My father was a writer. He wrote all of his life, inflicting upon many of us his novels, plays, articles, essays, and self-help books. Some were marvelous; some merely well-intentioned. But of all the things he wrote, his journal is his legacy: by turns wise and bewildering, it neared 1,100 type-written pages when he died in 2010. Although perused many times, this is the first time it will be read - cover to cover, page after page.
Thursday, February 28, 2013
Giving To Ourselves, Too
After we had given to all the charities and marched on behalf of everyone who needed our company, after we had sent them to Appalachia and uptown to the poorer parts of town, after we had collected clothing, food, and money and whatever else had been asked, she wondered when our turn would come. When would we give to us. It was a fair question, but we had defined ourselves and our belief in terms of giving. It was a one-sided thing, and so was incomplete. Give to us too. Treat ourselves as fairly and as well. It puts equity into the process and acknowledges our goodness. Giving is fine, but it should include us all.
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