Working for What’s Yours

I was at the coffee shop the other morning, and there’s this young guy sitting there with his phone… staring at it the way you do when the numbers don’t add up right. Direct deposit had just hit. You could see it in his face… doing the math, realizing half of what he worked for all week is already gone.

I never had that problem myself, not really. Grew up on a farm where what you grew was yours, what you built was yours. Later on I worked for myself, so the work and what came from it… well, that stayed with me. But I’ve been watching it happen to people my whole life. That look when they open the envelope or check their phone and see what’s left.

Someone else decided. Someone who wasn’t there with them in the cold at six in the morning, wasn’t sweating through their shirt on a late shift. Just… took it. They call it taxes, say it keeps the roads fixed and the hospitals running. Maybe it does. But the work was theirs, the hours were theirs, and somehow half the pay isn’t.

On the farm, it was different. You planted corn, you got corn. Built a fence, you had a fence. Simple as that. Nobody stood there saying, “Well, we’ll take half those fence posts before you can use them.” The work matched what you kept.

I’ve been noticing something lately with the younger people… the ones still working those jobs, still getting paychecks with half of it missing. They’re starting to figure something out.

Up here in the small towns where you can still see the northern lights on a clear night, people are doing things different. Not loud about it, just… quiet. Mrs. Henderson grows tomatoes now, trades them with the Johnsons for eggs. Old Pete fixed his barn last summer with help from half the neighborhood, and nobody sent an invoice. That young guy from the hardware store… he’s learning to can vegetables from his grandmother.

It’s not about breaking rules. It’s about remembering something that used to be common sense. When you grow something, build something, fix something with your own hands… it’s yours. All of it. The work and what comes from it. Nobody’s standing there taking half before you can even see what you made.

I don’t know what’s fair, what’s right. Those are bigger questions. But I understand why people who work hard want to hold onto something that feels like theirs. Why they want the effort to match what they get to keep.

So they’re building things again, growing things, fixing things themselves. Holding onto whatever they can.

Makes you wonder what work is really supposed to mean.

Until the next time: Keep Your Minds Open & Your Stories Alive.

“Where are we going George?” 
“Oh… I don’t know where would you like to go?”
"Well, we haven’t visited Mrs. Watson in a while, and as you know, she’s always making cookies and things."
"Yep, she does make good cookies, that’s for sure, and, since it’s such a nice day, I think you're right; we should pay her a visit. Let me grab my things!"
It didn’t take me long to get ready, and we were on our way. You know, if I had a nickel for every time I daydreamed about her cookies, I’d have enough money to buy my own bakery. The only problem with that is, I probably would’ve eaten all the inventory.
“Hey George,” do you think she will have those chocolate chip ones? You know, the ones that are so gooey that they practically melt in your mouth?’
“She usually does?” I replied, drooling a bit.  “But she is always making new kinds!”
“Well I sure hope she doesn’t make any with raisins in them. I don’t think I can handle them.”
I laughed. “You’re being a bit picky now, aren’t you?”
“Me? Picky? Never. I just know what I like, thank you very much. And it’s not like I’m asking for much. All I want is a cookie. Sheesh!
Anyway, we got on our way, and as we walked along, I couldn’t help but notice the trees were out in full leaf, and the wildflowers were bursting with color and the air was full of the scent they were giving off.
“You know, George, if I were a poet, I’d write a good one about today. Something like, ‘Roses are red, violets are blue, cookies are great, and I’m quite fond of you.”
“Not bad,” I laughed. “But I think you might want to stick with your day job.”
“Day job? You mean following you around and putting up with your nonsense? Yeah, I take that pretty seriously.”
As we got near Mrs Watson's home I could smell the sweet aroma floating through the air.  “Best we hurry," I said, “as they taste even better when they are warm.”
We reached the door and I knocked and a moment later, Mrs Watson opened it saying. “Well, if it isn’t my two favorite visitors. Come on in and set a spell.”
As I stepped in I was greeted by the sight of flour, sugar and the unmistakable scent of freshly baked treats.  
Not forgetting she walked to the door and hollered out, “I made your favorite, Jennie!” turning to me with a twinkle in her eye.
“You did?”
“Yep, homemade ‘carrot’ cookies.”
“Well I’ll be darned.”
With that, Jennie got to eating, and once she finished I asked. “So how were the cookies?”
“Very tasty, I must admit, and the best part was… she didn’t put any raisins in them.”
After we had our fill and a good chat, we headed off into the sunset, enjoying Mrs. Watson’s carrot cookies.
You know, sometimes the best adventures are the ones that surprise you… carrots and all. Oh, and for those who didn’t know, Jennie was my horse, many years ago, and as for her talking?
Well, let’s just say that with a little imagination, anything’s possible.
That's the story for this week folks. If you’d like to help keep the stories coming, there’s a coffee link below. Much appreciated.
https://buymeacoffee.com/keepingnotes
In Closing, I Would Like to Wish You Well!
You can reach George Walters at: [email protected]

A Day of Sweetness

“Where are we going George?”

“Oh… I don’t know where would you like to go?”

“Well, we haven’t visited Mrs. Watson in a while, and as you know, she’s always making cookies and things.”

“Yep, she does make good cookies, that’s for sure, and, since it’s such a nice day, I think you’re right; we should pay her a visit. Let me grab my things!”

It didn’t take me long to get ready, and we were on our way. You know, if I had a nickel for every time I daydreamed about her cookies, I’d have enough money to buy my own bakery. The only problem with that is, I probably would’ve eaten all the inventory.

“Hey George,” do you think she will have those chocolate chip ones? You know, the ones that are so gooey that they practically melt in your mouth?’

“She usually does?” I replied, drooling a bit. “But she is always making new kinds!”

“Well I sure hope she doesn’t make any with raisins in them. I don’t think I can handle them.”

I laughed. “You’re being a bit picky now, aren’t you?”

“Me? Picky? Never. I just know what I like, thank you very much. And it’s not like I’m asking for much. All I want is a cookie. Sheesh!

Anyway, we got on our way, and as we walked along, I couldn’t help but notice the trees were out in full leaf, and the wildflowers were bursting with color and the air was full of the scent they were giving off.

“You know, George, if I were a poet, I’d write a good one about today. Something like, ‘Roses are red, violets are blue, cookies are great, and I’m quite fond of you.”

“Not bad,” I laughed. “But I think you might want to stick with your day job.”

“Day job? You mean following you around and putting up with your nonsense? Yeah, I take that pretty seriously.”

As we got near Mrs Watson’s home I could smell the sweet aroma floating through the air. “Best we hurry,” I said, “as they taste even better when they are warm.”

We reached the door and I knocked and a moment later, Mrs Watson opened it saying. “Well, if it isn’t my two favorite visitors. Come on in and set a spell.”

As I stepped in I was greeted by the sight of flour, sugar and the unmistakable scent of freshly baked treats.

Not forgetting she walked to the door and hollered out, “I made your favorite, Jennie!” turning to me with a twinkle in her eye.

“You did?”

“Yep, homemade ‘carrot’ cookies.”

“Well I’ll be darned.”

With that, Jennie got to eating, and once she finished I asked. “So how were the cookies?”

“Very tasty, I must admit, and the best part was… she didn’t put any raisins in them.”

After we had our fill and a good chat, we headed off into the sunset, enjoying Mrs. Watson’s carrot cookies.

You know, sometimes the best adventures are the ones that surprise you… carrots and all. Oh, and for those who didn’t know, Jennie was my horse, many years ago, and as for her talking?

Well, let’s just say that with a little imagination, anything’s possible.

That’s the story for this week folks. If you’d like to help keep the stories coming, there’s a coffee link below. Much appreciated.

https://buymeacoffee.com/keepingnotes

In Closing, I Would Like to Wish You Well!

You can reach George Walters at: [email protected]

A Day of Sweetness

“Where are we going George?”

“Oh… I don’t know where would you like to go?”

“Well, we haven’t visited Mrs. Watson in a while, and as you know, she’s always making cookies and things.”

“Yep, she does make good cookies, that’s for sure, and, since it’s such a nice day, I think you’re right; we should pay her a visit. Let me grab my things!”

It didn’t take me long to get ready, and we were on our way. You know, if I had a nickel for every time I daydreamed about her cookies, I’d have enough money to buy my own bakery. The only problem with that is, I probably would’ve eaten all the inventory.

“Hey George,” do you think she will have those chocolate chip ones? You know, the ones that are so gooey that they practically melt in your mouth?’

“She usually does?” I replied, drooling a bit. “But she is always making new kinds!”

“Well I sure hope she doesn’t make any with raisins in them. I don’t think I can handle them.”

I laughed. “You’re being a bit picky now, aren’t you?”

“Me? Picky? Never. I just know what I like, thank you very much. And it’s not like I’m asking for much. All I want is a cookie. Sheesh!

Anyway, we got on our way, and as we walked along, I couldn’t help but notice the trees were out in full leaf, and the wildflowers were bursting with color and the air was full of the scent they were giving off.

“You know, George, if I were a poet, I’d write a good one about today. Something like, ‘Roses are red, violets are blue, cookies are great, and I’m quite fond of you.”

“Not bad,” I laughed. “But I think you might want to stick with your day job.”

“Day job? You mean following you around and putting up with your nonsense? Yeah, I take that pretty seriously.”

As we got near Mrs Watson’s home I could smell the sweet aroma floating through the air. “Best we hurry,” I said, “as they taste even better when they are warm.”

We reached the door and I knocked and a moment later, Mrs Watson opened it saying. “Well, if it isn’t my two favorite visitors. Come on in and set a spell.”

As I stepped in I was greeted by the sight of flour, sugar and the unmistakable scent of freshly baked treats.

Not forgetting she walked to the door and hollered out, “I made your favorite, Jennie!” turning to me with a twinkle in her eye.

“You did?”

“Yep, homemade ‘carrot’ cookies.”

“Well I’ll be darned.”

With that, Jennie got to eating, and once she finished I asked. “So how were the cookies?”

“Very tasty, I must admit, and the best part was… she didn’t put any raisins in them.”

After we had our fill and a good chat, we headed off into the sunset, enjoying Mrs. Watson’s carrot cookies.

You know, sometimes the best adventures are the ones that surprise you… carrots and all. Oh, and for those who didn’t know, Jennie was my horse, many years ago, and as for her talking?

Well, let’s just say that with a little imagination, anything’s possible.

That’s the story for this week folks. If you’d like to help keep the stories coming, there’s a coffee link below. Much appreciated.

https://buymeacoffee.com/keepingnotes

In Closing, I Would Like to Wish You Well!

You can reach George Walters at: [email protected]

Click on Picture to Enlarge

Christmas has a way of slowing things down, or at least it should. The rush of the year finally eases, the days are shorter, and the quiet reminds us of what truly matters. It’s a time for family, for memories, and for a bit of reflection on the road we’ve walked to get here.

I’ve always believed Christmas isn’t about how much is under the tree, but who’s gathered around it… whether in person or in thought. Some chairs may be empty this year, and some faces may be new. That’s the way life goes. We carry the past with us, and we keep moving forward, doing the best we can.

Any way… wherever you are, I hope you find a moment of peace today. A good meal, a warm fire, a phone call from someone you haven’t heard from in a while, or just a quiet cup of coffee and your own thoughts. Those simple things are often the greatest gifts of all.

So from my place to yours, I want to wish you and your families a very Merry Christmas. May the season treat you kindly, and may the coming year bring steady ground, good health, and reasons to be thankful.

Take care of yourselves, and of one another.

Until the next time:
Keep Your Minds Open & Your Stories Alive.