Archive for April 20th, 2017

The Flower Thief

There are three major elements to our back yard. One of these is an extensive garden of flowers. A second is our in ground swimming pool, not too large but neither is it too small. The third element is our vegetable garden with ground beds and raised beds. In the summer, the back yard is a delight of fragrant roses, lilies, and other assorted flowers. The pool is, generally, crystal clear. The vegetables are growing and it’s a nice place to be. The front yard is also quite beautiful. Juli has planted close to 700 bulbs of daffodils and tulips, hyacinth and god-only-knows-what else. Midway down the brick walk and set to the left of the front door is our lamp post, surrounded by a flock of daffodils that looks impenetrable – trust me, it’s not – but will soon be blessed with tulips, I hope.

Directly in front of the house is a planting. Juli has also filled much of this area with bulbs – thus, the more than 700. Many of these are now in blossom, including many of the tulips. “Okay,” you’re saying, “get to the point.” Simply put, some son-of-a-bitch came to the front of the house and cut a bunch of tulips for him or herself. You want tulips, come to the front door, knock, and ask. It’s a very simple request. Could they have done that and we didn’t answer the door because we were out? Sure, it’s possible, but then, you don’t cut the flowers, you come back another day. The fact that they were cut with scissors is rather obvious, and, quite frankly, it really ticks me off.

I really shouldn’t be surprised that someone would simply walk up to the front of the house and cut flowers for themselves. After all, that seems to confirm what I believe is the attitude of many people these days. “I see it; I want it; I’ll take it; and if you stop me, you’re a hater…or worse.” People appear to think only of themselves in the 21st Century. Someone ahead of you is driving at the speed limit but you wish to go faster? No problem, just ram them or honk your horn, or run them off the road, or better yet, shoot the dumb bastard! The teacher gives your kid a poor mark on a report card, either for a class or a deportment rating – do they still do that? – and who gets questioned? Certainly not your kid. Your kid is perfect. The teacher is an idiot. Teachers aren’t what they used to be, et cetera, et cetera. Your kid is one of those who plays for three outs…in right field…and a single time at bat…and still gets a trophy for participation. What the hell is that all about? The light turns green and the person behind you immediately starts honking the horn…is there a bloody fire somewhere or something? Did you ever hear of the poem, “Patience?” It goes like this: “Patience is a virtue, find it if you can…seldom in a woman; never in a man.” It seems that today, it’s “never” in both sexes. Of course, that light story has two sides: If you’re the second car and the one in front doesn’t move because the telephone he or she is talking on is more important than driving, perhaps one should remind that driver that this you’re on a road, not in an office or sitting in the kitchen.

Don’t get me wrong, I like people. I enjoy most people I meet. I have a number friends who attend the same gym I attend, and while we don’t invite each other to dinner, we enjoy each other’s company. That’s me. There are others who are not interested in socializing, and that, too, is fine by me, but through it all, you don’t just walk into someone’s yard and cut yourself a bouquet of their flowers. I may have told you the story of the woman in Wellesley who lived across the street from the Babson College campus. Men from the physical plant department had been putting fall flowers at the two entrances to campus, and when break time came, they took theirs. Imagine their surprise when they returned from break to find this woman loading a wheelbarrow with the plants they had just put in the ground. When questioned, the woman was incensed. She began to chew the men out because they told her that she was stealing. “Babson has plenty of money, and there are plenty of plants on your truck,” she told them. It wasn’t until one of them took out a cell phone and told her he was calling the Wellesley Police that she dumped the wheelbarrow and went back across the street. I really don’t know whether she came back under the cover of darkness and stole more plants or not. To put things somewhat in perspective, Wellesley is a somewhat snooty town (with no reason to be so), and the section of town where the College is located is also home to some of the more expensive abodes and across the street from the local country club…tennis courts – in and outdoor, swimming pool, and, obviously, the full 18-hole golf course…my dear!

The whole thing just pisses me off. What’s yours in yours and what’s mine is mine. If you wish to ask me to share, I might and I might not, but you will, at least, have asked. Had our flower thief asked, Juli would probably have handed her a vase with water, along with a pair of scissors…oh, that’s right, she or he had scissors…how silly of me to forget. Thoughtfulness, not thievery, gets rewarded.

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