Day 164
We decided to go all out on this kindness thing and turn our college fund over to charity. Sort of...
When we moved into our house 11 years ago and our oldest son was just 9 months old, my husband put a coffee can by the washing machine for change that went through the laundry. He put on a label that said “College Fund.” We recently decided that, since it wasn't exactly adding up to a huge amount and that by the time they went to college, it wouldn't put a dent in the bill, perhaps we could find a better use for our collection.
I asked my younger son to help me roll the change and pick where he would like to donate the money. Full disclosure here; his first response was that thought we should give it to him and his brother for arcade games. I said....no. I then told him about a recent article in the paper indicating that our local animal shelter was desperate for funds since town budget cuts left them with no money for veterinary care. He did an immediate about face and said absolutely that's where the money should go. He is incredibly soft-hearted when it comes to animals, thus playing right into my hands...
In case you are wondering just how much money went through our wash in 11 years, that would be 35 dollars and some odd change. Maybe by the time the boys do go to college, we could wash enough money to buy one book between the two of them. Maybe. I think spending the money on something my son really cared about is much more worthwhile. Besides, what would our sons do with half a book anyway?
Last night, on our way home from an event downtown, we decided to park our bikes at a neighborhood pub and go in for a drink and some fries. It was close to 12am, much later than we're used to being out. We ate our fries (with cheese, scallions, garlic, and ranch!)and took our time finishing our drinks up at the bar. An older man wandered in and sat a few stools down. The bartender gave him a menu and he explained that he couldn't read. She read him the available food and after each item he asked about the price. He made his choice carefully, and went for the fries. When we paid our bill, without him knowing, we paid his. As we were leaving, I was dancing (or whatever you call it) to the Van Morrison on the jukebox. He turned to look at me, snapped his fingers, wagged his head, and laughed - then returned to eating his fries. Thanks for the inspiration, Betsy!
ReplyDeleteThis is so great to hear! I am struck by a couple of things. One, how honored I feel that you are finding inspiration in this blog. And two, how you manage to make sitting at bar eating fries with garlic, scallions and cheese sound like part of a magical evening.
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