* Back in the '50s there was a pea cannery in Walla Walla, WA, where I worked the night shift on the can line, living in a bunk house with 70 other workers in one room. There were guys of all races, prospects and getting-by strategies. There was a black man, older than most of us, with a background in heavy construction and pimping, nicknamed Moon because we admired his rendition of "Blue Moon".
* One evening while walking the quarter mile from bunk house to factory, after recounting a couple of brothel stories, Moon pontificated that society is like a bucket of crabs -- only a few can be on top; the vast majority must struggle down below and can rise only by climbing over and displacing others downward. That analogy saddened me then and has haunted me since.
* Moon messed up my mind. I can't forget that the comforts of my status derive from the efforts of others with less comforts today and historically, often unjustly. I can't stop wishing for more satisfaction lower in the bucket, examining how my choices affect those looking up, wondering what I could share that would spread some happiness throughout the bucket.
* This reminiscence is in reaction to several recent letters repeating sentiments of Fox Talk Radio, where there is a daily diet of white entitlement, resentment, contempt, self righteousness and hate. Grinding down the less fortunate reduces happiness throughout the bucket.
* PS: I haven't eaten a canned pea since 1956.
No comments:
Post a Comment