Stone soup
One large pot of water, one large stone: Bring to a boil.
Add one of each contribution: potato, carrot, turnip, onion, green pepper. Etc.
Boil until done, add salt and pepper to taste, serve while hot
After all the lies, villainy, cheating, thuggery, dishonesty, it has been a relief to take some hours to remember and celebrate contributions to this honorable country that sits ready for fascistic take-over.
Right now, there is chaos after chaos, yet the whisper is always, “Remember where you came from and who was there with you.” I look at the stack of books on the table and I must celebrate the libraries that have accompanied my nine decades, especially the Eureka Springs Carnegie Library. No chaos. Only one of the finest groups of people and books ever assembled under one roof.
During Covid these people kept us sane, I think, by putting bags of books outside for us to pick up and, I was told, would have delivered them to our door if needed. For me, because my mobility has been tested by too many falls, they continue to curbside my bags of books. They are a major part of the magic of life in this small town not at all different from thousands of others where we experience life, liberty, and pursue happiness.
The mail carrier delivers mail daily, the large yellow trucks pick up recycling weekly. Stores and gas stations and restaurants all open their doors to provide. Organizations and churches come together and, no matter how much they quarrel, guide our days.
Doctors, dentists and pharmacies heal our bodies. The interlocking parts create the magic of our times and our lives.
Way back in grade school I read a story about sticks… one alone would break and provide no defense, two would be strong, a dozen would be unbreakable. Yesterday, I bound together a dozen paper straws and tried to bend them. Couldn’t. I called them names. I signed proclamations. I imposed tariffs. I accused them of being leftist Democrats. I lied that they really were bent, claimed I’d already done it. But the fact was that they weren’t bent, and I couldn’t bend them.
Soup or straws, we create a whole stronger than the parts. We the people.
Marie Howard