Faintly visible and stamped on the garbage truck is the words DON'T LITTER and this is as good a time as any to tell why I am the opposite of a litter bug:
Many many years ago, a father and son were walking in Whitestone Park. The father said "Stop here, Paul," and did as I was told. He had been holding my hand but released it and pointed to a piece of litter. "Paul, who made the world?" "God made the world." "Correct." Then he looked me in the eye and said "Do you think God likes litter?" I didn't say a word but I picked up the crumpled piece of paper on the ground. He said nothing but we started walking in the direction of a waste receptacle, where I deposited the the piece of paper. We walked home wordlessly but he held my my hand with a maximum of comfort.
Many, many years later, a fifty-three-old man and a three-year-old girl [the daughter of his lover] were walking around the block while her mother slept. A crumpled piece of paper was on the sidewalk in front of us. I said "Rebecca, stop here."
My Father's question from a half-century ago resurfaced and then I said "Rebecca, who made the world?" Her immediate response was "Not me!"
I laughed my ass off, picked up the litter, and stuffed it into my pocket.
We proceeded around the block and arrived home, where bacon and eggs were sizzling on the stove.
I never told Rebecca's mother what happened moments before.
Hardly a day goes by where I don't pick up up litter if it isn't soiled and I don't say anything about it to anyone
Faintly visible and stamped on the garbage truck is the words DON'T LITTER
ReplyDeleteand this is as good a time as any to tell why I am the opposite
of a litter bug:
Many many years ago, a father and son were walking in Whitestone Park.
The father said "Stop here, Paul," and did as I was told.
He had been holding my hand but released it and pointed to
a piece of litter.
"Paul, who made the world?"
"God made the world."
"Correct."
Then he looked me in the eye and said
"Do you think God likes litter?"
I didn't say a word but I picked up the crumpled piece of paper
on the ground.
He said nothing but we started walking in the direction of
a waste receptacle, where I deposited the the piece of paper.
We walked home wordlessly but he held my my hand
with a maximum of comfort.
Many, many years later, a fifty-three-old man and a three-year-old girl
[the daughter of his lover] were walking around the block
while her mother slept.
A crumpled piece of paper was on the sidewalk in front of us.
I said "Rebecca, stop here."
My Father's question from a half-century ago resurfaced
and then I said "Rebecca, who made the world?"
Her immediate response was "Not me!"
I laughed my ass off, picked up the litter,
and stuffed it into my pocket.
We proceeded around the block
and arrived home, where bacon and eggs
were sizzling on the stove.
I never told Rebecca's mother what happened
moments before.
Hardly a day goes by where I don't pick up up litter
if it isn't soiled and I don't say anything about it to anyone
-Oliverio