Small Change Charity

 

The Pick 'n Steal hasn't changed much over the years and I should know, I walk there pretty much every day for coffee after Morning Prayer. A bit samey perhaps, so I've decided to change things up.

Now, instead of leaving the P 'n S, 20 oz tumbler of coffee in hand and walking with urgency back to the Compound, I stop and put some change on a metal box fixed to the side of the shop.

Day 2, there's lots more now, untouched so far

It's a kind of experiment. How much change will accumulate before someone takes it? So far no one has and what does this mean? That our small farming community's rich and doesn't need the money? Hardly. That P 'n S customers aren't thieving scoundrels? If only that were true.

Let's see how this exciting exercise in small change charity unfolds. Hey, every penny counts and get 'em quick before our benevolent rulers ban cash. Speaking of charity, I put in some time at the food bank the other day, helping to unload a truck-full of food for the needy.

What a lot of food! Turkeys, chicken, ham, canned goods, delicious fish and on, not least boxes of farm fresh produce. Great result and it was good to help out for a good cause. We don't want to encourage scrounging malfeasance but neither do we want to see people going hungry.

Just a random small business shut down. Thanks, asset-strippers

They say clergy should spend time outside their churches doing good in the community. I'd agree with that and must do more. It was, you recall, the way of the early church.

Cheers,

LSP

A Country Stroll

One of the many benefits of living in LSPland is you get to go for gentle country walks through the sylvan boulevards of bucolic Texas. I do that every morning with Blue Pastoralia and it's become something of a ritual. Sometimes we walk by the Meth Shack on our way to the Pick 'n Steal (PnS).

Meth Shack Patriots

The Meth Shackers aren't usually up in the morning but sometimes you'll see them passed out and shirtless in the drive after a particularly hard and toothless night on the meth. Still, chances are they'll be stacking collectibles around the shack later in the day.

Stack 'er Up!

They find things on foraging expeditions, you see, and stack 'em up. Child's plastic car? Stack it on the roof and keep that yard in order. Speaking of yards, the Shack was hidden from view on one side by a vacant lot which had returned to nature, like ancient Rome in the 7th century. Then disaster struck.

Chop 'er Down!

Woodsmen turned up earlier this week and chopped down the meth jungle to make way for a new house. The Shackers aren't happy about this, not for a second, and look on in dismay as back hoes and chainsaws clear away assorted junk trees and trash. Who knows, maybe it'll be the shack's turn next.

Random skulduggery

And with that, we leave the Meth Shack and head to the Shamrock PnS for a strong cup of coffee. It's still run by Nepalese, despite being Irish, and Texan.

I file this exciting story under "country life."

Cheers,

LSP 

A Chance Encounter in Texas

We all get into routines, some are good, some less so. My routine is this. Say Morning Prayer from the 1928 Prayer Book, none of your newfangled rubbish, thank you very much, then take the dog for a walk and get a coffee. That's what I did today, and as I was standing outside the filling station, sipping my coffee, and enjoying the crisp, sunny Texan morning, I heard singing.

It was faint at first and sounded like a spiritual. The singing grew louder; sure enough, it was a spiritual and its source was a middle aged black man walking down the road by the 1st Baptist Church. He was wearing a Russian style hat with ear flaps and a dirty old parka, defense against the cold, I suppose.

Blue Stryker went on guard as the singing gentleman came closer and stopped,  just out of range of the leashed dog. I smiled at him and he smiled back, "Is that a cow dog?" he asked, "They're real smart dogs! I got three. Say, do you have a cigarette?" I told I did and threw him one, as he cleverly stayed out of the dog's attack zone. "Bless you, brother," he said, and went on his way, singing his spiritual. "God bless you," I replied, and meant it.

I liked that man and file this story under "country life in Texas."

Your Old Friend,

LSP