Greed and gratitude from my Memory Box

Greed always brings man to his downfall. Once selfishness is cultured in one’s system, one’s body and soul experience decay. 

With gratitude, however, those gripped with greed are somehow freed.

Those are my thoughts as, like Robert Fulghum, I ruminate on my Memory Box at home. Memory Box here means my big drawer in my room that houses my journals of yesteryears, trinkets that hold meanings and importance in my life, letters that have been yellowed by time, gift wrappers attached to Christmas cards and Sorry notes and even candy and chocolate wrappers. Others find them trash. But in moments when I feel nostalgic, they are my treasures.

From time to time, especially when I am wistful and reflective, I open my drawer, where I always, always stumble upon joyful recollections that will get me by. I always find beauty in looking back, in remembering the distant and not-so-distant past. Those memories anchor me ashore.

In the process of introspection, I unearth a Xerox copy of reflections on greed and gratitude. My own handwriting can be seen at the bottom of the page. It says: “Thank the source — The Best of Bits and Pieces, compiled and edited by Arthur F. Lenehan. In times when your ambition is eating you up, read ‘Greed.’ In times when you want to be magnanimous, read ‘Gratitude’.”

So now, I am sharing them with you.

* * *

A story was once written by Leo Tolstoy about a peasant farmer who, despite owning acres and acres of land, was still not happy with what he had. A selfish man, he always wanted more of everything.

One day, he got an offer from someone he did not know. He could buy all the land he could walk on for only 1,000 rubbles. Just like any other offer, it came with a restriction: that he must go back at his starting point by sundown otherwise all that he had acquired on that day would vanish in the air. 

The following day, long before the crowing of roosters, he got up early and started to walk. There was excitement in his gait as he walked and dashed to cover more ground. By midday, he was already tired but still he kept on going. Later in the afternoon, he realized he was going too far already and decided to go back and race against sunset.

He quickened his pace when, even from a far distance, he saw a glimpse of the marker at his starting point. It was glistening, courtesy of the sun which was beginning to sink below the horizon. Though gasping for breath, the farmer had an unbendable resolve that he would be much richer and all this would not be lost because he would make it to his point of origin. With his heart pounding, he gathered all his remaining strength and staggered across the line just before the sun disappeared.

A few seconds after crossing the “finish line,” he collapsed. His mouth frothed with blood. He died.

His servants dug a grave for him. The measurement of his grave was not more than six feet long and three feet wide.

The title of Tolstoy story was: “How Much Land Does a Man Need?”

* * *

Many years ago, two boys were working their way through Stanford University. Their funds got desperately low, and the idea came to them to engage Ignacy Paderewski for a piano recital. They would use the funds to help pay their board and tuition.

The great pianist’s manager asked for a guarantee of $2,000. The guarantee was a lot of money in those days, but the boys agreed and proceeded to promote the concert. They worked hard, only to find that they had grossed only $1,600.

After the concert, the two boys told the great artist the bad news. They gave him the entire $1,600, along with a promissory note for $400, explaining that they would earn the amount at the earliest possible moment and send the money to him. It looked like the end of their college careers.

“No, boys,” replied Paderewski, “that won’t do.” Then, tearing the note in two, he returned the money to them as well. “Now,” he told them, “take out of this $1,600 all of your expenses, and keep for each of you 10 percent of the balance for your work. Let me have the rest.”

The years rolled by — World War I came and went. Paderewski, now premier of Poland, was striving to feed thousands of starving people in his native land. The only person in the world who could help him was Herbert Hoover, who was in charge of the US Food and Relief Bureau. Hoover responded and soon thousands of tons of food were sent to Poland.

After the starving people were fed, Paderewski journeyed to Paris to thank Hoover for the relief sent him.

“That’s all right, Mr. Paderewski,” was Hoover’s reply. “Besides, you don’t remember it, but you helped me once when I was a student at college, and I was in trouble.”

* * *

Here’s more  from my Memory Box. I’m sharing with you A Prayer for Today by W. Heartstill Wilson:

This is the beginning of a new day.

God has given me this day to use as I will.

I can waste it or use it for good, but what I do today is important, because I am exchanging a day of my life for it.

When tomorrow comes, this day will be gone forever, leaving in its place something that I have traded for it.

I want it to be gain, and not loss; good, and not evil; success, and not failure, in order that I shall not regret the price I have paid for it.

This day is all we have. Is there someone to whom an act of kindness — not tomorrow but today — could make a world of difference?

Today, whether we spend it well or throw it away, will be gone tomorrow. What is there to do that is worth our effort?

(Thank you very much for your letters. For your new beginnings, please e-mail me at bumbaki@yahoo.com or my.new.beginnings@gmail.com. Have a blessed Sunday!)