change, he has knit gloves he wore with the fingertips off them and fraying yarn surrounded each finger. His fingertips calloused with lines accented by grease- so I could see his fingerprint shape.   A chuckle from the gutt, and he would order a bowl of hot water and glass of cold water with a lemon slice. He would squirt catsup in the bowl, enough to make a bowl of tomato soup, I would bring him a couple packs of saltine crackers,  and the slice of lemon freshened his water. His tab was always zero. He came to chat, for warmth, for some sort of nourishment, I was a friend to him in a way, and he always left me a tip of a quarter- sometimes 50 cents. He got the change, driving his lawn tractor through the parking lot of a near by bar/disco type establishment.

I am pretty sure he did not have lots of stuff, and he did have a heart he wore proudly, he had words to share, and seemed to accept life as it was. He is what life is about… he was real. And all he asked for was time to share conversation, some water, and he got by. And I really can say, I think I got more from him in those few months I worked there, than I ever had from anyone with stuff… We need to be real, we need to give of ourselves, and let others know they mean something to us. To listen and not always have a one-up response when a person is talking to us.

My mom used to say… “You can’t buy love.” and “you  can’t by friends.”

So I end this with a few words… just be real…and people will mean so much more to you and you to them. Love to all, mrs justa..alias Cindy ( These photos are off Google images… )

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