Walls or Bridges?

I used to tell a story in my days working in libraries with kids, and its been on my mind lately. I know reading is not the same as hearing, but do your best to hear it being told…

Once upon a time there were two neighbors who were also farmers and friends. They’d been all three for almost forty years. Trading stories, tools, helping each other put up hay–all the things that farmers, neighbors, and friends do for each other.

And then one day they had a falling out. Oh, it was over something stupid, like Paul lost Joe’s favorite hay rake; or Joe called Paul a name in jest and Paul took it wrong. What they argued about doesn’t really matter because the next day Paul took his tractor and dug a big ditch between the two men’s properties. Water from the top of the hill searched out the ditch and now a decent-sized creek was the boundary line between the two farms, when before, there had been none.

There was a terrible silence between the two men for weeks.

One day Joe looked up from working in the barn to see a man standing in the doorway. He was carrying a wooden tool box that was well filled with awls, rasps, screws, and nails. He had two saws in a pack on his back. “G’mornin,” he said with an easy smile. “Got any projects you need done or things you might need fixin’?”

Joe thought a bit and then smiled back. “You’ve come at a good time. Follow me.” Joe led the carpenter down to the rushing stream. “Ya see this crick? T’wasn’t here three weeks ago. My neighbor put it in to spite me, and I’m mighty mad about the whole thing. I want you to build me a nice wall with that pile a lumber I have in the barn. And I’ll pay ya well if ya do a good job.”

The carpenter nodded. “I have just the project in mind for you. I think you’ll be pleased.”

“I have to go to town today,” Joe told the carpenter. “I can get ya more wood if you think you’ll need some.”

“I think this will be plenty,” the carpenter told him. He took his saws from his sack, spread his tools on the ground, and hurried off to haul the lumber he needed to get to work.

When Joe returned from town late in the afternoon, his jaw dropped at the sight. There across the creek was a graceful wooden bridge with sturdy railings and a deck big enough to support a tractor or a truck or a wagon. And there on the other side of the bridge was his neighbor Paul waving and smiling. He crossed the bridge and grabbed Joe’s hand, shaking it up and down with abandon. “I have to say I don’t know what possessed you to have this bridge built after these last weeks of ugliness between us, but I am so glad you did. I’ve wondered and wondered how we could ever make a bridge over what happened, and dog gone it, you went and done it. Built a bridge right over it.” He shook his head in amazement.

Joe was stunned into silence, but he had a grin smeared all over his face. “T’wasn’t me,” he finally stuttered to his friend. “It was this here carpenter gent’s work.”

They turned to look at the carpenter who was packing up his tools. Joe called to him, “Please don’t go. I got several other projects for ya — you did a fine job on this one.”

The carpenter shook his head and smiled.  He shouldered his saws, picked up his tool box, and waved at the two friends. “I can’t stay,” he told them. “I’ve got other bridges to build.” And with those last words he disappeared over the hill.

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

We live in a world that builds walls, but bridge building can be done by anyone–you don’t have to be a carpenter or an engineer. What kind of bridge can you build? A footbridge? A covered bridge? Or a glorious bridge that overcomes fear and unforgiveness? Imitate the carpenter–love your neighbor and build a bridge, not a wall.

This story has been around for a long time, mostly as Author Unknown. I found it as “Old Joe and the Carpenter” in Thirty-Three Multicultural Tales to Tell by Pleasant DeSpain. Margaret Read MacDonald published a version by the same name in Peace Tales. When I searched the internet I found an original version–much longer and more colorful–as a story On the Hills and Everywhere written by Manly Wade Wellman (ca. 1956) in a book of stories called John the Balladeer.  This is my own version. 

Love Song

Christmas angel

Wishing you love, joy, peace, and hope this Christmas.

i don’t want a narrow view of love:
you love me and i’ll love you
— no —
don’t want just my needs, wants, don’t needs, don’t wants.

You give love unconditionally
not caring if i love you back right
or if i slip back into that
blind sight of loving you wrong.

there are countless languages that speak love
and i want to know them all
give them all
freely
to you.

i want to fly right over the chasm
where ordinary
freefalls and plummets;

instead you get my imperfect botched love
tainted by pride and selfish fears
while you give me
thirty roses
every day —
the extravagant
exquisite
excruciating
reminder
of those lost thirty years.

40. 13 for ’13

There are two kinds of people in the world:

1. those who would go to Times Square for New Years Eve, and those who couldn’t be paid enough to go…pink &blue sunset

2. those who go out for New Year Eve, and those who stay home…Beaujolais in crystal

3. those who would rehab an old vacant house, and those who would look for a new one instead…Peeling paint

4. Savers and Pitchers…pottery pitcher

5. Dreamers and Doers…priming the cottage

6. those who love city streets, and those who love dirt roads…
Joe's sign

7. those who stay, and those who go…
vacant lawn chairs

8. those who love snow, and those who, uhmm… don’t…Snow on porch

9. those who take naps, and those who feel superior to those who take naps…
Cat napping

10. those who believe and those who scoff…Cross

11. those who look up and those who look down…Clouds and trees

12. those who eat their fruits and vegetables, and those who eat their meat’n potatoes…groundhog eating apple

13. those whose glass is half-empty and those whose glass is half-full…Crystal goblet at Christmas

At different times in our lives, we can be any of these.
Me? I have been all these people–a city lover, a country girl, a scoffer, a believer, an optimist, a pessimist, a dreamer, a doer…
Can we remember this?
Can we remember that our differences make this beautiful world what it is?
Can we let go of our prejudices, our prides, our preconceptions, our (fill in the blank here)… and love each other?

I wish you joy and love in 2013.