Grounded in simpler joys
My late father Arthur knew his fair share of struggles. He seemed, though, to be grounded in the simpler joys. Arthur had something even if in some estimation he had very little.
Arthur and I had an arrangement. He would cook us both lunch on a Saturday. I would provide the ingredients.Arthur liked it down on the riverbank. A fishing rod in hand. I don’t think it mattered to him if any fish were caught.He dearly liked gardening. Arthur often showed me his latest tomato, the product of his efforts.While I was rehabilitating from illness, Arthur encouraged me to grow potatoes. I can still visualise him measuring out the spacing between the seed potatoes.More than anything, I remember Arthur as a friend.Seemingly “we” generally have a desire to raise the living standard. Things become more things. Sophistication is equated with more life.Perhaps Arthur, without having much, had something priceless. Perhaps a gateway to a special city.JONATHAN HANSARD