Miscellany II



   The coastal shanty town woman whose home was made of old shipping crates with some colorful cardboard pieces placed decoratively on the outside walls. A tropical storm had gone wide of the coast overnight and then back out to sea, sparing the town. "We were worried that we might lose everything," she said.

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   And that would leave nothing. And at first I think that nothing is not relative. If you have nothing, you have nothing. That's it. But it occurs to me that it becomes relative when we consider that the resources available to each to recoup his/her losses will vary greatly. The woman, for instance, will have no insurance; will have no backup on the "cloud" for her digitized family photos that she also does not have; will most likely have no neighbors able to help "rebuild"; will have no online charitable site collecting funds for her. Yet the shanty town woman, because she has lived with nothing or next to nothing all her life, will be best able to cope of all who find themselves faced with nothing. "I've got plenty of nothing, and nothing's plenty for me," Porgy sings. And those who have "plenty of plenty" put a lock on their door.

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   Does nothing matter to me? Yes, it does. Nothing pleases me. I will collect nothing. There will be bottles with nothing in them, postcards with nothing written on them, heirloom photographs with nothing to identify their subjects. My friends will continue to give me nothing. And while nothing comes easily to me, it is not for nothing that I continue. I will stop for nothing and in nothing flat. Though nothing is wrong, nothing is right, so nothing will be good enough for me. In the end it will be all for nothing, for there is nothing like it. So thanks, thanks for nothing.

glwarren, 2014