1958- I remember it just like it was, well…, a really long time ago! Very few specifics really stand out about that time in my life, except for time spent with a very best friend who was the son of our next door neighbors. Neither of the families had an abundance of money, but that never seemed to matter in the least to a couple adventurous four-year-olds.
We always found ways to keep our time occupied, whether it was playing games, throwing rocks at cans, or scouting around the vast couple acres surrounding our duplex. At the time, it seemed like the whole world was there for us to explore.
On one of the property boundaries, there was an abandoned irrigation ditch that gathered its fair share of refuse. Although cast-off items were certainly somebody’s throwaways, we saw them as treasures that maybe we could figure out how to play with, or use in a fort that we constructed- we had our own private haven that was all of 50 feet from our parents’ front doors.
One day, when we went out to play, we discovered someone had tossed several old paint cans in the ditch, probably hoping to save a trip all the way out to the town dump.
With our adventurous minds in full gear, we mutually agreed that maybe we could paint something! Whatever we thought we might be able to paint totally escapes my mind now, but I’m sure it must have needed painting.
I started opening cans first, only to find, to my disappointment, that whatever liquid remained in the bottom of the first can looked old, separated and yucky. As I impatiently opened another can, and then another, only to find more old, separated paint remains, I glanced over at my friend. He had found a stick, grabbed the first can I opened and was patiently stirring away at the goo in the bottom. I watched, wondering what he thought he might accomplish. With steady persistence, in a short time he showed me that, indeed, there was now some colorful, useable paint in the bottom of the can. He kept stirring. I opened more cans. When they were all opened (at least the ones that still had the appearance of liquid in the bottom), I grabbed a stick and started stirring myself. Before long, we had a bright array of colorful paint, just waiting for us to paint whatever we thought we should paint. I can only imagine there were some interestingly colored bushes and rocks around the property after our little afternoon of youthful artistry.
Somehow that lesson has stayed with me through life. Often I see others in such a hurry, discarding things that don’t immediately grab their attention as perfect and ready to go. And often, I’ve been able to pick up discarded ideas, patiently stirred for a little bit, and created new colors to add to the scene.
How often do most of us quickly cast aside “old cans of paint”, scrambling to find something more perfect and made to order?
And in the political realm, how often do we encounter new ideas (or candidates) that aren’t perfectly, completely as we’d imagined they should be, and simply brush them off, without even attempting to vet their merits or capabilities?
Perhaps it’s time to slow down now and then, take a second look inside the “cans”, and maybe even do a little stirring here and there.
I’ll bet if we look at the road ahead with a little of that perspective, we can figure out all manners of ways to create a more beautiful world.
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